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. A Romane History. The Fourth Part. (Book 4)

The First BOOK.

WHilst Clelia augmented her sorrows, by adding the misfortunes she feared to those she already suffered; Valerius, who was at that time sole Consul, had in his company Herminius, Amilcar, and Zenocrates, who was newly arrived from Clusium, to inform him of divers important and unwelcome tidings; which when he had de∣livred disorderly, in gross; Valerius desired him to relate something more particularly. I beseech you then (replyed Zenocrates) tell me first, whe∣ther you would have me speak of Tarquinius, Por∣senna, and the Princess of the Leontines, before I declare what I know concerning Aronces, whose destiny hath without doubt, been very extraor∣dinary. Aronces is so great a Prince, (said Valerius) and served Rome so signally in the Battel we late∣ly won, and moreover, it is so highly important to us, that the King his father be not engaged in the interests of the Enemy, that I should be very glad to understand, what is become of him. For my own concern (interposed Herminius) the affection I have for that Prince, gives me an ar∣dent desire of learning his condition. And for me, (added Amilcar) having had a longer knowledge of his rare qualities than you, I must, without question, love him more, and consequently have a greater curiosity to learn what betides him, than you can have. It being so, (replyed Zenocrates) you may then be pleased to know, that towards the end of the Battel, when the fight continued in the darkness of the night, wherein Friends and Enemies could not distinguish one another; and the confusion was so great, that either Party thought themselves defeated. Aronces having not∣withstanding the darkness, pursued some of the enemies, passed from the Right Wing of your Ar∣my to the left; by reason they which fled, not knowing whither they fled, by mistake, directed their way thither, supposing they were going to joyn with their own Forces. But as soon as they perceived their error, they changed the course of their Retreat. At which instant, Aronces, who knew not that Sextus was no longer in the Battel, thought he understood by the voice of one of those he pursued, that he was amongst them, upon which, his hatred inspiring him with an ardent desire of victory, he pursued them more closely than before. But being willing to associate some other to him, the better to execute his design, he began to cry out, Here, Romans, here; here is a Son of Tarquinius, that would steal away by favor of the night. These words, which Aronces pro∣nounced very loud, were understood by Horati∣us, who knew not, that his Rival was escaped from his Prison, because he had not stirred from the left Wing; and that it was at the Right, where this valiant Prince had fought so long, as the day lasted. So that Horatius, without knowing the voice of his Rivall, in as much as it was some∣thing altered by agitation and choler; and for that Aronces had uttered but three or four words; hastned only whither the desire of vanquishing the son of Tarquinius called him. Therefore coming up to Aronces, without observing who he was, and seconding his valor, they both put themselves upon pursuit of them that retired; who many times making head upon those that chased them, testified, that they wholly wanted not courage. But as it hapned, unfortunately for Aronces and Hora∣tius, they fell in with a gross of Horse of the Veientines; with which the pursued joining, not only stopt their course, but beset them round. Whereupon Aronces and Horatius, finding them∣selves in this dreadful danger, endeavored to ex∣hort one the other, to sell their lives to the enemy at a dear rate; by which their speech discovered them, and they saw, they were more enemies among themselves, than of those whom they had pursued. Nevertheless, the desire of glory, and the sense of virtue uniting them for the present,

they exploited things surpassing all belief, and more than once attempted to break through the body that encompassed them. But the horse of Aronces being slain, and his Sword broken with the fall, he was taken prisoner. So that Horatius being then alone in the midst of so many enemies, was constrained to yield to force, although he knew well, that certain death attended him, if he fell into the hands of Tarquinius. Thus these two Rivals saw themselves prisoners of War together, and they were immediately both committed to the custody of the same souldiers: who having seen them fighting on the same side, left them to dis∣course together what they pleased, without in∣terrupting them. But I shall not detain you with a circumstantial Relation of that Converse, having several things of greater consequence to impart to you. I shall suffice to let you know, that Horatius, as a generous person, remembred in his addressing to Aronces, that he was obliged to him for his life; and that Aronces did not forget his accustomed ge∣nerosity, when he spake to Horatius. Both of them having observed, by the speech of them to whom they were prisoners, that they were Veientines, they conceived they might not be known, since neither of them had ever been at Veii Nor had they lived long enough in Italy, although they had been there, to believe that these Veientines might have seen them any where else. Upon this persuasion, they mutually engaged not to discover one another, and to endeavor their liberty conjointly; yet with∣out promising to cease their mutual hatred; for there is a fend between them, which in probabi∣lity cannot be terminated but with their lives. But they which had them in guard, desiring to know what they were, demanded of Aronces, who Ho∣ratius was, and of Horatius the same concerning Aronces; conceiving they might draw the truth from them better after this manner than other∣wise. Horatius answered them, that Aronces was a Sicilian, that came to Rome since the War. And Aronces told them, that Horatius belonged to the forces of Ardaea, which were come to the service of Rome, after Tarquin was constrained to raise his siege. Which accounts being not at all mistrusted, they were guarded without any extraordinary care, and were ordered to march together. For, as these Veientines perceived no more of their own party to come to joyn with them, they determin∣ed to make their retreat before the day should ap∣pear. Accordingly they took the way to Veii, to∣wards which, all that routed-Army was disor∣derly retired; and they were no sooner at the foot of the Mountain, upon which that famous City is built, but they understood, that the people be∣holding the Army come back in disorder, and moreover, believing the defeat greater than it was, had tumultuously shut their gates, and de∣clared, that they would not admit the Troops of Tarquin, but only those that had been lent him; adding boldly, that he secretly corresponded with the Romans, to cause them to be cut in pieces. It is true, that the chief of the Veientines, who un∣derstood more reason than the affrighted multi∣tude, would have opposed this Sedition, but there was no means of calming it suddainly. So that Tarquin was forced to encamp at the foot of the Mountain, and in the mean while sent to ne∣gotiate with those, that had power to appease the incensed multitude. During which, Aronces and Horatius were put together in the same Tent, where they hoped they were unknown, because as I said before, they that guarded them were Veien∣tines. For although indeed, the Citizens would have admitted their own Troops; yet the Gover∣nors did not think fit to separate them from those of Tarquin. Thus the whole Army was encamped without the City, and continued there a day and a night, before the tumult was composed. But at length, the Inhabitants of Veii, being by the diligence of those that acted in favor of Tarquin, brought to some accommodement, they determin∣ed, in order to their security, and satisfaction of the hatred they bore so many years against the Romans, that Tarquin should deliver into their power all the Prisoners taken in the late Battel. For they were by this time made to apprehend, that the defeat was not so great as had been belie∣ved. They Articl'd also, That Tarquin should engage to cause other States to declare for him, and to do it within one month, if he failed, they would desert him, and comply with Rome, if they judged it convenient. These things being thus re∣solved, Tarquin caused all the Prisoners that were in the several quarters of his Army, to be brought before him, to the end he might himself conduct them to Veii, and they who had this order, went to the Tent where Aronces and Horatius were guardded, who conversed together in the most sad manner in the world: For hating one ano∣thers person, and interest, and their equal ge∣nerosity not permitting them to quarrel in the condition they were in; the civility of their discourse together, was attended with much for∣cedness, and constraint from both. I beseech you (said Aronces to his Rival, when he found oppor∣tunity of speaking to him, without danger of other ears) tell me in what condition was Clelia, at the time you departed from Rome, I shall not be more in her affection for this satisfaction, but only something less miserable. Clelia (answered Hora∣tius) is always fair, always charming; and to tell you something more grateful to you, (added he, fighing) always inexorable to the most faithful and most passionate of her Lovers. My absence then (replyed Aronces) hath changed her heart towards me; for, without doubt, she hath no Lover, whose passion can be compared to mine. Had she chosen the most amorous, and not inclined to the most noble person, (answered Horatius) I should possess the place in her heart which you do, and should not be under the unhappiness of being hated by my Mistress, obliged to my Rival, and to esteem him, and have an admiration of his virtue, in spight of the hatred, which the excess of my love produces in me towards him. The cruelty of my destiny (added he) necessitates me to have a new obligation to you every moment that I breathe.

For in brief, you need say no more, but that I am Horatius, to rid your self of a Rival. Since the hatred that Tarquin bears me, is known so gene∣rally throughout all Italy, that I should be put into the hands of the most cruel enemy that ever was, at the same instant that you should discover me. Whence it may be said, that I owe my life to you every moment. But as it is in my power to tell who you are, replyed Aronces generously, so is it in

yours to do the like of me; so that my genero∣sity has in this case no advantage over yours; and I do not put this obligation upon account: No, no, (Horatius replyed with an air sufficiently stern) the matter is not equal between us; for I should most certainly loose my life, if you should disco∣ver me; but though I should make you known, the interest of Tarquin would restrain him from treating you ill. Ah Horatius, (cryed Aronces) I had rather loose my life as things now stand, than behold my self again under the power of Tarquin; and it would be more grievous to me to be a second time his Prisoner than to be dead; for which rea∣son I earnestly wish to remain a captive amongst the Veientines. Being in this discourse, there came a Guard to fetch and conduct them along to the other Prisoners. They demanded whither they were to be carried; and were answered in general, to Veien; upon which they rejoyced, instead of be∣ing afflicted. But when they arrived at the Tent of Tarquin, where there were already about an hundred prisoners, they were strangely surprised, especially when they beheld that fierce Tyrant come out of the Tent to see them pass by, and af∣terwards to conduct them to Veien. He had not seen Horatius of a long time, who was much chang∣ed, both by his Travels and his Melancholly; so that he was not discerned in the croud of prisoners. But it being but a few days since he had seen Aron∣ces, he no sooner cast his eyes upon him, but he knew him; having been informed, in the morn∣ing, of his escape out of prison. Whereupon, making a great shout, What do I see (said he, hasti∣ly, approaching to that unhappy Prince?) Can it be, that in the midst of my defeat, I should have the satisfaction of seeing the son of Porsenna, in my power? Aronces perceiving that it was impossible for him to be concealled, made up towards Tar∣quin, and by an act of unparraleld generosity, hid his Rival as he advanced; his great spirit not suf∣fering him to expose the life of so valiant a person to the cruelty of the Tyrant. But as he went for∣ward, he turned his head a short space; and be∣holding Horatius, and speaking with a low voice, Remember, said he, what I do for you this day, if Fortune ever return you to the sight of Clelia. And then passing on towards Tarquin, who was come near him, without minding any of the other prisoners, it is but too true (said he to him) that I find my self again in your fetters; but not to dissemble, it is not without some consolation, since my Conqueror has been conquered, and I may without vanity believe my self to have con∣tributed something to his defeat. Tarquin obser∣ving with what resoluteness Aronces spoke this to him, was thinking to use him as a Rival and an Enemy; but that Policy which had through his whole life given laws to all his passions, restrained his fury, and tempered his answer; being the Son of a King (answered he) for whom I have much esteem, I interpret the peremptoriness of your lan∣guage, as proceeding from your resentment of your captivity; but to testifie to you that Porsenna hin∣ders me from taking notice of the words of Aron∣ces, I declare to you, that I will not treat you as a person whom I have seen on the side of my Re∣bel-Subjects, with his Sword drawn against me; but as the Son of a great King, to whom I am ob∣liged, and who will assist me to punish the inso∣lence of those for whom you have sought. Then without expecting an answer, he commanded that this Prince should be separated from the other Prisoners, and led into his own Tent, till farther order. After which, he marched in the head of all those Prisoners, and went directly to Veien, being followed by a party of his Troops, which were half Veientines, and half Tarquinians, accord∣ing as it was resolved before. The people of that City (as the vulgar is only affected with what they see) beholding this train of Prisoners con∣ducted by Tarquin, as if he had been victor, were as forward in receiving him, as they were lately insolent in renouncing and repining against him. Besides, Tarquin diligently causing it to be publisht at the instant, that the Son of the King of Hetruria was in his power, and that Porsenna would in∣fallibly ingage for his interest, it served abundant∣ly to appease the Inhabitants of the City. And moreover, as he is not wont to scruple provoking the gods, he caused it to be given out at Veien, by several of his agents, that the pretended voice which was said to be heard after the battel was a counterfeit, adding also many railleries upon that which this voice had uttered, that there was one fewer dead on the side of the Romans than his. This by degrees brought the people to be more pas∣sionate and devoted to him, and so greatly ad∣vantaged his affairs, that the next day his Troops were received into Veien. But yet, to win the hearts of the Veientines more, he declared that he nor his would have any share in the Prisoners, where∣upon they were divided among the chief of the Vei∣entines, and Horatius became presently a slave to some person at Veien, who knew not what he was. But for Aronces, he was conducted next morning into the City, and put into a Tower, where he was guarded carefully, and yet attended with very great respect. In the mean while Tarquin having been in person at the Council, propounded to send two Veientines, and two of his own, to Por∣senna, to desire assistance of him, after having offe∣red to him to restore Aronces into his hands even without any conditions; and accordingly the bu∣siness was concluded on and dispatched.

But before I proceed farther, I must give you an account of my travels with Artemidorus, you shall know therefore, that we arrived in the evening at Clusium, and without loosing time, knowing that the Princess of the Leontines was lodged in the Kings Palace, we sent a slave, that was sufficiently subtile, to deliver her a Letter from the Prince her Brother, whose hand she immediately knew. But being he intreated her to make a secret of his arri∣val at Clusium; because if he were known to the Prince of the Leontines, he would be more incen∣sed against him for it; she made no words of it, but only sought out ways how to give audience to that Prince, without giving suspition of what he was. To this end, she writ to him, that he should come the next morning, and walk in a Garden of the Kings without the City, on the side that Porsenna causes his own Tomb to be built, which will be one of the Wonders of the World, when it's finished. You may imagine that we were too precise to fail at this assignation. The hour of which being come, we beheld the Princes of the Leontines enter the Garden, attended only with her own Ladies; but to the end the business might be

done with more secrecy, she called but one of them to follow her, and leaving the rest in a spa∣cious walk, came to seek us in an Alley, where she had desired Artemidorus to expect her. For though we had never been before in that Garden, yet she gave us such exact directions what to do, that it was impossible to mistake. I shall not hold you with a particular description of the passionate¦ness of this interview of the Princess and Arte∣midorus, nor the circumstances of the goodness wherewith that admirable person was pleased to receive me. For the interests of Artemidorus, those of the Princess and mine, have no relation to those of Rome, I must not mis-imploy my discourse in re-declaring them. But that which I can tell you for the greatest truth, is, that had we been Ro∣mans, we could not have spoken more zealously for the interests of Rome than we did. We con∣jured her that she would please to instruct us of the state of affairs, and assist us to hinder Porsenna from protecting Tarquin, but induce him rather to ingage on the side of Rome. You are not igno∣rant (said she,) that I am obliged to Porsenna, for affording me a Sanctuary in his Court, and that I have infinite obligations upon me to the Queen of Clusium. For which reason, I declare to you that I can never be capable to do any thing against them, though I understand by what you say, that you have an inclination to serve Rome; I confess likewise to you, that I have a great a version against Tarquin, and that the case of Lucretia has rendred all the Tarquins detestable to all Women that have any sense of virtue. But to satisfie you in brief, I am and must be for the interests of Porsenna. That which we request of you (replyed Artemido∣tus) is not repugnant to the interests of the King of Clusium, since we wish that he would embrace the juster cause. I wish it be so (returned this prudent Princess) and I promise you I shall omit nothing in reference to your contentment. The King without question does me the honor to bear me a respect, (added she) but as he does not con∣sult me concerning the management of his State, so it is not immediately with him that I undertake to serve you. Galerita, I am confident hath good∣ness enough for me, to suffer me to speak any thing to her, and there are few persons of esteem in this Court, with whom I have not some credit. But that which I shall tell you in general, is this, that although Porsenna did not answer punctually to the first proposals made to him, both on the be∣half of Tarquin and of Rome, but left things in suspence till he saw the success of the begining of the War; yet I cannot but believe he will declare ra∣ther for the weakest than the strongest, and rather for an exiled, though unjust, King, than for an upstart Republick, though those that govern it be persons of great virtue. I do not tell you this (continued the Princess) but from authentick in∣formation of them that well know it to be so. Up∣on this, we imployed all the inducements of reason we could, to confirm the Princess in the purpose she had to serve us; conjoining therewith, to mol∣lifie her more, the interest of Aronces, and his love, and so departed from her, after she had pro∣mised to give us occasion of seeing her every day, in some place or other, to the end we might know by her what we were desirous to be informed of. But not to be tedious in inconfiderable particulars, you may know that Artemidorus and I, beheld the arrival of those Agents of Tarquin, and those Vei∣entines, whom Porsenna received with all imagina∣ble joy, when he understood by them that Aron∣ces should be delivered to him as soon as he plea∣sed. Galerita also was highly satisfied with the news, and the whole Court put on the face of gladness. So that (as Joy is a favorable occasion to obtain a thing that is desired) when the Veien∣tines and the Envoys of Tarquin, demanded of Porsenna that he would renew the confederacy he sometimes had with the King of Rome, and the Veientines, and make a League offensive and defen∣sive with them; he did not reject the proposition but only demanded two days to deliberate con∣cerning this important affair. The Princess of the Leontines being a prudent person, and willing to serve Aronces according to his intention, and to comply with the requests of Artemidorus and me, omitted nothing which she judged effective to pro∣mote her design. First she congratulated with Ga∣lerita for the approaching return of Aronces, and then obligingly testifying to her the interest she had in all that concerned her, she came by degrees to mention the Alliance which was in hand to be re∣newed.

For my part (said Galerita to her) I confess to you, that if Aronces were not in the hands of Tarquin, I should be perplexed even to despair, at the Kings partaking in the quarrel of a Tyrant, whom the gods seem to have abandoned. But when I consider that the Prince my Son is in his power, and that he offers to deliver him freely I see not how it can be honorable or even possible to refuse what Tarquin desires of Porsenna. But Madam, (replyed the Princess of the Leontines) it seems to me sufficiently dangerous to ingage in the weakest and unjustest side; and if the King would act without being surprised, he must re∣cover the Prince his Son, out of the hands of Tarquin, without concerning himself in a War wherein he hath nothing to do, and whose suc∣cess is doubtful. Besides that it would be more glo∣rious to him to bear himself in the quality of being an Umpire in the interests of his Neighbors, than to take part against Rome, which is apparently fa∣voured by the gods. For private persons indeed, it is oftentimes dishonorable to follow fortune, and to rank themselves always on the side of the strong∣est; but where the publick good is concerned, it is no shame to side with the more fortunate, when it may be done without violating the Law of Na∣tions. So that Porsenna being ingaged to neither party, it seems to me, as I said before, that he need not intermeddle in a War, in which he is uncon∣cerned. The Princess of the Leontines added much other discourse, which I shall forbear to repeat to you, it being enough to let you know, that though Galerita dissented from her at first, yet she brought her at length to be of her opinion. But this was not all; for she convinced some of the principal of that Court, that it would be an important ser∣vice to Aronces, to hinder Porsenna from embra∣cing the cause of Tarquin. So that considering that Prince, as he that must one day be their King, they resolved to oppose this Alliance, as much as the respect they ought to Porsenna would permit them. At length, Galerita being possessed with the sentiments, wherewith the Princess of the

Leontines had inspired her, obliged a person of chief quality, that was her Creature, to endea∣vor to oppose the design of Porsenna. To which effect, he declared to the King all the apparent rea∣ons, that might forward his intent: I shall not tell you particularly what they were, because they were almost the same with those I mentioned be∣fore, yet he added others with much vehemence, insisting principally upon the unfortunateness and crimes of Tarquin. Believe me, Sir, (said this di∣ligent friend) it is sufficiently dangerous to under∣take to protect a miserable man, that deserves his misfortunes; especially against a people accustom∣ed to over come, and whose virtues seems justly to entitle them to the Victory, which they gained over him. Its true, you have formerly been a Confederate of Tarquins, but it was as King of Rome, so that it may be said, you were more con∣federated with Rome than with him. Ah! Tibur∣sa, (exclaimed Porsenna) your counsels are alike re∣pugnant to Generosity and to Policy. But Sir, (Ti∣bursa replyed) does not Policy suggest to overthrow those, whose weakness renders that effect more easily compassable? On the contrary, (said Porsen∣na) 'tis more profound Statecraft, to endeavor the subversion of those, who may attain to the power of overtopping and subduing us; and for this cause it is more important, to the greatness of Hetruria, that Rome grow not up to that pu∣issance, to be formidable to her neighbors; and ••is a had officiousness to assist to the making of Swords, that will in time cut our own throats. But though you should overcome in this War, (an∣swered Tibursa) the advantage of the victory will not redound to you, but to Tarquin, who shall be restored by your arms to his Throne; for knowing the greatness of your Soul, in case you be victor, your generosity will induce you to return the Scep∣tee into his hands, and so you will always have a potent neighbor. 'Tis true, (replyed Porsenna) but twill be a neighbor engaged to my interests, by his own. Besides, that when the war shall have exhausted Rome, both of Soldiers and Treasure, he will not be so considerably dreadful to me, as Rome would be, if I should desert Tarquin. For in truth it is no false conclusion, that as there are na∣tural aversions between certain persons, so there is also a kind of latent hatred between Common∣wealths and Monarchies. On the other side, (said Tibursa) I conceive, the people do generally desire that which they have not; and commonly every private person affects to live under that sort of go∣vernment, of which he has no experience, imagin∣ing it more pleasing, than that under which he was born. But you mistake me, (interposed Por∣senna) for what I said had no relation to the mul∣titude, but to them that manage the Govern∣ment. And moreover, not to dissemble, an un∣fortunate King ought to excite pitty in the breast of all Kings. And since the case is, concerning Sovereign Authority, I conceive, every Sovereign ought to interest himself in behalf of him, whom prophane hands attempt to deprive of Royalty. Tis to me an inviolable Position, that a Brother is less obliged to assist his Brother, than one King to assist another, that wages War against his Sub∣jects, that have expelled him. But Tarquin is a Tyrant (replyed Tibursa.) Tarquin is a violent man, (answered Porsenna) but fortune having given him the possession of a Kingdom, which he enjoyed for a long time peaceably, and with much glory; It belongs not to me to judge of his right to the Throne of Romulus, but it does to restore him to it. And though Tarquin be so notorious a Cri∣minal, yet do not you see, that he has the satis∣faction of beholding the destruction of the most virtuous of all men, as a justice upon him for over∣turning his Throne. For 'tis not to be doubted, but this was the cause of Brutus's death; Collati∣nus also was, without dispute, expelled Rome for the same reason. And if Tarquin has not had the advantage hitherto, 'tis assuredly, because the gods are pleased, a King should have the glory of rendring the Scepter into his hands. Do not you consider (added he) that if I suffer the Govern∣ment of Rome to be changed, my State will be environed amongst several Common-wealths, who will confederate together to destory me, upon the first occasion that fortune shall present them with. 'Tis better therefore to do a generous and illustri∣ous action, since I apprehend in it both glory and advantage. Besides that, as often as I call to mind my Sons fondness, in loving a simple Roman Girle, and his weakness in intending to marry her with∣out my allowance; I find a new cause to hate Rome. And then with what face can I demand my Son, and deny assistance to those that return him to me? No, no, Tibursa (continued he) I cannot change my purpose. And according to my present senti∣ments, I hold it more glorious to recover, and re∣store a Kingdom, than to conquer one, and keep it. Therefore, no longer oppose an immu∣table determination but prepare your self to help me to overcome. But Sir, (answered Ti∣bursa) what will the censure of the World be, when they behold a King so accomplished in virtue, un∣dertake the protection of Princes so vitious? Mi∣sery (replyed Porsenna) obliterates all the vices of Kings; and when they become unhappy, the re∣sentment of their condition, must take off all a∣version of their faults; otherwise dangerous con∣sequences would attend Soveraigns, who to speak freely, are sometimes less virtuous, than most of their Subjects. To conclude, Tibursa, policy and glory incite me, to do what I have resolved upon, and therefore I conjure you, speak no more to me of it. Upon this Tibursa was constrained to be si∣lent, and to report to Galerita, that Porsenna was determined to protect Tarquin, and to joyn with him and the Veientines, in carrying on the War against Rome. And Porsenna having accordingly given a favorable answer to the Envoys of Tarquin, and the Veientines, two of them departed to carry this great news to the Tyrant, and to fetch Aron∣ces. Upon whose return, Tarquin intending to expedite the business, immediately gave order, that Aronces should be safely conducted from Veii to Clusium, and commanded five hundred of the Vei∣entine Cavalry to guard him thither. In the mean time, the Princess of the Leontines advertising us of the state of affairs, after many unprofitable con∣trivances of ways, to obstruct the design of Por∣senna; it was concluded that Artemidorus should abide at Clusium, to the end he might endeavor to serve Aronces, when he should be arrived there; and that I should come to inform you, of what passed in that Court. But there is one thing strange, that Porsenna, instead of causing an apart∣ment

in his Palace to be made ready, for the recep∣tion of the Prince his Son, has commanded the Garrison to be redoubled in the Castle of the Isle of Saule, which is in the middle of the Lake of Thrasymene, where Galerita was heretofore a long time Prisoner, intending to keep his Son there as soon as he is arrived: so that it may seem, he is like only to change his prison, and have the grief of being a captive in the same place where he was born. Its true, his life will be safe; for tis pre∣sumed, that he will be confined only; because ha∣ving once departed from Clusium, Porsenna fears, left his love should oblige him to do the like again. But in conclusion, to abridge my discourse, you may know, that the day of my departure being prefixed, I left Clusium accordingly to come hi∣ther. Scarce had I travelled six miles, but cros∣sing a Wood, I met with the party of Veientine Horse which conducted Aronces, and I saw Aronces himself, who while something was redressing about his horses bridle, was alighted and walking in a musing manner. But when some of them came near and stopt me, I quitted my Roman speech (which I have pure enough, when I am minded to use it) and told them I was a stranger, and being of neither party was travelling through all Italy. This I spoke so loud, that Aronces hearing it, knew me, though I also somewhat disguised my voice; but because he judged by what I said, that it was not fit he should appear to know me, under the pretext of trying, whether he could still speak the Language of the Country, of which he said, he understood I was, and began to speak to me in my natural Language, which he did extream∣ly well. So that being assured by him, that the Veientines which encompassed him, were people not skilled in a strange Tongue, he told me what had happened to him. He enquired of me news concerning Clelia, all his friends, and Celer, whom he had left in prison by the Tarquins. After which I acquainted him with the resolutions of the King his father, at which he was much troubled. He charged me to assure you, and all his friends like∣wise, of the continuation of his friendship, and Clelia of his constancy. And then being obliged to remount his Horse, I beheld him depart with sorrow, observing an infinite discontent in his eyes, and took the way of Rome, where I am haply ar∣rived, with intention of returning to the Princess of the Leontines, to do you all the service that I shall be able if you judge it fit. I was always of belief, (said Valerius) that Porsenna would assist Tarquin. And I ever thought, (added Herminius) that it would be a harder task to destroy that Prince than was imagined. As for me, (interposed Amil∣car) I never trouble my self with foreseeing events too remote; for usually, fortune makes a mockery of humane providence; she brings that about, which was never thought of; and that which was confidently designed, sometimes never comes to pass at all. 'Tis better therefore to be prudently at∣tentive to the affairs before us, and without hope or fear, to expect the future, with a resolution in∣capable of being shaken by any sort of accidents whatsoever. For though I deem it good, not to foresee any with perplexity; yet I account it very important, to have ones mind prepared against all adventures, that so it may be surprised with nothing.

To begin to put Amilcars advice in practice, (an∣swered Valerius) it is requisite to avoid expressing to the people, any fear of Porsenna, when they come to know, that he undertakes the quarrel of Tarquin, for which reason, we must dextrously conceal a part of the extream sorrow, which we resent for the death of Brutus, and indeavor to in∣fuse a kind of confidence into the peoples minds, which may serve to them as a presage of victory. And indeed Valerius, who had began to build a stately house upon the Mount Velia, encreased the number of his workmen that were about it, that it might appear he did not fear the success of the War, seeing he employed himself about a business that requires plenty and peace. He contrived al∣so, for the same reason, to institute the Plays, called the Secular Plays, because they were celebrated but once in an Age, conceiving that these several devices would have a good effect, both amongst the Romans, and amongst the enemies. Zenocra∣tes, mean while leaving Valerius, accompanied with Amilcar and Herminius, went to visit Sulpitia, who was at that time with Octavius, where Clelia was also: To whom after some little time, he addressed (for Octavius being too sick, permitted him not to be spoken to) and represented to her all the obli∣ging blandishments, which that Prince had en∣charg'd him with. He informed her, that Ho∣ratius was at Veii, and Aronces at Clusium, that the first of them was slave to a Veientine, and the other prisoner in the Isle of Saule. Whereby Clelia being a person of a most extraordinary capacity, well understood the unpleasing consequences, to which this adventure would expose her. Yet she had some consolation, that Horatius, was separa∣ted from her. But being endued with a rare ge∣nerosity, notwithstanding the tenderness she had for Aronces, she thought she offended against the obligements of honor, to what Zenocrates related of that Prince, before she were satisfied of her doubting, whether it was he that had wounded Octavius. So that she changed colour, and durst scarce enquire any thing of Zenocrates, how ardently desirous soever she was to do so. But Octavius, over∣hearing some part of Zenocrates's discourse to Clelia, though he spoke sufficiently low, and notwithstand∣ing his sickness taking notice of the sentiments of this virtuous Lady, No, no, Sister (said he gene∣rously with a low voice) do not fear to inform your self of Aronces, if the wound which I have recei∣ved was given me by his hand, he is not culpable for it to Octavius, but it is the Prince of Numidia that was hurt by him; 'tis his Rival, and not your Brother: and if Clelius were of my opinion, he should not hate Aronces for it, though it should prove fatal to me. What you say is so generous and noble (cryed Herminius that heard him) that I assure my self the gods will preserve the life of a person that retains equity in an occasion wherein it is sufficiently difficult to be equitable. Clelia was glad that Herminius had answered him, because being very discreet, it would have been something troublesome to her to have answered in a way wholly to her own content. But it behoved her to interpose something, had not Clelius entered into the room, whose presence altered the discourse. This afflicted Father having first demanded of his Son how he found himself, turned to Zenocrates, to enquire of him what news he had brought. Ze∣nocrates,

who now understood that 'twas believed Aronces had wounded Octavius, and that Clelius ha∣ted him for it, without considering that if he did it, it was innocently, found himself extreamly perplexed. Nevertheless, he told him what ob∣liging speeches that Prince had commanded him to express in his ear to him and Clelia, that so he might intimate to him, that Aronces was not so conscious to himself of having done any thing against him. How Zenocrates? (cryed Clelius) I will hear nothing from a man that has dyed the Sword which I had given him, in the blood of my Son, and should he have wounded him as his Ri∣val, yet I will never see him during my life; and therefore I am glad he is not in a possibility of re∣turning to Rome; for I should forbid him my house in case he should come again to the City. Clelia with unspeakable grief heard what her Father said, Sulpitia, knowing the humor of Clelius, pre∣sumed not to oppose him therein; and Octavius be∣ing turned towards the other side, after he had expressed himself so generously, heard no more what was spoken in his chamber. But that which compleated the sorrow both of Sulpicia and Clelia, was, that Clelius no sooner understood that Ho∣ratius was prisoner at Veii, but he declared he would endeavor to deliver him by the assistance of an illustrious Veientine, that was one of his anci∣ent friends. Being Horatius was a brave person, and one that might be very serviceable for support∣ing the Liberty of Rome, neither Herminius nor Amilcar, nor Zenocrates contradicted his intention, as indeed they could not with honor do, though they were Aronces friends. So that there was none but Sulpltia and Clelia, who testifyed enough by their silence, that the liberty of Horatius, was not the object of their wishes. But the visit of Ze∣nocrates being at length ended, he and his two friends went to spend the remainder of the day with Valeria, with whom they found Collatina, Cesonia and Plotina, for as for Hermilia, she was continually so afflicted, that she vouchsased not to see any person whatsoever. Zenocrates addressing to Plotina, asked of her, what news there was since his departure. I assure you, (said she to him) I know none worthy your knowledge, but only that Spurius who is the most vindicative person living has lately renewed his friendship to Valeria, only because he hates his Rivals, and would do them all the injury he is able; at least I have heard so this day from one of his friends. But is it not he (replyed Zenocrates) that sometimes coun∣selled Mutius to become a Lover of Valeria? Yes (answered Plotina, pleasantly) but being he sees Mutius, does not endear himself, and cannot dis∣possess Herminius out of the heart of Valeria, and that Aemilius also is more interessed in her favor than he, he is so resolved to attempt that glorious adventure once again. So that Valeria has now four Lovers at once. In good time (said Valeria) who overheard this discourse of Plotina to Zeno∣crates, (though she spoke not very lowd) but I had almost as good have four Enemies. You do well (replyed Plotina) to make use of the word [Al∣most] in this occasion; for I am confident, there is at least one of the four, which you would not have to hate you. I confess it (answered she) but to speak sincerely, I account nothing more vexa∣tious, than to be obstinately beloved by persons that I can never affect. I know many Dames in∣terposed Amilcar, (who was discoursing with Her∣minius and Collatina) that are not of your humor and who esteem it an extraordinary delectation to be followed by a crowd of Suppliants, for whom notwithstanding they have no particular affection. As Herminius, was ingaging himself in this conver∣sation, Themistus and Meleagenes came into the room, who appearing more sad than ordinary, gave occasion to Valeria, to enquire the cause of their discontentment. I deplore the death of so honorable a person (answered Themistus) that I cannot but require some lamentations of him from you, and especially from Amilcar, to whom he was well known at Syracuse. And I am confident (added he) that though you never saw but only the portraiture of him that was shewn you when you had the curiosity to know my adventures, yet you will not cease to bewail him. Oh good Gods! (cryed Amilcar) let me not hear that Me∣riander is dead, for I should resent it most passio∣nately. I am sorry (replyed Themistus) that I must impart that grief to you; but it is too true that the illustrious Meriander is no longer amongst the living, but left the world three days since. How! (replyed Valeria) he that had all good qualities, none bad; who was both gallant and prudent, who knew all things of excellence, loved all noble acts, passionately affected Musick, that loved the whole World, that was so acceptable in it, so sin∣cere, so faithful a friend, so constant and so gene∣rous, does he no longer live? He does not most certainly (answered Themistus) and the pensive Meri∣genes, who arrived yesterday in the evening, tells me Meriander hath been universally bewailed, as never any before in the Court of Syracuse. Not one Beau∣ty but has lamented his fate, nor man of quality, but expressed their resentment with sighs and com∣plaints: those that excel in any good Arts do al∣most abandon them, since he is no longer their Protector, and in brief, all the World deplores him as person that could alone introduce civility, virtue, and gallantry into the Court, and serve for a model to those that propose to themselves the per∣fection of honorable persons. I assure you, (reply∣ed Herminius) such as have all the rare qualities Meriander was owner of, cannot be sufficiently re∣gretted; and if Amilcar would acquit himself well, he should compose an Epitaph worthy of his own Wit, and the merit of the illustrious Deceased. I protest to you (said Amilcar hastily) that I would have one made, but I must withall declare to you, that I will not be the Author; for in short, this kind of composure is the rack of good Wits, and I know nothing more difficult to make well. Yet I believe the cause why so few Epitaphs please those that read them, is, that generally praises and sadness are displeasing to almost all the World. So that all Epitaphs that are composed, being sad, and usually full of commendations, it is hard to please and gain approbation. Besides that, to speak judi∣ciously, it being requisite that an Epitaph be short and clear, and exactly congruous to the person for whom it is intended, that it be between a plain Inscription and an Elogium, that there be some touch of Morality by the way, and that it excite ten∣derness and compassion, it is not much to be won∣dered at, that there be so few well made. More∣over, I assure you, that unless some Burlesque or

Festivous Epitaphs, I have not seen many excel∣lent; for they are usually too plain, or too eloquent: Those that express too little, stop passengers for no∣thing; those that are too long, and have more words than matter, make them lose too much time; those which commend excessively, give oc∣casion of contradiction and calumnies against the dead, and the person that commends him; and those which do not extoll at all, when they are in∣tended of people that merit to be praised, ex∣cite generous Readers to indignation and choler.

Wherefore I conclude, that it is not fit to ad∣venture lightly to make Epitaphs; and I cannot resolve to make one for the noble Meriander, though his memory be very dear to me. Then Valeria demanded of Themistus, whether Merigenes was sent to him by the Princess Lindamira. I am not so happy (answered he) but Merigenes being much my friend, thought meet to come and ad∣vertise me, that he understood the young Prince of Messena was gone into Italy. 'Tis true, I received news by him of Lindamira, which gave me great satisfaction; and had not he inform'd me of the death of the generous Meriander, the intelligence brought me of the voyage of the Prince of Messena, would not have much troubled me. But by what I understand, (said Plotina) you and Merigenes have interchanged sighs for sighs; for if he ac∣quainted you with the death of Meriander, you have informed him of that of Lisydas and Alci∣medes. In truth (answered Themistus) he much deplored their fates. But I must tell you (interpos'd Amilcar) that sorrow of this nature is a thing very unprofitable, at least to the persons lamented; for to those that express it, it is hono∣rable, making them esteemed compassionate and constant, and gains them the reputation of bear∣ing their friendship beyond the Urne, But to speak unfeignedly, there is nothing more rare than true grief. I must confess (added Plotina) I am of Amilcar's opinion, and believe that there are feign∣ed tears, tears of custom, and tears of decorum. For my part, (said Amilcar) I remember I saw a very excellent person dye at Carthage, who was not griev'd for by half those that lamented him. But can one lament without grief (said Valeria?) I could not do it, for my part (said Collatina.) I have seen it done more than once (replied Amil∣car) and if you would observe the general practise of the world, you would be of the same belief with me. For when people behold the death of some one, whom they conceive themselves oblig'd to sorrow for, they bewail him, and extoll him, and make shew of going to condole with, and com∣fort his Relations; but in the mean while, if du∣ring the visit, some one in the company relate some pleasant story, it is listned to, paraphras'd on, and laught at; after which, the mourners walk abroad, make visits, and are altogether after their ordina∣ry manner, till beholding the particular friends or kindred of the deceased, their tears are renewed, and their sighs and melancholly acted over again. And because when this is past, he is never spoken nor thought of more; I cannot but believe that they which do things that have so little affinity with grief, can have no true grief at all. For to re∣turn to that person of great worth, whom I be∣held die at Carthage, and who was so much re∣gretted, I assure you I saw Women, who were scarce known to him in his life, out of vanity, and to make it believ'd he was their great friend, that habited themselves carelesly for two or three daies, and went from house to house, asking if they did lament him; speaking of him with a certain familiarity, full of tenderness, sufficient to deceive such as had not the spirit of discernment, which is so necessary to live well in the world. And which was rare, these fair Mourners, the same day they spoke thus pitiously, went at evening to hear Mu∣sick, and to make Collations and Revels. They pretended indeed, that they went thither only to divert their mind from their sorrow; for truly (said they, with a languishing voice) should not we see some body and constrain our selves, we should die of grief. And will not you now con∣sent with me, that griefs are sometimes very sus∣pitious, and seldom true; and that to speak things as they are, there is as little true Grief, as there is true friendship. The measure of the one (answer'd Herminius) is without doubt the measure of the other, for only their loss is much resented, who were much belov'd; but above all, there is no∣thing more excellent than to preseve the memory of ones friends. I intend not to speak of those mournings, which do nothing but pour forth streams of tears, which are rather an effect of the weakness of their reason that shed them, than of the excess of their regret: But I mean them that retain a long and prudent sorrow, who during their whole life, do all they are able to do for their dead friends, in the condition they are in; that is, by speaking alwaies of them with esteem, defend∣ing their past actions with zeal, serving them whom they would have serv'd, had they liv'd; loving those whom they lov'd, and never forget∣ting them. That which you say (replied Plotina) is, without doubt, very excellent; but if there are few people, that can deplore their friends in this manner, there are few friends that deserve to be lamented so. All the company assenting to the opinion of Plotina, she took leave of them, because it was now very late. The next day Valerius, in order to executing the design he had, to intimate to the people, that he did not misdoubt the success of the War; after he came out of the Senate, went to see his workmen, which he employ'd in finish∣ing his house on the Mount Velia, where he dwelt already; for there was more than half of it com∣pleated. And to execute his purpose, he added half as many more to the workmen, that had hitherto laboured in his structure. So that there was seen nothing but burthened slaves along the way lead∣ing to it, going and coming continually, to carry things necessary to the builders. Valerius also judg'd it not fit, in the conjuncture of affairs, to motion so soon the election of a new Consul, in the place of the illustrious Brutus, for fear lest gi∣ving an occasion of a contest in the Senate, there might be some commotion, which might be at∣tended with dangerous consequences, when it should come to be known, that Porsenna protected Tarquin. He advised with the most prudent of those, that understood affairs, and did nothing but what they counselled him to. But as the rules of prudence can never be infallible, when the deliberation is concerning what the people will, or will not do; the wisdom and virtue of Valerius were not powerful enough to hinder, but that

what he did with the best and most innocent in∣tention in the world, was interpreted to his dis∣advantage. Within five or six daies after the arri∣val of Zenocrates, the news of the return of Aron∣ces to Clusium, and the alliance of Tarquin with the King of Etruria, was known by all the people; who, instead of taking heart from the tranquillity that appear'd in the mind of Valerius, and the se∣veral Orders he had given, that the forces should be in an expedite condition, began to repine ve∣ry loudly. 'Tis true, some of Tarquin's creatures served secretly to irritate the minds of the multi∣tude. Some said, 'twas easie to observe, that Valerius minded himself more than the publick good, in that he built so magnificent a House, in a time, wherein the new-born Republick stood in need that all the Romans should contribute a part of their Estates, towards sustaining the charge of the War. Others, That it appear'd enough, that he hated the King more than Royalty, since it ap∣pear'd he had a design of reigning like a Sovereign, in that he spoke nothing of making an election of another Consul, and that he caused more than or∣dinary diligence and haste to be used about a house, which might become an impregnable Citadel, when he would fortifie it, by reason of its advan∣tageous situation. In fine, said these Mutineers, what serves it to commend Brutus, and yet imi∣tate Tarquin? to speak of Liberty, and yet as∣pire to Tyranny? So that within four or five days, a great part of the people began to believe, that Valerius aspir'd to make himself King.

At first, all his friends did what they could to undeceive them; but the more they spoke, the less they were believed, and came themselves to be suspected of intending to be subservient to his ambition, out of hopes to be rewarded for it. Thus was the most virtuous of men suspected of inten∣tions to betray his Countrey, and not to have ex∣pelled a Tyrant, but only to be Tyrant himself. This troublesome rumour afflicted Valerius very sensibly, when Herminius gave him notice of it; for he was not of those people, who content them∣selves with being virtuous, without care to appear so. Besides, should there have happened a sediti∣on in Rome at that time, the safety of the Common∣wealth had been greatly endangered. Part of his friends were of advice, that he should severely punish some of those, that had the boldness to sus∣pect him so unjustly, to the end, others might be restrained by that example, The gods defend (answered Valerius to them that gave him this counsel) that, to secure my self from the suspiti∣on of attempting to be a Tyrant, I should com∣mit an action that approaches near to Tyranny; for should I do it, the people would be incens'd, I should accuse instead of justifying my self, and I should expose Rome to return to her late servi∣tude. Wherefore I resolve upon another proceed∣ing, which perhaps will succeed better. And ac∣cordingly Valerius, without imparting his design to any but Herminius, who commended him high∣ly for taking up so generous a resolution, caused the people to be assembled the day following in the spacious Court, where he was wont to speak in publick, when some important affair was in hand, to which the suffrages of the people were necessa∣ry. As their minds now were ill pre-disposed, part of the multitude believ'd, that Valerius caus∣ed the people to be assembled, only to make some unjust proposal to them. But when the place was full, all the Mutineers were astonished, when they observ'd the Consul, at his approach to the Tri∣bunal where he was to speak, commanded the Axes, and the Fasces of Rods, which were the marks of Sovereign power, to be held down∣wards, intimating by this submissive action, that he acknowledged the power of the people to be a∣bove his own; a proceeding so remote from Ty∣ranny, pleasingly astonished this multitude, who could not contain themselves from testifying their approbation of the fact with shouts and acclamati∣ons of joy. But at last, silence being command∣ed, Valerius beholding so favourable a begin∣ning, lift up his eyes towards Heaven, and en∣tring upon his Oration, with all the boldness that innocence inspires them with, who are accus'd unjustly; I wish (said he) O Romans; it had been the pleasure of the gods, that I had undergone the destiny of Brutus in the last Battel, and obtain'd the same glory with him, of dying in defence of my Coun∣treys Liberty, that so I might have escap'd the mis∣fortune, of being unjustly suspected of the most horrible of all crimes, and that by them, for whose sakes I would have sacrificed my dearest bloud. Is it possi∣ble, O Romans, that no virtue can be pure enough to restrain you from suspecting it? Is it possible, I say, that I, who have ever been a declared enemy of the Tyrant and Tyranny, should be accus'd of aspiring to the Soveraign Power? How? No, no; I could never have imagin'd it, but should have believ'd on the con∣trary, that though I had been possest of the Capitol, it could never have been fear'd I pretended to the Roy∣alty. But, as I perceive, all my fore-past management, and all my services, have not been able to hinder you from blotting and traducing my reputation: For it seems, upon the lightest pretext in the world, you ac∣cuse me with unparall'eld injustice, of the greatest of all crimes. Is it just, O ye inconsiderate Romans, (continued he) that ye should judge rather of me, by the place where I dwell, than by what I am my self? But since the matter is so, I declare to you, unjust Ro∣mans, that the house of Valerius shall never more cause umbrage to the City of Rome; and as it is ea∣sier to pull down than to build up, you shall soon see the ruines of my house to justifie my innocence. The Mount Velia shall be free for those that please to dwell there; and to testifie yet more submission, I shall begin to re∣build at the foot of that Mountain, if you please to assigne me a place, to the end those suspitious Citizens, who accuse me so lightly, may dwell in a higher seat than my self; for I consent, that they, in whom more confidence is put, than in Valerius, for the liberty of his Countrey, may build their houses in the same place, where he newly demolish'd his. And accordingly while Valerius was speaking this, the great number of workmen which he had emploied some daies before to build that magnificent structure, by the order of Valerius, pull'd it down with so speedy diligence, that it was absolutely raz'd before the day was done: And the first Consul, who had con∣tributed so much to the liberty of Rome, saw him∣self constrained to go and lodge with one of his friends. Which great and unparallel'd deed ha∣ving fully justifi'd Valerius, the same people that before murmur'd so much against him, conspir'd all with one voice to stile him Publicola, denoting by this name they gave him, his yielding and sub∣missiveness

to the people. Whence after this fa∣mous day, this Consul was no longer called Va∣lerius, but the appellation of Publicola remain'd upon him for ever. Himself was also glad that it continued to him, in regard the people could never name him, without remembring the cause for which they term'd him so, whereby he gain'd a greater stock of credit for the good of the Com∣mon-wealth. Four or five days after, to confirm the good opinion given of him, it was proceeded to election of a new Consul; and Spurius Lucre∣tius, Father of the admirable and unfortunate Lu∣cretia, was chosen in the place of Brutus; for be∣ing much elder than Valerius, whom I shall here∣after call Publicola, this virtuous Consul was wil∣ling Lucretius should have the precedence, and all the honours of the Consulship. But being desi∣rous to gain the people more powerfully, during those four or five days that he was alone, he made several Constitutions, which were very favoura∣ble and advantageous to them. He plac'd several virtuous persons in the Senate, in the room of those that were slain in the last battel. He caus'd a pub∣lick Oath to be renewed, making it Treason in any that should dare to propose the changing of the Government; He decreed that Criminals con∣demned, might appeal to the people; He discharg∣ed the poor from contributing to the expence of the War; He enacted, None should be entrusted in any charge, but by the consent of the people: He also caus'd the Axes to be separated from the Fasces, and moreover constituted that what he had done the last time he spoke to the people, should be a president for the future, that is, that the Fasces should be held downwards as often as the people were assembled together. Thus, in seeming to lose a part of his power, this prudent Roman augment∣ed his authority. That which much affected the people, was, the beholding Valerius, and all his fami∣ly, enforc'd to sojourn at the House of Racilia, till he had one provided of his own. The noble-mind∣ed Sivelia did not omit in this occasion, to offer hers to this virtuous Consul; but he wav'd the acceptation of it, by reason of Herminius's love to Valeria, and chose rather the same Lodgings which had formerly entertained the illustrious Brutus. Mean time, though these late transacti∣ons greatly took up those, who judg'd themselves interessed in the good of the Re-publick, Clelius, in the prejudice he had against Aronces, fail'd not to take care for Horatius, and sent secretly to Veii, to procure his deliverance; which soon after be∣came more easie for him to effect, by reason of the death of Spurius Lucretius, which happened eight daies after he was created Consul. For an Uncle of Horatius's, who was also of the Family of those first Horatii, whose Combat is so celebrated, succeed∣ed in his place, and assisted Clelius much, in con∣triving ways to bring about his return to Rome. While matters were at this pass, Clelia was pos∣sessed with extream sorrow, the weakness of Octa∣vius encreased; she apprehended Aronces going to engage on his Fathers side, which he could not a∣void with honor; for he must either remain a pri∣soner, or become an enemy to Rome. Besides, she was almost certain, Horatius would return speedi∣ly; she beheld one of his Relations in Authority; her Father passionately inclin'd to his alliance; and in brief, she could foresee nothing but perplexity and disquiet; and this brought her into a strange melancholly; yet though she was something pale, and extreamly sad, she was, notwithstanding, al∣ways the most beautiful person in the world. All the Ladies her friends, visited her very frequently, and Valeria among the rest, made it almost her bu∣siness to comfort the afflicted Ladies; for she was almost ever with Hermilia, or Collatina, or Clelia. But by reason Plotina and Amilcar had a certain ge∣nius of pleasantness, which could not long consist with melancholly, the converse was always very agreeable at Cesonia's house, whither generally per∣sons of quality resorted more than usual, after Sulpitia was become a Mourner, and Valeria liv'd at the house of Racilia. So that there was scarce a day, but Themistus, Meleagenes, Zenocrates, Her∣minius, Mulius, Aemilius, Spurius, Amilcar, and several others went thither, where there were al∣so many noble and beautiful Ladies. But as the conversations which are made amongst choice per∣sons, whose number is not over great, are the most pleasing of all, there happened one in the chamber of Plotina one day, which was very divertising, and pass'd only betwixt that charming Lady Ce∣sonia, Amilcar, Aemilius, and Herminius; the cause of it was sufficiently sad, for coming to speak of Clelia and Aronces, they resented their conditions with compassion, and foreseeing all the mischiefs which in probability would betide them, they entertain'd themselves at first after a very me∣lancholly manner. But Amilcar not being able to talk long upon sorrowful subjects, without con∣forming them to his own humour; It must be con∣fess'd (said he on a sudden) that such as are ca∣pable of great passions, are far more miserable than others; and it were better to love every thing that pleases, than to confine our affection to one single object: Besides, (added he) I look upon it as an injury done to nature, to love but one thing alone in the whole Universe, But you do not remem∣ber, (answered Plotina smiling) that you would have me think you love me, and yet what you say, does not altogether tend to make you be belov'd. You have forgot your self (replyed he) for your maxims are not much different from mine, and 'tis rather joy that unites us than love; or, to ex∣plain my self more clearly, the joy I resent in lo∣ving you, is that which maintains the passion I have for you; besides that, to speak sincerely, I was born a little too slothful, to adventure the ex∣perience of one of those great passions, which al∣ways oblige to the performance of great matters; and without question, I am more fit for a trifling, than for an heroical love. Methinks (said Ceso∣nia) you attribute a quality to your self not very good; for I always lookt upon slothfulness as a defect. How? Cesonia (cried Amilcar) if you knew but what sweetness there is in a certain care∣lesness, which is the daughter of sloth, and how pleasing an employment idleness is to a man that hath some delicacy of mind, you would not speak as you do, but would conclude, that if diligence be sometimes more profitable, sloth is almost ever more agreeable. For if you consider'd it well, you would find, that they which are naturally diligent have scarce ever leisure to do nothing; because the same temperament which makes diligent, endues those that are capable of it with a certain activity, which obliges them to engage themselves into a

thousand difficult matters. Such people undertake all, would be all, intermeddle with all; and so, by their incessant turmoiling, deprive themselves of that, which according to the intention of Nature, is the reward of all labours, and the end of all the actions of Life; Rest. For even Heroes, that resolve most to climb to glory, by arduous and un∣trodden paths, propose Rest to themselves at the end of their travels. Why therefore should any account it discommendable, that being able to ob∣tain this happy Quiet by Idleness, which is so great a pleasure, I enjoy it with tranquility and peace? Why, I say, should I be blam'd for com∣mending and loving, yea, preferring idleness be∣fore labor? for is there any thing so sweet as to have nothing to do, and to be able to do all what ever one pleases? I confess (said Herminius) 'tis very pleasing to have the power of doing all one will; but I deny, that 'tis oftentimes agreeable to do nothing I grant indeed, that there is some∣times a kind of sweetness in the serene enjoyment of honest leasure, yet that which chiefly constitutes the pleasantness of it, is not properly idleness, but the liberty and arbitriment a man hath to do what his own inclinations lead him to. Continual labour is a thing painful, but eternal sluggishness is so tedious and troublesome a quality, that I hate no∣thing more. For sluggishness (replyed Amilcar) it is as well odious to me as to you, but the idle∣ness which I mean, I love it with all my soul; It seems to me (said Cesonia) there is no great dif∣fence between them. How? Cesonia (answered he) you seem not to consider what you speak; for a sluggard is properly a man either without virtue, or without courage, or without wit, or without address. But a gallant man idle, is a Philosopher, who does nothing, because there is nothing in the world worthy to employ him; or a man, who seek∣ing wisdom by a different way from the common sort of men, pursues only pleasures, without inter∣medling with the publick good, and a thousand affairs, which cause all the turmoil of life, and finds himself happier, in being gently seated up∣on a hillock, by the side of a Rivolet, and enter∣taining himself with some young Shepherdess, than those ambitious heads which are always active and unquiet, in the midst of all the honors which they attain by their continual labours. And if you con∣sider all things aright, you will find, as I said be∣fore, that Rest is the end to which all actions of men are directed. For men do not fight, but to the intent they may not always fight; nor aspire to glory, but to enjoy it in quiet; they do not learn, but that they may make an end of learning; nor travel, but that they may arrive to the place whi∣ther they design: and whosoever looks not upon Rest as the chief good, is like a man that should undertake to travel eternally, without ever arri∣ving to any place wherein to abide. Your argu∣ment is pleasantly set forth with advantage, (re∣plyed Herminius) but yet I hold, there can be no true sweetness in Rest, unless so far as it is judg'd a commodious estate, of being able to do what a man best pleases. For, that I may borrow the ve∣ry examples used by you, do you think that those Philosophers, who put themselves in the way of discovering, that the world being wholly corrupt∣ed, hath no employment worthy to take them up, could be termed idle? Call you that doing nothing, to have learnt to be better contented with pover∣ty, than the ambitious are with victories; to neg∣lect all the delights which pleasure hath invented, and to be satisfied with the converse of their Books; the melody of Birds, the purling of a Fountain, and their own innocence? As for other kind of idle people, whom only softness posses, I confess they deserve the name which you have given them, and he that loves nothing but delights, may be said to be in continual idleness. Yet 'tis at least an idle∣ness sufficiently sweet, (replied Amilcar, smiling:) But if it were allowable to be always idle, (repli∣ed Herminius) all men would be so; for it would be more convenient, than to seek glory by diffi∣cult ways, in which also the Heroes found it. Had this opinion been always approv'd, and idleness, sloth, and carelesness ranked with the virtues, we should have had neither Cities, nor Laws, nor Mo∣narchies, nor Republicks; but all the world would have been in confusion, all men would have lived in the fields like the Herds which feed there; the Arts would never have been invented; and the same pleasure which induces you to defend the cause of idleness and sloth, would want above half the charms which allure those to it, who have the blindness to prefer it before virtue; since it is true, that men have by their pains invented or perfected very many things which serve for plea∣sure, as Dancing, Musick, and several others. So that if Idleness had been Mistress of the world, the world would have been in a strange confusion and ignorance; and Amilcar himself, who knows a hundred things which he hath learnt with very much care, would have known nothing of what he knows, nor have been the same person in the world he is; he could have scarce had any thing graceful, nor even discoursed of idleness at the rate he now does; whence I assure my self, he does not speak according to his real thoughts. 'Tis true, (answered Amilcar) what ever I have said, I am neither sluggish nor idle; yet, to speak unfeigned∣ly, I could wish I had leisure to be so, and were not all my life oblig'd to study to do things, which afford me no advantage, and little pleasure. For, to tell you freely, most of the labours of men, find nothing but ingratitude in the minds of those, for whom they are undergone; and every man, from the King to the Slave, hath at least met with one ungrateful in his life. For when a Prince is just and gracious, the people are apt to infer, that he is oblig'd to be so, that they are not at all ob∣lig'd to him for it. Most Kings, because they are born Masters of others, imagine they owe no re∣ward to their faithful Subjects, and that Tyranny is one of the Rights of their Soveraignty. They that govern Republicks, are expos'd to the ingra∣titude of the people, as well as Kings; and the persons of highest employment in States of this sort, imagining those whom they govern, can ne∣ver obey them with blindness enough, never trou∣ble themselves to give them any testimonies of ac∣knowledgement: Masters believe their slaves born to do them service without reward; and slaves on the other side, think their Masters ought to re∣compence them for the least matters they perform, and that they are indebted to them continually. The friends which a man obliges, knowing 'tis the engagement of friendship to serve those we love, make no esteem of any thing; and they which ob∣lige

others, require on the contrary; that all should be ascribed to them. A Father, because he hath given life to his Children, conceives, that they ought to be always as dependent on him, as they were while they were but in their Cradle; and gi∣ving them no thanks for all their endeavours to please him, does nothing at all for them: and Children for their part, knowing that their birth is not the greatest obligation they can owe to their Fathers, repine even for the life which they gave them, when they do not all for them which they think they are able to do. Husbands, whose au∣thority is established by force and custom, con∣ceiving their wives are too happy in obeying them, give them no thanks for their complacency; and Wives, who having either Beauty or Virtue imagining their Husbands too highly preferr'd by having married them, are not oblig'd by any thing whatsoever, but for the most part are impertinent when they are fair, and insolent when they are wise. Even Lovers are ungrateful, and the most of any other. For indeed (added Amilcar smiling) if you took notice of all the complaints they make, you would think a thousand mighty injuries had been done them, and never the least kindness. And it oftentimes happens, that a Lover, after he has received a thousand and a thousand favours; makes afterwards a thousand and a thousand repinings, only because he is something less favourably re∣garded than ordinary: so that forgetting all for∣mer kindnesses, he murmures and threatens to change his affection, and becomes perfectly in∣grateful And as for the Ladies (continued he) I could cite an hundred Sonnets, wherein the title of Ungrateful is given them. For I remember one which begins with, Ungrateful Fair; another with Ungrateful Iris; a third with, What strange ingratitude is this of yours? a fourth with, The un∣grateful beauty which I serve; and another which pronounces, All that's handsome is ungrateful. To conclude, Ingratitude is so general a thing, that a man would almost protest against obliging any person; and for fear of doing any thing for one that may afterwards prove ungrateful, resolve to do nothing at all, but to live so as only to live, without taking care of any thing. For Ingrati∣titude, (said Aemilius, who all this while had been silent) I assent to you, that there is too much of it in the world. I am of your opinion, (answered Herminius) but there would be much less of it, if there were no slothfulness and idleness; for they are usually supine and negligent persons, who are most ungrateful, and who are willing to be oblig'd by all the world, without obliging any body. In truth (said Plotina) you have all a great stock of wit, and methinks you are in the humour to day, of expressing more than ordinary; and therefore I beseech you satisfie me of two things, which I am desirous to know: First, Which is most shameful, to be a sluggard for want of wit, or for want of courage? and Secondly, to examine well all the different ingratitudes the world is full of, and determine which is the great∣est; for there are various kinds, For my own particular, I have a she-friend, who makes no ac∣count of the services which are done her, but for∣gets a thousand considerable good offices, without ever thinking of retribution; and who, because she is fair, and loves her beauty better than her self, if I may so speak, never forgets one flattery or commendation, but will do much more for them which deceive her, provided it be in her own praise, than for those who do her real services: What you speak of (said Cesonia) fails out very frequently, but before speaking of ingratitude, let us discourse a little concerning these idle persons, whose idle∣ness has divers causes. I know some who are so, only because they are careless; for they have wit enough, and testifie also in some occasions, when they are forced to it, that they want no courage; and besides, it is not perceiv'd that they have any bad qualities: These people (answered Herminius) are culpable in the highest degree; for I know nothing more strange than to be unprofitable, both to the world and ones self, to have wit and do no∣thing with it, and a certain indifferent mind, which causes a man not to interest himself in any thing, to have neither ambition nor love, and to live with a negligence that renders him incapable of all great pleasures. For my own part, I should almost like it better for a man to addict himself to something, not altogether good, than not to apply himself to any thing at all. As for me (replied Plotina) I am of Herminius's mind, and I judge it more shameful to be an eternal idler, for want of having the Will to attempt something, than to do nothing for want of Will: For what reason is there to accuse a poor stupid person, who by engaging him∣self in action, would only manifest his stupidity? I affirm confidently, that they to whom the gods have been sparing of the riches of the mind, are happy, when they assign them an unactive life withal, so that they remain hidden in their own obscurity. This deficiency causes the same effect in them, which prudence does in others, by re∣straining them from appearing unbecomingly in the world. For there is none but knows, there are people which would not be spoken of, if they were not in great employments, of whom a thou∣sand dispraises are rumour'd, because they acquit themselves ill of what they rashly undertake. Pro∣mote a hair-brain'd man to the management of State-affairs, and one faint-hearted to command an Army, and you will find it convenient there were more idle persons than there are. For idle persons injure none but themselves; but they which ma∣nage employments they are unworthy of, often∣times overthrow the order of the world. They make war, when there is a greater necessity for peace; and contrarily, make peace, when 'tis more convenient to undertake a war: and not under∣standing the import of their own actions, it would be better they did nothing at all. For which rea∣son, upon due consideration, I judge it more rea∣sonable to censure impertinent busie-bodies, than those miserable lazy-backs who seek ease, and oft∣times do better by indulging their own quiet, than by forsaking it to become active. Let us leave them therefore in their happy idleness, (answered Cesonia) and I repent me of my curiosity I had to know distinctly, the different degrees of contempt I ought to allot them in my mind. I cannot leave them yet, (replied Herminius) but I must tell you, that the most criminal of all idle persons, are they who addict themselves to nothing, when they are oblig'd by necessity to betake themselves to the employment which fortune has given them. For though all idleness is blame-worthy, yet when a

man addicts himself to nothing, and chooses no profession, but out of choice, floth, or incapaci∣ty, or some other reason, passes his life in so great sluggishness, that he might in a manner die, with∣out the loss of pleasure, or benefit to any, and even without being sensible of it himself, it is suffici∣ent to reprehend and slight him. But when we see a man, who by his birth and his own election, is in∣stated in a great employment, which requires him to act, and he does not, he is to be hated and de∣spised. According to my judgement (said Amil∣car) ye have much reason for this; but yet there are people worse than those idle ones you speak of. I beseech you (interpos'd Cesonia) tell us who they are; for my part, I cannot com∣prehend there can be any such. They are those, (answered Amilcar) who being engag'd in a great employment, do not cease to forecast how to acquit themselves of it, that they may enjoy a certain quiet, which hath always some pleasure in it; yet having a kind of humorousness in their heads, which I cannot express, they do not the things they are obliged to, but busie themselves in matters which they might better dispense with, and neglect all their lives, and to which they have no engagement. For when I see a Priest omit the care of the Temple he ministers to, that knows nothing of the quality of Victims, and scarce the ceremonies of a Sacrifice; but yet discourses well concerning War, Musick, and Hunting, I am pos∣sess'd with the most pleasant indignation in the world; for at the same time I contemn him, I take infinite delight to mock and abuse him. When I observe a Senator with his grave aspect (which he sometimes sets off with a little constraint) ig∣norant of the Laws of his Countrey, and going about to play the Gallant with a Lady, who de∣rides his bad courtship; I conclude, he will do better to keep in his Closet, than to meddle with an unsuitable indecorous Art, and neglect what is incumbent and proper to his place. On the other side, when I see a man, whose age and condition qualifies him for a Gallant, put on an awful Se∣natorious gravity, and dive into the Doctrine of Pythagoras, and speak no smaller word than that of Transmigration, or Metempsychosis; I sigh, and exclaim, O gods! Why is not this man idle? So likewise when I behold a Captain, whom it be∣hoves to be generous, and to understand his pro∣fession, that knows only the terms of the military Art he follows, and yet is well skill'd in that of Dancing, I wish he would do nothing through∣out all his life. On the contrary, when I perceive a person, whose mean birth and abilities ought to with-hold him from intermedling with any thing, who yet thrusts himself into all businesses, I am as much unsatisfi'd that this man is not idle too. Now if any offer to retort unto me, that idleness is good for nothing, I may at least presume to affirm, that it does hurt to none, and that there is no compa∣rison between idleness and ingratitude. True, (said Herminius) ingratitude is the vilest of all vices, and most oposite to natural equity; for it is never found so much as amongst brutes, nor even the most cruel and savage of them. Benefits and kindnesses mollifie Lions; Men alone are naturally capable of ingratitude. The most remarkable enormity of this vice, is that it is directly opposite to Justice, and overthrows all Laws of Society, which among people endued with reason, ought to be nothing else, but a continual commerce of good offices. According to the Laws of Humanity, it behoveth to do good to whosoever stands in need of it; judge therefore, whether it be not just to do so to them, from whom benefits have been received. But there are people of such an evil heart, that when they are too much oblig'd, they decline those to whom they are engag'd, and by degrees grow to a pass not to endure them. 'Tis a strange humour in some (said Plotina) whom I know, that will not do any thing for those who have done all things for them, and yet render considerable ser∣vices to such, as never did them the least civility. These people are much of their perverse natures, who love better to make presents than to pay their debts: But the best is, that nevertheless all the world declaims against this odious quality, and there is no ungrateful person but decries ingrati∣tude. This proceeds (said Herminius) for that no person does justice to himself, and because the greatest part of men would appear what they are not. That which amazes me more (continued he) is, to observe, that this crime is so general, since 'tis the only one which is absolutely void of all pleasure. For a man who usurps the property of another, enriches himself by doing so; a De∣tractor has the pleasure of being easily believ'd; a Cheater has the satisfaction, of attaining to the end he designed to himself; a Vindicative per∣son has the contentment of revenging himself, by committing acts of cruelty: but an Ingrateful man can never think of what has been done for him, without some kind of shame and regret. I as∣sure you (answered Plotina) they which are ar∣riv'd to the highest pitch of ingratitude, never think of that which has been done for them. But if they do not (replied Herminius) yet they have no pleasure in not thinking of it; and so you a∣gree to what I asserted. I confess it really, (said she) for I love no contesting: But to compleat the satisfaction of my curiosity, tell me, I beseech you, which of all ingratitudes is the blackest? That (answered Amilcar) where the obligation is greatest. That is not directly the thing I en∣quire, (replied Plotina.) What is it then (said Cesonia) which you demand? I would know (said this lovely Virgin) in which profession of persons, ingratititude is most odious, whether in the mind of a King, or in those of his subjects; of a master, or a slave: amongst friends, or be∣tween a Father and his Children, or a Hus∣band and a Wife, or a Lover and his Mistriss? Ingratitude is a thing so horrible, (answered Her∣minius) that it never found an Advocate which dar'd to defend it, or to confess himself capable of it. Some acknowledge indeed, that they are am∣bitious, cholerick, and revengeful; but none will own that he is ungrateful: Wherefore ingratitude must be absolutely condemn'd, whereever it is found. But yet there are several degrees, (re∣plied Plotina) and I think I may almost confident∣ly adjoyn, that there is no equality in any thing under the Sun. According to my apprehension, (said Amilcar) ingrateful persons may be divided into three orders; for some are so in point of Du∣ty, others in relation to Friendship, and others in respect of Love. Those in point of Duty, are Kings, and Subjects; Fathers, and Children; Ma∣sters,

and Slaves; Husbands, and Wives: Those in reference to Friendship, are Friends of both Sexes; And lastly those in relation to love, are Lovers and their Ladies. Amilcar hath spoken ju∣diciously, (answered Herminius) it cannot be de∣nyed; though among them, which he terms in∣grateful in reference to duty, sometimes there may be some, that merit a place too among those that are so in matter of Friendship. But, speaking ge∣nerally, he hath well ranked these Monsters; and it remains only to examine, which are most culpa∣ble, For my part, (said Amilcar) I believe they which are ungrateful in point of Duty, are the most criminal. But my opinion (said Cesonia) is, that their guilt is greatest, who practise ingrati∣tude in Friendship. Mine, (said Aemilius) that the foulest aspect of this vice is, when it appears a∣mong the Votaries of Love. I affirm so too, (an∣swered Herminius) and you only prevented me in declaring this truth. If there were a fourth part to be taken, (said Plotina) I would choose it: but being 'tis otherwise, I will attend what to resolve on, till you have delivered your Reasons. As for mine (said Amilcar, smiling) I shall soon have done it, since I have nothing else to say, but on∣ly that Love cannot be plac'd, in comparison with that kind of Duty we understand; for men, who have made Laws to teach Kings to Govern, and People to Obey, have made none to teach Grati∣tude in Love; and all the Morality of the god∣dess, ador'd in Cyprus, is no where to be found but in Sonnets. The same reason (answer'd Aemilius) which oblig'd Numa to make no Laws against parricides, has, without question, oblig'd all Legislators to mention almost nothing concern∣ing Love; because, as Numa imagin'd, there could be no parricide, so they presum'd it impossible ingratitude should be in Love. But however it be (answer'd Amilcar) I am not bound to speak as the matter is, but only what I think. And therefore I say, looking upon Love as a piece of Gallantry, I do not occount the ungrateful of this Order the blackest; but judge those that are in∣grateful in friendship, more criminal, though less than those which are so in respect of Duty, which I spoke of. Certainly, if the consequence of Ingra∣titude ought to be considered, in order to deter∣mining the greatness of it, it must be granted me, that ingratitude in Love produces divertisement and pleasure in the world, instead of disturbing humane society; for usually, amorous Ingratitudes occasion the composure of very excellent Verses. As for that which happens between two friends, though it be horrible, yet at most it only causes ha∣tred to succeed in the room of friendship, and some families to be divided. But the ingratitude of bad Kings towards their Subjects (if the respect due to them will permit such language) is the oc∣casion of a thousand injustices; and that of Peo∣ple towards their Kings causes seditions, revolts, and eternal wars. The ingratitude of Fathers to Children, and Children to Fathers, extinguishes all natural sentiments; that of Husbands to Wives, and Wives to Husbands, occasions almost all criminal affections, and tragical deeds. Judge therefore whether I was mistaken, when I affirmed the ingrateful in Duty were the most dangerous. I know not whether they be the most dangerous, (answered Cesonia) but I maintain that one un∣grateful in friendship can never be a true honest man; and yet 'tis not impossible sometimes for one ingrateful in Duty to be so. For, to instance, there may be Kings who will give no acknwledge∣ment of the services performed for them; who study more their own glory, than the quiet of their people, and will not be other than great Princes. Indeed, if all Kings really lov'd their Subjects, as a good Father ought to love his Children, and would take especial notice of the services which are per∣formed for them, they would never make War, except to defend them, but peaceably permit them to till their native soil, and be induc'd by no ambition to make new acquests of Territory at the expence of their lives, who love and obey them. Perhaps there may possibly be ingratitudes in Ambition, of not so black a stain, as those of friendship. All such as have began a new domi∣nion, have been ingrateful to their Countrey: yet whilst in their climbing from mean Citizens to the heigth of grand Princes, Fortune justified their ingratitude, they have been placed in the same de∣gree with Heroes. But as for an ingrateful friend, he hath been always ranked amongst the base and treacherous. Fathers and Children, Husbands and Wives, ingratitude is not so odious when it is found amongst them; but only because there is a great duty of mutual love incumbent upon them. For though I am of opinion, it is always fit for children to respect and obey those to whom they owe their lives; yet I hold, that when a man hap∣pens to have one of those Fathers that are too much so, and who, acting perpetually by their authority, never do any thing with tenderness, he may in some sort be excusable, if he ascribe not all imaginable acknowledgements to him; never∣theless I agree, that he ought always to honor and serve him. But there is a certain respect or de∣cency, and an obedience proceeding from reason, very different from those which are produced by a real acknowledgement. The same I say of Fathers and Children, is also applicable to Husbands and Wives. Moreover, there is another reason, which renders ingratitude between friends more detest∣able, than between those I now mentioned. For Kings make no choice of their Subjects, and all Subjects do not elect their Kings; no more do Fathers choose their Children, or these their Fa∣thers: Interest, for the most part, makes all Mar∣riages, rather than Reason or Love. Wherefore when all these persons are defective in acknow∣ledgements, though they deserve blame; yet 'tis in a less measure than ingrateful friends do; espe∣cially, because not loving at all, they lessen the value of the obligations they have one towards an∣other; for conceiving their duty less, it is not strange if they dispence with a part of what they owe. As for Lovers, though their ingratitude be horrible, yet it may be alledg'd, that since we love not whom we will, we cannot be oblig'd thereunto in spight of our inclinations; and be∣sides, as Love seises on one party first, when such possession seises on the one side, it commonly be∣gins on the other; whence a Lover, whose inte∣rest is dis-respected, believes not himself so oblig'd as he is to the person by whom he is belov'd. But for friends, they are chosen by us, we are volunta∣rily oblig'd to them, we sue unto, and engage them, we readily admit of their services, not

being constrained to a confederate amity, either by the Laws, or any disordered Passion; and by consequence, nature, reason, justice, virtue, and glo∣ry, exact of us a correspondent return of good of∣fices, and when it is not in a mans power to per∣form that, he ought never at least, to forget the obligation he hath to his Friend, but publish and own it with delight. For my part, I confess, I cannot comprehend how there should be ingrate∣ful friends, or how there can be any people which endure those which are so. What assurance can there be in the heart of a man, who is wanting to his friend and himself? what sentiment is able to retain him, who despises friendship, justice, and glory, and makes himself apparent to be as impru∣dent as false? for indeed, the ingrateful ruines his reputation amongst all people of honor, and does himself more mischief than others, though perhaps he is not sensible of it. It were not impossible, but one ingrateful to his Prince may be grateful to his friend, and his Mistress, and also to the other Relations I mentioned; but I judge, an ingrateful Friend, may be an ingrateful Subject, Father, Child, Hus∣band, and Lover, for friendship is a thing so sacred, that who so contemns it, is capable of violating all things; Wherefore I conceive my opinion more warranted by reason than that of Amilcars. You are highly ingenious, (answered Herminius) and I confess, all you have said in favor of Friendship is admirably well discoursed, and so much the more as it serves to prove, that the most horrible of all Ingratitudes is Ingratitude in Love. Which be∣fore I undertake, I must declare, that there is no kind excusable, but all ingrateful persons merit contempt and detestation. It is not material to ex∣amine whether a man loves or hates, to know whe∣ther he ought to be grateful. For upon the recep∣tion of a benefit, he is indispensably obliged to be acknowledged for it, not only to his friends, but also to his enemies, when he accepts a good office from their hands: And besides, I am not satisfied whether a man be not obliged to gratitude, even when he refuses the services they would do him.

The word [Acknowledgment] so clearly im∣plies the necessary obligation of him that receives a favor from any one, that none can be ignorant of it. To acknowledge a good turn, is to be always in a propensity of doing what has been done for you; and whosoever feels not in his breast a continual desire of performing that towards another which has been done to serve him, is without question secretly ingrateful, and will discover himself upon the first occasion presented him, of serving those by whom he has been obliged. But to come to the particular design I have, to make it apparent, that Ingratitude in Love is more abominable than all others, I stand not in need of very many words to do it. For though there can be no small ingra∣titude, yet it is certain, it may be more or less great, according as the person is more or less ob∣liged. For if a man owes his life to a friend, he is more oblig'd to him, than if he owed to him only his Fortune; and consequently is more in∣grateful to him, than if he were accountable to him for a less engagement. Which being so, what doubt can be made of the question in hand, and is there any thing that may be placed in compa∣rison with Love? A man serves his King, his Fa∣ther, his Master, and his Friend; but a Lover gives himself to his Mistress, and a Mistress her self to her Lover; 'tis Love alone that has the power to make two hearts one. I know friend∣ship boasts of being able to do it, but without reason. Two friends that are most intimately such, may have each his Mistress which will divide them, or at least render their friendship less con∣siderable to them, because it will no longer af∣ford them their greatest contentment. But when Love closely unites two persons together, whose breasts are tender, and minds intelligent, I defie all the power of Friendship to divide them. There∣fore since Love is an union incomparably more strong and perfect than Friendship, and nothing can be parrallel'd with the obligation we have to a person who bestowes his whole heart, it is easie to conclude, that there is no ingratitude of a deeper dye, than that of a Lover towards a Mistress, or a Mistress towards a Lover. But when I mention Love, I am not to be understood of those triffling sorts of Love which wear a name they deserve not, for they who love at this rate, giving themselves only for the time which they spend in jollity, are engaged to nothing but to divert themselves as best they may, so long as they have a fancy to be seen, and loved. But I mean a certain ardent and sin∣cere Love, founded upon esteem and virtue; in which is made a real commutation of hearts, where Desires are the same in two breasts, and seem likely to continue so eternally. For since there is nothing more precious in the world than an affection of this nature, therefore who ever is capable of Ingratitude after such a dearness, is the most perfidious and vile of all other ingrateful per∣sons. Yet there is a certain interressed disposition in men, which almost generally induces them to detest one that is ungrateful, by forgetting a good office done him, in relation to his fortune; more than a criminal Lover, who extinguishes out of his mind all memorials and tokens of a great pas∣sion conferred on him. But to speak reasonably, there is nothing more unjust, nor even more in∣humane, than to be capable of ingratitude towards a person, who has given all he was able, by give∣ing his heart. For in Love, the services which are received ought to be reckoned upon as in Friend∣ship; because when two persons love perfectly, it must be supposed they are qualified to do and suffer all things one for the other, even to the loss of life. As soon as they love, they mutually owe one another all the offices which love can prompt them to; and this community of duty they ought to make reckoning of, as much as of services per∣formed, since there is nothing requisite more but occasion, which depends solely on fortune. By this discourse of yours (replyed Aemilius coldly) it seems, that Gratitude in love belongs only to happy Lovers. I should be very glad it were so, (said Plotina, smiling) and that some distinction be made in reference to Acknowledgment; for other∣wise I should be in a desperate case, if I apprehend∣ed my self obliged not to be ingrateful to three or four persons, which make semblance of loving me. There is without doubt, (answered Herminius) considerable distinction to be made in these sort of matters; for excepting in Love, it behoveth never to receive a good office, without an incli∣nation of mind to repay it, and a resentment of

the obligation. But the case is not the same in Love; and Acknowledgment, in order to being per∣fect, ought never to be against either Justice or Virtue. But it would be against both, if a Lady equally acknowledged the affection of four or five Lovers; for indeed Love cannot be divided. But what then shall become of the services of unhap∣py Lovers, (said Aemilius?) and why is not she ac∣cusable of ingratitude who receives and not ac∣knowledges them? Impossibility (answered Her∣minius) gives bounds to all things, and it is easie to be understood. A Lady loves not whom she pleases, and when she loves some one, she can have no other recognisance for them which she loves not and serve her, than that which obliges her to pit∣ty them, and wish them cur'd of their Love; and moreover to serve them as generous friends, when she finds occasion to do it. The Virtues are ne∣ver in hostility among themselves; and one should not be truly grateful, if he were so with injustice. It is not lawful to injure one friend, in order to doing service to another; and when 'tis said, We ought to acknowledge all good offices we receive, it is meant, after such a manner as may with rea∣son be done. Thus may a Lady not render Love for Love, without being ingrateful; and 'tis to speak strictly only reciprocal Love, that has re∣ference to that black ingratitude which I account so monstrous, and which amases me so much the more, in that it cannot be committed but against such a person of all the World, as one is most loved by, and most ingaged to love. And now to speak of Ingratitude in general, it can never be good for any thing. Ambition may produce good effects, Love oftentimes excites to atchieve great actions, Indignation serves sometimes to uphold Justice; Cruelty, as terrible as it is, may be in some sort pro∣fitable in the breasts of those who in order to sa∣ving a mans life are constrained to cut off his Arm, But Ingratitude is almost the sole thing which is good only to do mischief. On the other side gra∣titude, though a virtue which makes not so much noise as many others, is nevertheless compleatly heroical in the breasts of those that understand it aright; and I cannot decide whether there be not sometimes as much glory in the handsome acknow∣ledgment of a Civility, as for a man himself to con∣fer a favor. Whilst they were thus arguing, The∣mistus arrived, who conducted the olitary Merige∣nes to Caesonia's house, by whom he was received with extraordinary kindness. Plotina also expres∣sed to him all the civility his quality required; Aemilius testified much joy to see him, having known him before at Eryx; Herminius likewise made him many caresses; and Amilcar, who was friend to all worthy persons, was his as soon as he saw him. To signifie to him that he was not ig∣norant of his affairs, he demanded of him whe∣ther he were not weary of his solitude, and his rare Closet which was so excellently adorned, and inquired whether an Illustrious friend of his of near habitation to him, stood yet in need of all his constancy to undergo the many vexations which attend a decaying health; and then desired that he would tell him news of the Princess of Elis, who was gone to Eryx, to implore Venus that she might have the priviledge of kindling love in the breasts of others, yet keeping her own insensible. You ask me so many things at once (answered Me∣rigenes) that it is not possible for me to satisfie you suddenly. But I shall tell you, that Rome is a very fit place to comfort one of the Desart, that the sight of the Capitol is sufficiently pleasing to make me contentedly suffer my absence from my Closet, that the illustrious friend you speak of, is ever the most prudent and virtuous of all men, and with∣all the most miserable through his unhealthiness, and that the Princess of Elis having fallen sick at Eryx, is diverted into my Defart, to recover the perfect lustre of her incomparable complexion. And now I have answered all the Questions, I beseech you tell me why you ask me tidings of the fair Elismonda, and whether or no you know her. I know her, (replyed Amilcar, smiling) only by the report of Aemilius, who never saw her; but I wish I were so happy to know her my self. For indeed I have a kind of curiosity to understand how that unjust person is compos'd, who addresses confidently to the Mother of Love, that she would impower her to inflame others with that passion, and be exempted from it her self. And because you have seen her for some days in the De∣sart, I conceive you will much oblige the Com∣pany by describing her. Though I have no great skill in Peinture (answered Merigenes) yet I shall indeavor to represent her Pourtraiture to you, in case the Ladies before whom I speak require it as well as you. For my part (said Caesonia) I am always very well contented, Amilcar should have any thing granted him that may satisfie his curio∣sity; for he has such an excellent faculty of using all he knows, that he can never know too much, And as for me, (said Plotina) the sentiment of the Princess of Elis, seems to me so gallant, that it gives me the same curiosity too. And I, (said Herminius) were it for nothing else, but because she reigns in a place where the Olympick Games, which are the famousest of all Greece, are celebra∣ted should not be unwilling to have some know∣ledge of her. Since 'tis thus, (said Merigenes) I shall betake my self to content your curiosity, though I must declare to you, that the Princess of Elis is a person, whose Picture is not so easily to be drawn as you imagine. For whatever diligence I may bring to effect it, I am assured I shall never make it perfectly resemble her; but they who well know the fair Elismonda, will judge, that I have fallen short in delineating her pourtract. But since 'tis impossible for me not to obey you, I shall tell you, that that young Princess is exactly of the stature which I would have the Mother of Love represent∣ed by, for I cannot approve of those Peinters and Sculptures, who set forth Venus to us in such an extraordinary size, that it cannot be imagined that Cupid should be her Son, who if he had a sister, it may be thought she would without doubt resemble the Princess of Elis. You understand by this, that Elismonda is not great, but from the first being of handsome persons, there was never any whose stature was better proportioned, nor more sutable to the ayr of her countenance and beauty, than hers; for were she somewhat taller, or a little lower, any thing more thick, or a thought more slender, she would infallibly lose some part of that which renders her so lovely,; so true it is, that she is, such as is requisite for her to be, ex∣actly shaped. Elismonda's hair is flaxen, and so wonderfully comely, that Art only serves to com∣pose

and place it, though perhaps a careless disor∣der sometimes renders it more graceful. The shape of her countenance is Oval, her nose is well and regularly proportioned, her mouth curiously fram∣ed, teeth white, complexion very clear and smooth, the ayr of youth diffus'd over all her face, ceru∣leous eyes, sweet, smiling, sprightly, and yet a little languishing; and that which makes her in∣finitely charming, is her pleasing and attracting Aspect, which promises nothing but goodness and tenderness. Then Elismonda's neck is so well made, that it appears handsome even after langui∣shing tedious sicknesses. For her arms and hands; they leave all description beneath them, for whe∣ther it be by reason of their shape, whiteness, plump∣ness, or I know not what secret unexpressible charm, 'tis not possible but to forbear holding her eyes, how lovely soever, for some moments, and turn them to admire the beauty of the rarest hands and arms in the World, when the occasion of lifting up her veil, or rectifying something about her head-tire, or doing any other action, cau∣ses the discovery of their handsomness. Another greater loveliness in the Princess of Elis, is the freedom of her carriage, for though she loves her self enough, yet she is far from all ostentative af∣fectation of seeming fair, she has ever the same natural neatness, nothing savoring of fantastical∣ness, her dress is not over finical, nor too much neglected, and her attire never too magnificent, yet 'tis very stately, and she wears it with a singu∣lar grace, she chooses with Art such colours as are most advantageous to her, and if she have especial care in any thing; 'tis in artificial and becoming bracelets, and to be always alike neat, whether she be dress'd or not. For Wit, without question Elis∣monda, has a plenteous stock of it, especially of such as enhances the power of Beauty. She speaks grace∣fully, she is gentle, civil, and even flattering when she pleases, though sometimes she puts on a colder air towards certain people, whom she does not much affect. And then for her disposition, tis extream∣ly even and uniform, especially towards her friends. Her temper is apparently something inclinable to melancholly, but she scarce ever discovers any in conversation, and only serves her self of it in the passionate singing of languishing ayrs; for Elismon∣da's voice is infinitely pleasing, wherewith she re∣peats Love-verses after so affecting a manner, that you would judge she felt her self the passion which the Sonnets express, and take her for the Author, by her exact reach of their sentiments, who were inspired by Love in the composition. Moreover, Elismonda is merry when she is in company that pleases her., yet 'tis always a modest mirth, and never ascends to those excessive wantonnesses which are discordant to seemliness. On the other side, when she thinks fit, she puts on a more serious deportment, though without disgust to any. Nor is she like those fair ones, who ever resort to all great feasts; for she loves not a croud, and very selfom goes to a Ball, notwithstanding she dan∣ces with an excellent grace. As little is she of the humor of those, who would think their beauty undervalued, if it do not every year procure them great number of Collations, Treatments, and Se∣••enades. For Elismonda is contented to conquer hearts, without desiring such testimonies of affecti∣on; and excepting some praises in Verse, which she sometimes suffers to be given her, she can ne∣ver resolve to receive any thing, either from her Lovers or Friends of either sex. But Elismonda's heart being great and noble, she loves naturally to give, and to make, handsome Treatments at home, not to seek them from others. She has moreover a quality very rare in a person fair and young, not to speak ill of any person living in the least, pic∣quant and dangerous railleries are displeasing to her, and 'tis against her desire if any person what∣soever be injur'd. 'Tis not to be doubted but that Elismonda loves praises, and though she declare she will never love any besides the Prince of Elis, who alone has been able to make impressions on her heart, yet she takes it not ill that she is esteem∣ed, admired, and adored; and if any thing of cru∣elty harbors in her soul, tis in having a general de∣sign to please, without caring to make some per∣sons miserable, whom she never intends to render happy. Not but that she has reason to persist faith∣ful to the Prince of Elis, for certainly never man was owner of more generosity and goodness than he, nor in whom all the qualities of a true person of honor may be more essentially found. He is well made of his person, has a losty aspect, a noble heart, a just mind, a gentle nature, a tender soul, he is an ardent friend, and a more ardent lover, he is liberal, real, wise, and moderate; loves rea∣sonable delights, and justice above all things. So that to speak according to justice, Elismonda has reason to make all her Lovers unhappy, though they may be pardoned for repining a little against her charms and beauty, when they suffer the tyranny of it. It's always just for one that suffers to com∣plain (answered Amilcar.) True, (said Plotina) for I should complain of my self, had I occasioned my own mischief; and we also see Men complain more or less, according to the different degrees of affection they have for those, who cause them to suffer. But to return to Elismonda, if I were as∣sured her vows were heard, I would forth with prepare my self for a journey to Eryx. Then you are afraid of being in love, (said Herminius smiling.) Indeed (replyed she) I am unwilling to entertain that passion; and for the present, I find it trouble enough, to be continually repressing the esteem which we have of honorable persons; it being hourly necessary, for our minds to be sentinels to our hearts, to observe carefully that Love enter not thereinto, under the disguise of tender friend∣ship. One thing (said Cesonia) I am very confident of, that some persons known to me are in Love, and never think they are so. A mistake of this kind may sometimes fall out, (answered Amilcar) but 'tis not possible to be always deceived so. For my part, (interpos'd Themistus) I know other people very opposite to those you speak of; for they believe themselves in love, when they are on∣ly possessed with a kind of wanton folly, which scarce resembles love at all. Whilst Themistus was speaking thus, Zenocrates arrived, who being first made to understand the person of Merigenes, inform∣ed this noble company, that there was brought to Valerius a man of Veii, who had been taken and was found encharged with several important Letters. Was he coming to Rome, (said Cesonia?) Zenocrates made some difficulty to answer, but The∣mistus, judging it was because of the presence of Merigenes, engaged for his fidelity, so that re∣suming

his discourse; he was coming to Rome, (said he) without question, his business being to speak with Clelius from a Veientine, called Mamilius, his antient friend, they say to whom Horatius is slave, though they of Veii know not his quality. You will find (said Herminius) that 'twas to that very Veientine, Clelius sent secretly, to endeavor the delivery of Horatius. 'Tis the very same, (replyed Zenocrates) and Clelius does his utmost to hinder the Consuls from using him that is taken severely. But what was his message to Clelius, (demanded Herminius.) He came to tell him (answered Zenocrates) that Ma∣milius assured him, that though he were of a side enemy to his, he should persevere his friend, and ever express testimonies of amity to him, as far as the interest of his party would permit. If this man be only charged with such Commissions, (re∣plyed Herminius) there is no cause to treat him hardly. Were there no more but this, (answered Zenocrates,) he would be out of danger, but Let∣ters have been found about him from the Prince Titus to Collatina and Hermilia; which 'tis true, speak nothing concerning affairs of State; but there is one from Tarquin, to the chief Pontiff, in which that Prince, exaggerating the excessive expence he made, to testify his zeal towards the gods, when he caused the Temple of Jupiter to be built, seems desirous to engage him to recompence him for it, by embracing his interests, and cunningly insinuating into the minds of his people, that 'tis fit he were recalled. But amongst all those several Letters, the man had some others which intimate, that having ended his negotiating at Rome, he had order to go into Greece to the Princess of Elis; for there is one from the Veientine we spoke of to the Prince of that Country. And that which is suffi∣ciently strange, this Veientine speaks to him with very much authority, and almost commands him to go in person to Delphos, to consult the oracle concerning the success of the War which the Veien∣tines have determined to make against Rome. For whereas Tarquin, heretofore sent the Princess his sons thither, when Brutus accompanyed them, the Veientines observing lately, how true the Oracle they received has been found, by Brutus's become∣ing master of Rome, they would know what the event of their design would prove. And accord∣ingly Mamilius writes, as I told you, to the Prince of Elis, to oblige him to consult that Oracle, en∣gaging himself to make a considerable offering to the Temple of Delphos, in the name of his Repub∣lick. There are also in the same Letter many other things, which cannot be understood. But is this Prince of Elis (said Plotina, turning to∣wards Merigenes) nothing to the Princess Elis∣monda, whose Picture you just now gave us? He is her Husband, (answered Merigenes) and the person I mentioned after I had described the Prin∣cess his wife; and it ought not to be wondered at, if Mamilius speaks to that Prince with authority, for he is his father. But how comes it to pass, (demanded Plotina) that the son of a Veientine, is Prince of Elis? Fortune, who is capricious, (an∣swered Merigenes) does things much more asto∣nishing than this. But yet I can assure you, that since she first made adventures of War, of Love, and of Generosity, she never made any more sur∣prising than those which have befallen the Prince of Elis. And truly, it ought not to be accounted strange, that Mamilius is so strongly perswaded of a Power, foreseeing things to come; for he has an example of it in the Prince his Son, which will not suffer him to doubt it. All the company hear∣ing this discourse of Merigenes, had great curiosity of knowing the History of the Prince and Prin∣cess of Elis, but because it was already sufficiently late, and Herminius judged it important to let Va∣lerius know, the Prince of Elis was Son of Mami∣lius, and moreover, was willing to go see Valeria, he said, 'twas requisite to refer the business to the next morning, and that Valeria ought to have her part in this pleasure, and accordingly the compa∣ny broke up and departed. But to the end Vale∣rius might be better informed of what it was fit he should know, Themistus accompanyed Merige∣nes to the Consul, to whom he declared very im∣portant matters; For, you know (said Merigenes to Valerius) that the Family of the Tarquins is ori∣ginally of Corinth, upon which account it would not be impossible, but Mamilius might engage the Prince his son to persuade the Corinthians to em∣brace the interests of Tarquin. And being the Com∣merce of Corinth into Sicily is great, they might afterwards engage some of the Princes of that Island, which is nearer hither than themselves, to intermeddle in this War. After which, Meri∣genes offered himself to negotiate with the Prince of Elis, whose virtue is so great, that he was con∣fident he would be always on the side of Justice, assuring him, that there were also some matters in his life, which engaged him to be enemy to all Tyrants. Valerius thanked Merigenes, and with∣out refusing the offer which he made, of treating the interests of Rome with the Prince of Elis, he entreated him to inform him, by what adventure the son of Mamilius, who was believed lost in a long voyage, came to be Prince of Elis. But Me∣rigenes answering him, that the story was long, and that there was at least as much War as Love in it, Valerius smiling, gave commission to Herminius, to learn the same from Merigenes, since the publick affairs did not allow him leisure enough at present. Thus the History of the Princess of Elis, which Merigenes was to relate only to content the curiosi∣ty of Cesonia, Plotina, and Amilcar, became almost a necessary affair of State. But in order to it, the next morning, after Herminius had been to make a visit to Clelia and Octavius, who was somewhat better to day, he went to Valeria's house, where Cesonia, Plotina, Themistus, Amilcar and Merigenes were also met. And Merigenes knowing he had many things to relate, after the first civilities were over, and Valeria, who received him very civilly, had intreated him to begin the narration he had promised, spoke in this manner, addressing him∣self to Valeria, to whom Plotina had already told all that she knew concerning the Princess of Elis.

THE HISTORY Of the PRINCESS ELISMONDA.

YOU will perhaps judge me very presumptuous, Madam in daring to entertain you with the adventures of your Neighbors and tell you of things done at Veii, which is not far from your Gates, as if I were a Tus∣can, and not a Native of Asia: Tis true, Fortune has guided me into so many different regions, my habitation has so long been in Sicily, and my travels so universal all over Italy, that I can almost term every place my Coun∣trey. To me, according to the genius I am of, all persons of honor are fellow-Citizens; and I ne∣ver put real distinction between men, besides what virtue alone makes. Now Madam, I must acquaint you that the Prince of Elis, whose name is Hortensius, is of a most illustrious race. For his Family is as antient as the City wherein he was born, which is, as you know, one of the most con∣siderable of those twelve famous Cities, which share amongst them the Dominion of all Tuscany. But not to detain you with unprofitable particula∣rising all the several badges of honor which belong to that House, I shall only intimate, that it pos∣sessed the highest imployments in Veii, and that they report that one of the Predecessors of Hor∣tensius, heretofore gave that famous Statue of Juno, whom they call Queen Juno, which they have plac'd in a stately Temple erected for it. For as the Veientines adore the Goddess represented by it as the tutelar Deity of their City, and are natu∣rally superstitious; so they believe if this Statue should be taken from them, their City would be destroyed. I say this Madam, to the end that remembring the nature of the Tuscanes, you may not think strange that the Illustrious Father of Hor∣tensius, has been capable of doing that which you shall understand in the sequel of my discourse. Which before I unfold to you, it is requisite you know, that that generous Veientine, who is called Mamilius, was always virtuous from his first youth, that he loved his Countrey eminently more than all things, and glory as much as his Countrey, and that as it is the custom of those of this Nation to consult their Augurs, which are the most learned of the world in the art they pretend to, he con∣sulted the most famous that he knew concerning the birth of his only son, Hortensius, whose life I am relating to you. But all he inquired of (first telling him that his son should be indued with a thousand great qualities) assured him it was the decree of fate for him to raign in the place where he should live, and that it was impossible but he should dye a Soveraign. This generous Veientine, instead of rejoycing was afflicted with this answer, for loving his native soil with an extream Passion, he judged himself the most unhappy of all men, in having a son, whom he feared would become Ty∣rant of his Countrey. Which perplexing thought not forsaking him, and being willing to find cause to doubt of what the Augurs of his City had told him, he went from City to City throughout all Tuscany, to consult all such as were in repute for skill in the art of Divinations. But the more he consulted, the more was his fear augmented, for all told him the same thing. Afterwards being not yet satisfied, he went to Praeneste to the fa∣mous Temple of Fortune, which is upon the top of the Mountain, on which this City is built, to try whether the Praenestine Lots would agree with the Augurs which he had consulted. For which (you are not ignorant) there is in that place a kind of Oracle of Chance, which seems to decide the destinies of men. But at Praeneste too, as well as at Veii, this generous Father found that his Son was born to rule, and that it was necessary he should render himself absolute Master of a Soveraignity. This being so decreed; his noble Father, whose virtue caused his affliction, returned to Veii, and without discovering any thing of his sorrow, pro∣vided for the education of his Son in the best man∣ner he could, if possibly by industry and the flexi∣bleness of his minority he might oppose the power of Destiny, which seemed to intend him for a Tyrant of his Countrey. But as the Child grew up in years, so was his inquietude augmented; by reason there ever appeared some Token of Superio∣rity in all his actions. If he played with Children of equal age, he would be the master of them; he had a lofty aspect, lov'd not to obey his equals, and gave testimonies both of courage and wit, and lastly, was very lovely and excellently well made. Hortensius liv'd on this sort till the age of seven years, when being in the Temple of Queen Juno, where a multitude of people were assembled, be∣cause it was the day whereon they celebrated the

feast of that goddess, He went boldly to seat him∣self in a Chair raised three steps high, which was never us'd but by the chief of the Augurs who was Priest; and though they endeavour'd to make him go thence, he kept himself there immoveable, till the Augur came thither to perform the cere∣mony. Whose intreaties and commands were all ineffectual to perswade him from his seat, so that he was constrain'd to pull him out forcibly. Where∣upon the Augur observing whose Child it was, and remembring what himself had foretold con∣cerning him, transported with zeal to his Coun∣trey, turning himself towards the Statue of Juno, and lifting up his voice and his hands towards it, O great goddess (cry'd he) be pleas'd to avert, that this dangerous Child become not the Tyrant of a place, where men adore you with so sincere de∣votion. He had scarce pronounc'd this, but there arose a confusion of voices amongst the people. During which, the generous Father of Hortensius, who was most zealous above all the Veientines, of the publick safety, being entred into the Temple, as things were thus, and understanding what had pass'd, stept forth, and with a generosity never parallel'd, took Hortensius by the hand, and ad∣dressing to the Priest, with an admirable con∣stancy, bad him, Go and make a sacrifice of his Son to his Countrey. 'Tis not (added he) for that I believe I ought to deprive him of a life which the gods have given him; but I shall dispose of him in such manner, that Veii shall never be in fear of his ambition. Soon after, this afflicted Fa∣ther, making choice of a friend he had of no great wealth, but virtuous, and who had all his life a very great desire of travel, requested him he would undertake the conduct of his Son, and become a father to him. And assigning him half his wealth, he conjur'd him to go and travel about the world with his Son, to instruct him constant∣ly in virtue, to endeavour to cause him to forget of what Countrey he was, to make him rather choose Greece to live in, than any other place in the world, and never to return into Italy. This man, whose name was Gentius, accordingly accept∣ed the bargain propounded to him by his friend, perceiving he had taken up an unalterable purpose to banish Hortensius, and a few daies after went to take ship at one of the Ports of Tuscany. Whence his first passage was into Sicily, and thence to Co∣rinth, where he educated Hortensius, till he was twenty years old, and then dyed: But for that the wealth Hortensius's Father had given him, had not been improv'd in his hands, but he had al∣most wholly spent it, either in travelling, or in causing Hortensius to be instructed, he left him a very small pittance, and dying suddenly, disco∣ver'd nothing to him of his fortune. For you must know, Madam, Gentius had us'd so much art to cause this Youth to forget of what Countrey he was, that he took himself to be a Sicilian. Not but that he still remembred Veii; but, being Gen∣tius had told him that he was brought to that City at the age of six months, he was at a loss what to imagine; and there was so great a confusion in his memory, of what he had seen during his Child∣hood, that all he was able to conjecture was this, that there must needs have been something very extraordinary in his birth. Wherefore being ex∣cited with greatness of mind; he was loath to seek what he was unwilling to find, and only con∣sider'd with himself, what behov'd him to do at that time. He had very many friends at Corinth, but this was of no advantage to him; and there∣fore hearing there was a War lately broke out be∣tween the Thessalonians and the Opuntines, he re∣solv'd to go thither to try what fortune would do for him, But, as curiosity is always inherent in the Souls of brave persons, Hortensius in his jour∣ney into Thessaly, which is the fairest part of all Macedonia, purposed to go see that famous valley of Tempe, which is between the Mountains, Ossa and Olympus; the top of the latter of which is above all storms and tempests, and can only by night it self be depriv'd of the Sun-beams. Thus Hortensius, having I know not what instinct which oblig'd him to trust to his fortune, he put himself into an equipage of a man of his quality (of which he was ignorant) who travels with no great train, leaving to his destiny the care of providing means to make it subsist. Wherefore accompanied with two slaves, he went directly towards Tempe, which I shall not stay to describe to you, though I have some desire to do it, because it is the most pleasing place that ever I beheld, and whose pleasant pro∣spect occasion'd the endangering of the life of Hor∣tensius. Hold, I beseech you (said Valeria, inter∣rupting Merigenes) speed not so fast, but tell us something of the delectable site of that place, which all the world commends. For my part (said Amil∣car) I was once design'd to go on purpose from Africa to Thessaly, to have the pleasure of walking there. Let us go thither presently (said Plotina) for I believe if Merigenes describe it to us, we shall know what excellency of contrivance, nature has shewn in it, as well as if we had been there. As for me (said Caesonia) I never was against walking. It needs (said Herminius) to be of a bad humour to break this off; and therefore I conceive Merigenes has nothing to do but to pre∣pare himself to make a handsome description: for I take it as granted, Aemilius and Themistus will not disgust it. Both which answering like persons who wish'd whatsoever the company desir'd, Me∣rigenes pursued his discourse in this manner. Tempe is situate between the Mountains Ossa and Olympus which are two the highest of Thessaly, in which there are about thirty four. The length of this fa∣mous Valley is four hundred furlongs: for the breadth, it is sufficiently unequal, for in some pla∣ces it is broader, and in some more contracted. In the midst of this delightful Vale, slides the Ri∣ver Peneus, which being swell'd, by the accession of four other pleasant Rivers is capable of bearing Boats of a considerable size. But that which is re∣markable in it, is, that the River Eurotas, which Homer calls Tittaretia, and which discharges it self into the River Peneus, does not mingle its own wa∣ters with his. For they are distinguishable by the difference of their colour. So that, as if the River Peneus bare disdain to the other, having pass'd some space together without mixing their waters, it casts the River Eurotas on one side, and they both separate without joyning streams. But the greatest Ornament of the valley of Tempe, is the intwining of Ivy about all the Trees that grow there, from their roots to the top, so that no∣thing is seen there but a lovely universal verdure; there is also an Herb admirably grateful to the eye,

called Smilax, which climbs along the Trees, and reflecting downwards like a wild Vine, wholly co∣vers the Earth. Whereby, as I said before, this pleasant valley becomes green all over. There are also seen by the Rivers side, both on the right hand and left, little Woods of Myrtles and Lau∣rels, which offer their shadow to those which pass by. And that which renders this place yet more agreeable, is, that under these shades, several little Brooks purle along, the waters of which are not only pleasant to drink, but excellent for health. There is also a great multitude of Birds which de∣light in this rare Desart, both by reason of the num∣ber of Trees, Thickets, and Rivers, and for the calmness and quiet which perpetually reigns there. Moreover, the River Peneus, after having as it were precipitated it self at the entrance of this Val∣ley, seems to be delighted in it, and slides so slow∣ly, that you would think his stream were asleep. Many Islands appear in his Channel, which serve to embellish both the River and the Valley. As for the people thereabouts, they believing it a place particularly agreeable to the gods, make choice of it to perform sacrifices in, imagining their vows more favourably heard from thence than elsewhere. Which occasions that they which pass through this place alwaies find the air in it perfum'd, either by the incense of sacrifices which are continually offer∣ed there, or by the flowers which grow abundantly in this lovely Vally. The Thessaloniuns say, that Apollo having slain the Serpent Pytho, came thither to pu∣rifie himself by the commandment of Jupiter; af∣ter which he was crowned with Laurel, whereof the Banks of the River Peneus are plentifully be∣set. They report also that after his having been crown'd, he took a bough of the same Laurel, and went to Delphos, and put himself in possession of the Oracle there, which is so universally cele∣brated. In proof of this truth, they shew stran∣gers an Altar, where they affirm he was crown'd, and took that Laurel I speak of. But however it be, all the young people of Delphos go, under the conduct of a Captain, every year to offer a sacri∣fice at Tempe, in memory of Apollo, and return home crown'd with Laurel, singing Hymns and Paeans in celebration of his glory. They pass by the way which they call Pythia, that is to say by Palagonia, Etha, the Enians, Melians, Dorians, Lo∣crians, Herperians; all which several Nations ac∣company those Delphick youths with very much ho∣nor, as they of Delphos accompany those which come to Tempe from more remote regions. But that which renders this Valley yet more extraor∣dinary, is this, That all those you meet with there, behave themselves reverently, as in a place conse∣crated to Apollo, and no unpleasing object offends the eye. Moreover, those two high Mountains which are at one end of the Valley, whose steep∣ness is gradually diminisht as they come further distant from the mouth of the River Peneus where it enters into the Sea, serve to add more handsom∣ness to it. For the place whereby they descend in∣to it, is stony, craggy, unequal, rustical and wild; that the Valley appears more delightful by the rudeness of the entrance. The opinion of the in∣habitants of the Countrey is, that these two Moun∣tains were separated by an Earthquake, before which time the River Peneus having no out-let from this place into the Sea, overflow'd the whole Countrey. And thus you have the prospect of the famous valley of Tempe which Hortensius was de∣sirous to see in his way to Thessaly. And he ac∣cordingly contented his curiosity, being so charm∣ed with the delightfulness of the place, that he re∣solv'd to abide there three or four daies, that he might see the famous Assembly of Delphos I men∣tion'd, which was to be precisely at the time of his being there. He understood also, that the Si∣ster of the Prince of the Messenians, who was then at war with a neighbor Prince, was coming to of∣fer sacrifice in the valley of Tempe, to implore vi∣ctory for the Prince her Brother. But two days being to be staid out, Hortensius, who was dex∣trous at all sorts of exercises, and a great lo∣ver of hunting at that time, not knowing the Laws of the Countrey, betook himself to walk a∣long the River Peneus, causing a Bow and Arrows to be carried by one of his slaves, with intention to make use of the same against some wild Beast, if he met any; for he was singular in the art of shooting. Going therefore one morning to walk in this manner, he perceiv'd something moving cross the reeds. And as they who love such di∣vertisement are more curious than others in the like occasions, he drew near it, and saw it was a great Stork which had seiz'd on a Serpent. Hor∣tensius being stirr'd up with the ardor of a young marks-man, who loves to shew his dexterity, took his Bow, and shot the Bird so fatally, that he deliver'd the Serpent from being devour'd by it. But he had scarce done this, when six arm'd Thes∣salians, who were reposing in a little grove of Laurel not far from thence, came forth suddenly from the place they were in, and set upon him, endeavouring to take him: For you must know, Madam, there is a Law amongst the Thessalians, which forbids the killing of Storks, upon pain of death, because Thessaly being subject to be infest∣ed with a prodigious multitude of Serpents, which are a delightful food to these Fowls, they look up∣on them as Sacred Birds sent them by the gods to deliver them from those Serpents and Vipers. But Hortensius, who had never heard speak of this Law, believ'd those which set upon him to be people that intended to rob him; for understand∣ing not their language very well, which is different from the Greek spoken at Corinth, he observ'd not that they call'd him impious and sacrilegious; and therefore only betook himself to his defence. Which he stood to with a very Heroick courage; for though they were six against him, and he had only one slave unarm'd on his side, yet he wounded three of those that assaulted him, and fought a long while without being able to be taken. But at length four other Thessalians coming to joyn with the former, and his sword being broken, he was constrain'd to yield to the number, and render him∣self. Which he had no sooner done, but he found himself treated like a criminal, and was led by them to a City, which is at the foot of the Mountain Olym∣pus, to the end, that upon their accusation (be∣fore him that administred justice in that place) of having seen him kill a Stork, which was eating a Serpent, he might receive sentence of death, ac∣cording to the Law of the Countrey. Now it hap∣ned as they were leading him along with all the rigor superstition is able to inspire people with, re∣presenting cruelty to be zeal of Religon, they met

a Chariot full of Ladies within a little distance from the Gates of the City, attended by several men on horseback. She who seem'd Mistress of the rest, was fair, and of a goodly aspect, having a kind of air in her face, bespeaking much goodness. This person, who was nam'd Andronice, and Sister to the Prince of the Messenians, beholding so come∣ly a person as Hortensius, and so well cloath'd, led so rudely by ten men, three of which were wound∣ed, desired them to stay a little, and give her the satisfaction of knowing what crime the person they led had committed. The Thessalians judging her a person of high quality, and of a commanding Beauty, told her the crime of Hortensius, adding that he should be cast headlong from a Rock the next morning. This they spoke more clearly than they had done when they assaulted Hortensius, who now understood, as well as Andronice, of what he was accus'd, and the danger impendent over him. Upon which understanding of his cause, addressing himself to the Princess, who seem'd so obligingly to interess her self in his fortune; I will believe, Madam, (said he; for she spake the same lan∣guage with him) that the gods have sent you hi∣ther to save the life af a stranger, who knowing not the Laws of the Countrey, hath committed a crime innocently. For though I am habited in a Grecian garb, I am so far from being a Thessalian, that I was not born in any part of Greece. There∣fore I have reason to hope you will take upon you my protection, in a Countrey where I am unknown to all. 'Tis not (added he with great resolution) for that I am much enamour'd on life, or have any great fear of death; but as I believe it a folly to despise the former too much, and a weakness to be over-apprehensive of the latter, so I believe it no disparagement to the greatness of courage, to beseech your protection; for though I know well you are not of this Countrey, nevertheless I pre∣sume, your condition and your beauty may easily gain you an interest wherever you desire it. Hor∣tensius utter'd these words with so noble an air, that Andronice's heart was much affected with it. But the Thessalians perceiving this discourse might obstruct their design, interrupted it, and forced Hortensius to follow them, especially they who beheld their bloud still flowing from the wounds which he had given them. Yet as Virtue some∣times finds admiration in the breast of the most brutish, there was one of these Thessalians who staid behind the rest, and approaching towards the Chariot of Andronice, told the Princess, that since the man was a stranger, she would do honorably to have commiseration on him, and assured her that he never met with a greater valour than his; after which, he went and joyn'd himself to his companions. In the mean while Andronice; who observ'd Hortensius had the aspect of a man of qua∣lity, and spoke well, that he was courageous and innocent, took up a firm resolution to save his life; and therefore she commanded him that drove her Chariot, to go to the same place whither those peo∣ple went, which conducted the prisoner; and so she arriv'd at the house of him who was to pro∣nounce the sentence on Hortensius at the very same time with him. Who causing it to be known who she was, she was received with respect, and spoke of Hortensius's case, before those who brought him could be heard. Whose true relation of the mat∣ter to the Judge, sensibly affected him with the misfortune of Hortensius; but he told her that the Law he had broken was so rigorously observed in Thessaly, that it was hard to save him. Andronice answer'd him, that the quality of a stranger miti∣gated the fact; But he reply'd, it was suppos'd a stranger ought to be inform'd of the customs of the place whither he goes, and that as soon as a man enters into any Countrey; he becomes subject to the Laws of the same, adding, that it belonged to the people to grant this kind of grace, because they were most concern'd in the crime; and, in summ, that all he could do, was to suspend his judgement, and refer the business to the people. Andronice finding him so inflexible, us'd more mollifying language to him, and did it so effectually, that he promis'd to save the life of this stranger, and to handle the matter so, that the people should con∣sent to it. Nevertheless it behov'd Hortensius to lye in prison at present; but the next morning the Princess Andronice acted so happily, that the peo∣ple pardon'd this illustrious criminal; and as the Thessalians are the least intelligent amongst the Greeks, they made him engage to bring or send another Stork into Thessaly, to the end he might be reputed innocent. As soon as he was free, he went to tender his remerciaments to Andronice, which he did with so good a grace, that she ac∣counted her self well recompenc'd for the service she had done him. But after she had imposed si∣lence to his acknowledgements of the favour he receiv'd, she demanded of him, of what Coun∣trey he was, whither he was going, what design brought him into Thessaly, and what he sought there. For the place of my birth, Madam (said he to her) it is not permitted me to tell you it; but for the other things you ask me, I shall inform you that I came to Tempe only out of curiosity, and my next purpose is to go to the War in Thessaly, to the end I may perform some action, which may render me worthy the protection which I have re∣ceiv'd from you. Since you seek nothing but glo∣ry (answer'd she) come and seek it in the Army of the Prince of Messena my Brother. It being for the happy success of his Arms that I am come into Thes∣aly, so I shall believe my vows have been heard, if I can bring him a person so courageous as you: for whereas being single you were able to keep your self from being taken by six men well appointed; and there needed ten to overcome you; when you co••e to be in an Army which hitherto has not been un∣prosperous, you will without question do things which shall be equally advantageous both to him that does them, and for whose interest they are ex∣ploited. Hortensius hearing these words of Adro∣nice, was extreamly joyful at them; for having no particular design, he was highly pleas'd in find∣ing so commodious an occasion as this, and there∣fore he receiv'd this offer with joy, and assured Andronice, that he should esteem himself absolutely happy in hazarding the life she had preserved to him, in the service of the Prince her brother. Ac∣cordingly he prepar'd himself to follow her so soon as she had dispacht the sacrifice she was determin'd to offer: And not to insist upon matters of small moment, I shall tell you in few words, that An∣dronice having perform'd what she ought to the gods, and seen all the excellencies of the Valley of Tempe, return'd from thence, accompanied by Hor∣tensius.

She had with her two persons of quality, with whom Hortensius soon contracted a friendship. During the journey, Andronice very much aug∣mented the esteem she had conceiv'd of Hortensius, for she found him so full of spirit, so prudent, and so respectful, that he pleas'd her infinitely. Hor∣tensius on the other side observ'd a thousand agree∣able qualities in this Princess, besides her beauty, which was not mean.

But it fell out, that as they were crossing a Wood a little before Sun-set, they heard a great noise of horses, and within a moment after saw about fifty horsemen with their swords in their hands coming to surround the Chariot of Andro∣nice. The Princess had scarce cast her eyes upon the people which inclos'd her, but she espied a Lo∣ver of hers, nam'd Attalus, whom she hated in perfection. So that not doubting but he intended to take her away, Ah Hortensius! (cry'd she, looking about for him) you may now render me more than the life you owe me, by hindring me from being taken away by the Traitor Attalus. At these words, Hortensius, who had already drawn his sword, went with ten or twelve other Horse∣men, who attended on Andronice, directly to∣wards Attalus, whom he easily discover'd to be master of the rest. But for that this incensed Lo∣ver sought not to fight, but only design'd to carry away his Mistriss, Hortensius could not overcome him so soon as he would, by reason Attalus had contriv'd to order his followers to take Andronice out of her Chariot and put her into his Arms, that so he might carry her away, whilst they kept the Princesses attendants in fight. For he was deter∣mined to take sanctuary in that wood, where there stood an old Castle, of which the Master was his friend. But Hortensius being zealous to acquit himself to the full of what he ought Andro∣nice, broke thorow those that oppos'd his passage, and having first slain one and wounded two, en∣countred with Attalus, whose valour was known to all that knew his person. There began a very sharp fight between these two Gallants, while those who accompany'd Andronice, defended them∣selves against the party of Attalus. By the number of which they had without question been over∣power'd, if Hortensius, who was resolv'd either to conquer or dye, had not shew'd extraordinary courage, and made haste to dispatch the head of those people, who were twice as many as those they fought against. For the sense of glory and gratitude redoubled his natural valour, which be∣ing seconded by favour of Fortune, he wounded Attalus in three places, and the last pass that he made at him, running him through the body, he fell down as dead at his horses feet. Which his followers perceiving, some run to succor him, others set upon Hortensius to revenge their Ma∣ster, and part of those who environ'd Andronice's Chariot, fled. But the first victory elevating the heart of Hortensius, advantag'd him to a second, he soon ridding himself of those who assaulted him after the fall of Attalus, whom some of his own carried off, whilst the attendants of Andronice, seconding the courage of Hortensius, help'd him to compleat the conquest. Thus having put to flight or slain all that had attacked them, the Chariot proceeded again forward; and Hortensius marching last, to the end he might be first in fighting, in case they should be follow'd, was happy enough to come off in this adventure, without being wound∣ed, though his cloaths were pierc'd in several pla∣ces. 'Tis true, there were three of the Princess of Messena's people so wounded, that it was re∣quisite to leave them at the next village they came to. Andronice for more surety, would not stay at the place where she had purposed to lodge, but went on as far as the horses were able to go, that she might be as remote as possible from a place, where so cruel an adventure had befallen her. I omit to repeat to you, Madam, the Princesses discourse to Hortensius upon the way, and at her arrival at the place where she was to repose: for I have so many other things to tell you, that I ought not to trouble you with circumstances of no impor∣tance; and moreover, you may easily imagine, what a grateful Princess, and of much wit, might say in this occurrent, and what might be answer'd by a modest Cavalier, who still believ'd he had re∣ceiv'd more than he had return'd. But I shall tell you that Hortensius, who was ingenious, sought occasion to be instructed of the state of the Court whither he was going, to the end he might deport himself there with more prudence. The late acci∣dent encreased his curiosity much more; and there∣fore having contracted friendship with two persons of quality, who accompanied this Princess, espe∣cially with one, who was called Eumenes, and possess'd both Virtue and Wit, he began one even∣ing a private Converse with him in this manner: Generous Eumenes, (said he, after several pro∣testations of friendship) I beseech you, please to instruct an unhappy stranger, who already looks upon Messena as his Countrey, since he can hope to gain such a friend there as you. Being you are a person of much merit (answer'd Eumenes) I shall be very ready to inform you with sincerity; for the Court you are going to, is much more hard to be well understood, than you imagine; and the War in which the Prince Melanthus is engag'd, more troublesome than you may at present conceive it: And therefore perhaps it will not be unprofita∣ble to you to grant you what you request. But is it not the War (said Hortensius) which the Prince of Messena is engag'd in against Elis, which is a Countrey of no great extent? Yes, answer'd Eu∣menes, but for that 'tis a Countrey consecrated to the gods, the design of usurping it seems criminal to almost all the Republicks of Greece, and especi∣ally to those of Peloponnesus, as you may know, because you liv'd a while at Corinth. I know it well (replyed Hortensius) having not been so long at Corinth, without hearing people speak of Elis, Pisa, and the famous Temple of Olympia, and knowing all the priviledges of that Countrey, which was consecrated to the gods, after the antient War of the Heraclidae.

I believe indeed (interpos'd Plotina pleasantly) Hortensius knew all this; but being Valeria, Cesonia, and my self knew nothing at all thereof, I beseech you make not so much speed, but tell us all you know of Elis, Pisa, and Olympia; for the confu∣sed talk I have heard of them, makes me desirous to be better inform'd, especially, since I know it is the Countrey of Elismonda. Valeria and Cesonia testifying they had the same desires with Plotina, Merigenes, resum'd his discourse in these terms.

That which you would know, Madam, is un∣doubtedly worthy of your knowledge; and, to speak truly, almost as necessary to be known by you; for understanding the sequel of this History, as it was profitable to be known by Hortensius, in order to his being benefited by the counsels of Eu∣menes. Nevertheless I shall omit to relate to you all which tradition tells us, concerning the origi∣nal of those Nations. For the Messenians them∣selves say, they were the Subjects of Menelaus, son of Atreus, and brother of Agamemnon, King of Sparta; that afterwards the Nephews of Helle were their Masters; and since, a Prince of Cyparissa, cal∣led Melanthus, drove out those which reign'd, and made himself Sovereign of the Countrey, whose successors ever since have rul'd in Messenia. For the Prince of Messenia, brother of the Princess An∣dronice, is named Melanthus, as he was from whom he pretends to be descended; and he might reign peaceably, did not ambition excite him to rush in∣to the War he is engag'd in, For he might well e∣nough have been contented with the Countrey of Messena, being so good and pleasant, that only La∣conia is comparable to it: it is neither too cold in Winter, nor too hot in Summer; and the River Pamisus, which hastens rapidly to unite with the Sea, cuts so commodiously thorough the middle of it, that all the Inhabitants of the Countrey par∣take in the benefits which the River brings. This Territory is bounded on one side with the Sea, and on the other is environ'd with Laconia, Arcadia, and a small corner of Land called Triphilia, scited between Pisa and Messenia. But, Madam, because it is more important for you to be inform'd of the Countrey which the Prince Melanthus designed to usurp, than that of his own, I must be a little more large in describing to you the Principality of Elis, than I have been in that of Messenia. Elis, the principal City, and from whence the whole Province is denominated, is, notwithstand∣ing, none of the most antient of Peloponnesus, for it was not in being in the daies of Homer; yet it is so famous for a hundred other respects, (as also are Pisa and Olympia, which lie very near together) that there is none more. As for the Princes of Pisa, they were heretofore very powerful; Oene∣maus and Pelops his successor, who were Soveraigns thereof, are known throughout all the world for their glorious adventures. But I am not willing to trouble you with a long rehearsal of those anti∣ent Wars, which caus'd confusion in all Greece, and principally in Peloponnesus; I shall only unfold matters past so far, as may suffice to shew you the rise of those extraordinary priviledges, which the Countreys of Elis, Pisa, and Olympia have enjoy∣ed for so many ages. You must know then, that after a long War of the Heraclidae, who had the Aesolians on their side, against the Epeians; Pyrec∣menus of Aesolia; who was General of the Hera∣clidae, propos'd to the Commander of the enemies, whose name was Degmenus, that they might con∣clude their differences by a single and decisive com∣bate, in the sight of their Armies. Which being accepted and resolv'd on, the day and place was appointed; the Troops were drawn up in battalia on both sides, and the Combat was performed by Perecmenus, General of the Heraclidae, and Deg∣menus of the Epeians. This last came to the En∣counter with no other Arms than his Bow and Arrows, but the first brought a Sling and Stones; for they had not agreed what weapons they would use. But at last Pyrecmenus kill'd his enemy, and therefore determin'd to possess himself of the Countrey in controversie between them, and drive out all the Elaeans from Elis. But because the vanquisht pretended dissatisfaction of the victory of Pyrecmenus, in regard of the inequality of their Arms, the neighbouring people interposing them∣selves to accommode the matter, found out an expedient to do it, which was accepted with joy by both parties. The proposal was, That the Te∣ritory which they made War for, might be conse∣crated to the gods: And accordingly by the con∣sent of both parties, and of all the neighboring people of Elis, Pisa, and Olympia, all this lovely Countrey, and particularly the City of Elis, was consecrated to Jupiter. But the better to signifie that it was under the protection of the gods, and needed not to be defended by men, it was resolved that it should never be wall'd about, and a decla∣ration made, that whoever attempted to take it, should be held for a sacrilegious person; and in case it happened the Elaeans were oblig'd to give passage to any Forces of the neighboring Regions, they should not go through this of Elis, with their Arms in their hands; but on the contrary, as soon as such Troops should come to the frontier of this Countrey, they should lay aside their Arms which the Elaeans should transport for them in Car∣riages, and not render the same till they were ar∣riv'd to the confines of their small State. On these conditions, Pyrecmenus was invested in the Sove∣reignty of the Countrey, and took care of the Temple of Jupiter, with consent of all the adja∣cent States, who engag'd themselves by oath, ne∣ver to violate the priviledges accorded to Elis. They report also, that at this time divers ceremo∣nies in the Olympick Games were renew'd, and that thence-forward the people of Elis became rich and happy; for while their neighbors were at war, they enjoy'd a profound peace, and enricht themselves by others infelicities; so that they might have been judg'd the most happy people of all Greece, for their Countrey is the most sweet and pleasant that can be imagin'd. Two Rivers there are which extreamly imbellish it; one called Peneus, as well as that of Tempe, in the source of which, there is one thing very remarkable; for near the City of Megalopolis there are two Springs, each of which produce a River; the Peneus I speak of is one, and the River Eurotas the other. But after these two Rivers have pass'd for some space, with∣out being much separated, they both hide them∣selves under the earth, where finding out waies unknown to men, the one issues forth again in La∣conia, and the other in Elis. But besides the River Peneus which passes through the fair City of Elis, there is the River Alpheus, which coming out of Arcadia, passeth near Pisa and Olympia, on whose Banks the Olympick Games are celebrated, which are assuredly the most magnificent sports of all Greece. This great Festival is celebrated in a Wood of wild Olives, about three hundred furlongs from Elis. But this River which comes from Arcadia, and opens into the Sea towards the West, on the side of Sicily, and which is so known over all the World, for the love they say he bears to Arethusa, whom he hastens to find in the Island of Ortygis,

without mingling his waters with those of the Sea, is not only pleasant but commodious; for being swelled up by a very great number of other Rivers, of which the most considerable are Enipeus, Celadon, and Erimanthus, it bears very great ves∣sels, which serve for the commerce of the Coun∣trey; which is so much the more pleasant, in that all the region which is inclos'd between Achaia, Arcadia, and Messena, is beset with a great num∣ber of small Temples, dedicated to Diana, Venus, and the Nymphs, in little Woods of Myrtle, all over embellish'd with Flowers, and irrigated with Springs and Rivulets. Almost all the great Roads have Temples dedicated to Mercury, and by the Sea-shore are seen many consecrated to Neptune. There is one also dedicated to Pallas, which is not very far distant from Olympia, near to which is the Mountain of Philaceus, which seems to separate Arcadia, and the Countrey of Elis; for the foot of it reaches near to Pisa. As for the Temple of Jupiter, being I shall have occasion to speek of it in another place of my story, I shall not now stay to do it, but tell you, to return where I was, that the Elaeaus after a long enjoyment of the priviledges which had been granted them, were twice inva∣ded, but always to the disadvantage of those who made war upon them. For a Son of the Prince of the Messenians, named Melanthus, whose Mo∣ther was of the race of that Degmenus who was overcome, designing to renew that antient War, undertook the same to his own destruction; and another going about to attempt the like was as un∣fortunate as he. But to return at length to the discourse of Eumenes, with Hortensius; You shall know (said he) that the present Prince of the Messenians, brother of the Princess Andronice, be∣ing born with an ambition, which will never suf∣fer him to live in quiet, though he should have conquer'd all Greece, has believ'd he shall be more happy than his forefathers, and that he could not find a more favourable time to invade the Coun∣trey of Elis than this, wherein he is peaceful ma∣ster of his own State. The Prince his Father, who dy'd two years since, left him excessively rich, whereby he is sufficiently provided of Forces, Ships, and Ammunition for the design. He is young, gallant, sprightly, of a daring courage; and had he but something more humanity, and a little better conduct to manage the advantages which nature hath given him, he would be a ve∣ry great Prince. But he hath defects so apparent to all the world, that it is not easie to determine what rank to give him. That which encourag'd him to undertake the War, was the great age of the Prince of Elis; who besides, had but one daughter, which is the Princess Elismonda, and having pass'd his whole life in peace, might be thought unfit to bear up against a War. And a greater inducement to undertake the same was, that a Prince under his dominions, a very gallant Person, and stiled the Prince of Cyparissa, having been ex∣il'd by the late Prince of Messena, was retir'd to the Prince of Elis, and according to report, was very favourably entertain'd by him. Whence, upon a jealousie that he might marry Elismonda, and a scorn that one of his subjects should be his neighbor, his equal, and his allie, he resolv'd to denounce war against the Prince of Elis: which he did with the greater confidence, for that all the States of Peloponnesus being at that time accustomed to peace, he did not fear lest they would trouble their own quiet to intermeddle in the affairs of another, though the priviledges of Elis requir'd all the neighboring Provinces to take Arms for its defence. And thus he accordingly took up a resolution to make the War. The Princess his Sister, who is admirably prudent above the custom of her years, did all she could, out of a sentiment of piety, to a∣vert him from invading a Countrey so particularly under the protection of the gods. But he smi∣lingly answering her, that in Homer the gods took sides as well as men, and therefore he hop'd he should not be abandon'd by all the Deities, fol∣low'd his design, and took no other care but to accomplish it happily. About that time Attalus, whom you lately fought with, and who is a person of the highest quality in Messena, became very amorous of Andronice. And believing if he serv'd the Prince Melanthus bravely in the War, he might more easily obtain his sister, he did his utmost to signize his zeal and his courage before him; which much afflicted Andronice, who had ever such an aversion against Attalus, as virtuous persons could not disapprove: for though Attalus wants no he∣raldry, nor courage, nor magnificence, nor wit, yet he is very odious because he hath neither good∣ness nor generosity. But to hasten to tell what you are desirous to know: The Prince of Messena be∣gan the War, upon colour of that antient quarrel I mention'd to you before; for you know, Policy will never suffer the ambitious to want pretences. At first the Prince of Elis, who desir'd only to dye in peace, and saw himself unfurnisht of requisites to maintain a War, because a rich and unmarshall'd people is fit only to be conquer'd, us'd all possible means to enter into Treaty with the Prince of Messena, and sent him word, that he would have offer'd him the Princess his daughter in marriage, if the Laws of Elis would have permitted him to give her to a Prince who is Soveraign of another State, or one who is not able to circumscribe his ambition within the bounds of Elis. The Prince of Cyparissa us'd all possible perswasions to hinder the Father of the fair Elismonda from making pro∣positions of peace so advantageous to his enemy. But this virtuous Prince being already sensible of the approaches of death, and knowing that he could not longer practise any other virtues but those of peace, omitted nothing he believ'd con∣ducive to avert the War. But all his endeavors prov'd fruitless; for Melanthus made no longer negotiation about peace, than serv'd to amuse him, whilst he was preparing for the War. Where∣upon, the Prince of Elis perceiving no means of bringing his enemy to reason, provided for his de∣fence, with all diligence the weakness of his age was capable of. The Prince of Cyparissa omitted nothing for his part, which lay in his power to do in behalf of a Prince, who had given him Sanctu∣ary in his Court, and to which the love he had for Elismonda, whom he passionately serv'd, oblig'd him, though he had hitherto preserv'd his affecti∣on undiscover'd to her in his own breast. The Prince of Elis sent to the adjacent States to sum∣mon them to defend Elis, in accomplishment of the Engagements their Ancestors had made to do so. But whilst all those Nations had the matter un∣der deliberation, Melanthus enters into Elis in the

head of a considerable Army: whereby the Eleans saw themselves invaded, and unprovided for such an invasion, and altogether succorless. Yet the zeal of their Countrey effecting that in them, which use and skill in War does in others, they defended themselves better than was believ'd, and the Prince of Elis, notwithstanding his age, put himself in the head of his Army, and fought in person. He had the advantage of his enemies at the first en∣counter of their forces, and beat them back; but at the second, this prudent Prince was constrain'd to retire into Elis, to endeavour to put the young Princess his daughter into the Castle of Pisa (for he had lost the Princess his wife a while before) be∣lieving Elismonda would be there in greater safety. For this purpose he left the Prince of Cyparissu with his Troops, to give stop to the enemy, whilst he made his retreat, and took order to put Olympia into a condition of being defended. But this Prince being old, and of a crazy health, upon his arrival to Elis, he fell into an extream sickness, which within two days, ended his Life and Reign. Du∣ring which, the young Elismonda, preferring being present with a dying Father, before providing for her own security, continu'd with him till he ex∣pir'd; and afterwards this fair and generous Prin∣cess, being unwilling to leave the body of her Fa∣ther to the power of the Enemies (who approach'd nearer Elis every day, notwithstanding the vali∣ant resistance of the Prince of Cyrarissa) caus'd it to to be plac'd in a Chariot, and taking another for her self and a Lady of high quality, and great virtue, she left a City destitute of Walls, and took the way towards Pisa. But as it fell out un∣happily for her, Melanthus who had his spies in Elis, being inform'd of her departure, and of the death of the Prince of Elis, dispatcht Attalus with a body of horse to go and surprise her in the way: who march'd with such diligence that he overtook this young Princess before she could reach to Pisa: When being destitute of a Convoy to resist him, she saw her self abandon'd by all her atten∣dants, and constrain'd to remain in her Chariot with the Lady which accompanied her, and that with the cruel necessity of beholding the fierce Attalus not only become master of her liberty, but also inhumanely commanding the body of the Prince of Elis, to be cast into the River Alpheus which ran hard by, to the end the sight of that dead Prince might not excite valour in the heart of the people by exciting compassion in them towards the Conquer'd and hatred against the Conquerors. The young Princess of Elis hearing this cruel com∣mand, made the most passionate Treaties to him in the world, and accompany'd her words with such a floud of tears, that she obtain'd at length, that the body of the Prince her Father, should be plac'd in a little Temple, not above six or seven furlongs distant from the place where they were, and order given to him that took care of it, to per∣form the last offices to that virtuous Prince. This done, Attalus put himself upon his march to con∣duct Elismonda towards the Army of the Prince of Messena: but upon the wav he heard there had been a fight, that the Prince of Cyparissa had had the worst, having understood of the death of the Prince of Elis, and the departure of Elismonda, who had sent to advertise him of it, he thought himself to retire to the same place whither the Prin∣cess was gone, judging it necessary to abandon the City of Elis, and only provide to defend himself in Pisa. And moreover, that Love inciting this Prince to go where Elismonda was he had not de∣murr'd what he ought to do, but took way, in which it would be difficult for the Prince of Mes∣sena to force him to fight, by reason there were many streights in it; and having pass'd the first before, that Prince perceiv'd his retreat, there was no likelyhood he could follow him. Attalus also un∣derstood that Melanthus intending to possess him∣self of Elis, for the glory of his victory, had fac'd the City, the inhabitants of which having lately lost their Prince, seen the flight of the young Prin∣cess, and learnt the defeat of the Prince of Cyparissa, believ'd it the best course to surrender to the Con∣queror, and so hinder their City from being pilla∣ged. And accordingly they sent Commissioners to Melanthus, who promis'd them all they desir'd; but kept his promise not over-carefully; for they were very evilly and barbarously treated. This in∣telligence caus'd Attalus to change his course, to the end he might not meet with the Troops of the Prince of Cyparissa, but rather go directly where the Prince of Messena was. Yet he would not car∣ry Elismonda into the City of Elis, without first knowing the pleasure of Melanthus. Wherefore he stay'd four furlongs off from the City, to expect the return of one of his followers whom he sent to him for that purpose. But this Prince having by promising the inhabitants of Elis to use them civil∣ly, oblig'd them to deliver a Castle into his hands, which nature alone had impregnably fortifi'd, situ∣ate about fifteen furlongs from Elis, he sent order to Attalus to conduct the Princess thither, and to place as many men in the Castle, as was requisite to guard her safely. Attalus accordingly carried her to this Castle, together with that Lady of qua∣lity I told you she had chosen, and four women to attend on her, sending all the rest into Elis, and go∣ing thither also himself soon after, to give Melan∣thus an account of what had pass'd. Where after awhile, Attalus being a violent man, and the Prince of Messena not being able to endure any to resist him, at the Council of War that was held, the judgement of Attalus being opposite to that of Melanthus, each of both maintain'd his own with very great stiffness and pertinacy. The opinion of Melanthus was, That it was not fit to give the Prince of Cyparissa leasure to fortfie himself in Pisa, and make use of the name of the Princess Elismon∣da to continue the War; but that it were requisite to go and set upon him without losing time. Atta∣lus on the other side judg'd it necessary to put Elis into defence before going to expose his forces to a new battel with the Prince of Cyparissa, who was too magnanimous to suffer himself to be inclos'd in Pisa, without having once again experienc'd the fortune of War: That his forces would be recruit∣ed by the Inhabitants of Pisa and Olympia; and in case it should happen the Prince of Messena had the worst, he would find that his enterprise was no ad∣vantage to him; whereas on the contrary, when he once had fortifi'd Elis, which was easily put into de∣fence, in case he should be worsted in the battel; he would still be master of the City which gives name to the Countrey he intended to conquer. Attalus, according to his violent humour and boldness, ha∣ving express'd all these reasons, added some ambi∣guous

words, which being subject to be constru∣ed in a manner injurious to Melanthus, offended this Prince so highly, that being transported with choler, Hold thy peace Attalus, (said he to him) and since you are already so weary of fighting, that you have need of rest, go and take your rest at home, and depart this very day. Whereupon Attalus, who believed Melanthus very much obli∣ged to him for having taken Elismonda, answered yet more insolently than before; which farther in∣censing Melanthus, he broke up the Council, and commanded Attalus to depart forthwith out of Elis. Who being a person much hated, there was none that interceded to make his peace; and so he went away without being observed out of the City. And it was not then known to any what was become of him; but when the Princess An∣dronice took her journey to accomplish the vow she had made to go and offer a sacrifice to Apollo, in the same place where they report Daphne was heretofore Metamorphos'd into a Laurel, there was spread a rumor at Messenia, that he had put himself into Pisa, towards which, the Prince Me∣lanthus was upon the way at the time we left Mes∣senia, to go to Tempe. But now (continued Eu∣menes to Hortensius) you have seen that that report was false, since had it not been for your valor, he had carried away Andronice, as well out of re∣venge as love. But lastly, generous Hortensius, re∣member I conjure you, when you come to be with Melanthus, that I have told you this day, that he is a Prince with whom 'tis the most difficult thing in the world to be in favor long together; because he is naturally distrustful, and easily sus∣pects another of all things which he has the pow∣er to commit. As for the Princess Andronice, I have nothing but honorable to say of her, and I am so strongly linked to her interests, that I exhort you as much as I can to endeavor to ingratiate your self with the Prince her Brother, to the end you may be able sometimes to moderate part of the im∣petuousness of his humor. I know he is a lover of novelty, that you are a person fit to please him, and the action you have lately done against Attalus, will soon bring you into a condition of becoming his favorite if you please, and therefore I conjure you not to resist it, unless your affairs call you else∣where, but to ingage your self in the interests of the Princess Andronice. I must be the vilest of men, (an∣swered Hortensius) if I could separate my self from them; but I beseech you, generous Eumenes, (added he) make me a promise that you will al∣ways assist me with your counsels of which I ap∣prehend I shall have very great need. While they were in this discourse, it was told them that there was one newly arrived, sent from the Prince of Messenia to the Princess, who brought her news which very much afflicted her. This caused them to go immediately to wait upon her, who told them Melanthus had sent some to meet her in the way she was to pass, and give her notice that she should not go by the ordinary way, when she came to the Frontier, because having been disadvanta∣ged in two Battels as he advanced towards Pisa, he was enforced to make speed to a place of secu∣rity near Elis, till new forces were levyed for him in Messenia. Hortensius had no sooner heard what the Princess told Eumenes and him, but he conjur'd her she would please to make hast to depart thence, that so having first conducted her to Messenia, he might go offer his Sword to the Prince of Melan∣thus. Andronice, who was before resolved upon that which Hortensius requested, and be∣lieved she could not too speedily go as far as pos∣sible from a place, where she was in danger to have been carried away, though she were already at a good distance from it, disposed all things to set forward immediately. But, in brief, Madam, not to mispend your patience, with exact relation of the way the Princess took, it suffices that you know Eumenes, who was no Stranger in the Coun∣trey, conducted her so happily, that she arrived at Messene, without having met any Troops of the Prince of Cyparissa, or incurred any dangerous adventure. As soon as she was there, Hortensius and Eumenes took leave of her, to go to the Army of Melanthus. But though Andronice gave charge to Eumenes to represent handsomly to the Prince her Brother, the obligation she had to Hortensius, yet she omitted not to give this generous Veientine, a Letter to the Prince of Messenia, which ran al∣most in these terms.

The Princess Andronice, to the Prince Melanthus.

WHen you understand that this generous Stranger who delivers you my Letter, rescued me from being carried away by the pre∣cipitous Attalus, and that his valor revenged you of the insolence of that ingrateful Subject, I assure my self you will receive him accord∣ing to the greatness of his merit. For which reason I am not importunate with you to do so; the intention of my writing being only to tell, that I shall have an interest in all the favors which my Deliverer shall receive from you, and that if the Prayers I have made to the Gods for the prosperity of your Arms be heard, the Victory which you shall gain, will soon end the War, and speedily return you to Messene, where you are passionately desired by

ANDRONICE

Hortensius, received this Letter from the hands of Andronice, for whom he had a very high re∣spect, very great admiration, and much gratitude and tenderness without any mixture of Love, An∣dronice on the other side esteemed him infinitely, and felt in her heart a great inclination to prefer him above all the friends she had ever had to that time not excepting Eumenes, to whom notwithstanding she bare a very sincere friendship. So that the parting of Andronice and Hortensius was with as much kindness as if their friendship had been of a far elder date: The Countrey of Messenia, being of no great extent, and only a little corner of earth between it and that of Elis, named Triphylia, by reason it was sometimes inhabited by three different sort of people, before it was united to Elis. Hortensius and Eumenes were soon at the Camp of Melanthus; and they arrived there so happily to be well received, that Hortensius and Eumenes presented themselves before the Prince of Messenia, and the former delivered him the Letter of the Princess Andronice, just as he was coming

forth of the Council of War, where it had been resolved to fight the enemy the next morning, or force him to quit the Pass which he possessed. for the fresh Troops of Messenia had been joined to the Army of Melanthus, two days ago. Hor∣tensius having a noble aspect, and magnificent garb, his presence easily confirmed the commendations which the Letter of the Princess Andronice, and Eumenes expressed of him. For Melanthus, after having read what the Princess his Sister had writ to him, and heard what Eumenes said to the ad∣vantage of Hortensius; This generous Stranger (said he, turning to Eumenes, and pointing to∣wards Hortensius) could not arrive more opportune∣ly for his own glory, and the benefit of my occa∣sions, since I shall soon give him place to signalize his valor against a more worthy enemy than the in∣solent Attalus. Hortensius answered to this dis∣course with all the honorable confidence becoming a brave man, and together with all the modesty becoming an intelligent and discreet person. After which, Meleanthus taking him aside from the Mul∣titude lead him into a Garden which was behind the Castle, wherein the young Prince of Elis was guarded, for it being seated just in the middle of the several quarters of his Army, he made choice of it as most convenient to assemble a Council of War, in though he returned back again at night to Elis. But he had not as yet seen Elismonda nor had any intention to see her at that time; besides that, this fair Captive having been sick ever since she came into his power, he thought not fit to give her the trouble of receiving a visit from him, though indeed naturally he had not so much humanity as a great Prince ought to have. For it was a kind of cruelty to hold a Council of War in the place where this fair Princess was, and to bring as it were before her eyes such a multitude destinated to the ruine of her Countrey. And this was really a strange augmentation of her sorrow; for as I understood afterwards from the mouth of that Lady of quality who was then with her, and whose name was Cle∣ontine, Elismonda stood at a window looking di∣rectly upon the bridge of a Castle, at the time when Eumenes and Hortensius arrived there. So that both of them seeming of a noble aspect, and Hortensius, very richly cloathed, when Elismonda saw Eumenes present himself to Melanthus, who was in the Court of the Castle at their addressing to him, she judg'd it was some stranger that came to serve the Prince of Messenia. Alas! Cleontine (said she sighing) behold here for certain new ene∣mies come against me, who have the appearance of brave men, and consequently give me terror enough to make me hate them. You are too just (answered Cleontine, who was a very discreet per∣son and handsome enough, though past the glory of her first youth) to hate people which you know not, and they you as little. But Cleontine, (said Elismonda) do not these people know at least, though I am as unknown to them as they to me, that Melanthus makes an unjust War? and if they be not his Subjects, why do they not go and put themselves into the Army of the Prince of Cyparissa, who defends an unfortunate Princess unjustly op∣prest? Perhaps, Madam, (answered Cleontine they which you see are subjects to Melanthus; and if so, they may with Justice partake in an unjust side: for in my opinion, it is not lawful for subjects to dispence with themselves from going to the War when their Prince is there, though they be per∣swaded he has the wrong cause. For I remember I had a Father who sometimes discoursed thus to a Brother of mine, when he enjoyned him to be al∣ways faithful to his Prince. Ah! Cleontine (replyed Elismonda,) one of those two persons there is none of Melanthus's subject, and therefore you ought at least allow me to hate him. In saying which, she pointed to Hortensius, whom the Prince of Messe∣nia had taken apart from the rest which environ∣ed him, to lead him into the Garden I spoke of, towards which also Elismonda had grated windows jetting forth. But Madam, (said Cleontine, who only endeavored to amuse her,) He whom you would hate, is the man of the more noble ayr and gallant personage. That's it I hate him for, (answered she) for had I not a good opinion of him, I should wish less ill to him. But alass! (con∣tinued she sighing) I am my self very unjust; for since the Gods seem to abandon the protection of a Countrey which is consecrated to them, ought I to wonder that men should be against me? ought I not rather to think it the Will of Heaven that I should be infortunate, and though apparently born to be happy, become the most miserable Princess in the World? for in brief, I have lost a Father who lov'd me tenderly; my Subjects look upon me al∣most as a Child, and since they are comforted after the death of the Prince my Father, they will as∣suredly make peace with the Usurper. So that my dear Cleontine, there is only the Prince of Cypa∣rissa, who upholds my interests; though he does it not for my sake only, for he is banisht out of his own Countrey, and could not be better elsewhere. But Madam (answered Cleontine) you know it as well as I, that the Prince of Cyparissa loves you, though he has not yet discovered himself to you. I know it but too well (replyed Elismonda) and this is it, which renders me compleatly unhappy. For if he happen to be overcome, I shall remain prisoner to Melanthus, and if he be Conqueror, how shall I be able to give check to his pretensions? But Madam (said Cleontine) the Prince of Cypa∣rissa is excellently shap'd, a man of courage, spirit, and birth, and if he should restore Elis, Pisa, and Olympia to you, and drive back Melanthus into his own Countrey, and put you in a condition of seeing peaceably the next Olympick Games that shall be celebrated, I conceive you would have no reason to complain of fortune, though you should be obliged to marry him. I confess you have cause to speak as you do (answered Elismonda) but yet I am not to be blam'd for saying what I do; for to discover to you the bottom of my heart, to this hour I never saw a person I could be inclinable to marry without some strange kind of regret. I know I am of a quality in which such persons are not wont to choose; but this is it which troubles me, and perhaps renders the Prince of Cyparissa, less acceptable unto me. Yet I esteem him very highly, and had I a brother, I should not be dis∣pleas'd if he were perfectly such a person as he; but in the mean time should I be one day constrain∣ed to marry him out of gratitude; I should be all my life unhappy, and should have so much greater cause to complain in that I should 〈◊〉〈◊〉 an unhap∣piness of which I should never compl••in•• not even to you, my dear Cleontine. For in short, should my

destiny bring this to pass, I forbid you from thence∣forth to mention it to me as long as you live Thus you see, Madam, in what temper Elismonda's mind was, whilst Melanthus was entertaining Hor∣tensius with several matters. He constrained him, notwithstanding his modesty to relate to him the particular passages of his encounter with Attalus, so hereby, as Eumenes knew full well, that which he foretold Hortensius, did not fail to come to pass, to wit, his infinitely pleasing the Prince of Messenia, who made him an hundred obliging cares∣ses, and to begin the testification of his gratitude, for having hindred his sister from being carried away by a man he hated, he gave him a very rich Sword, which he hath to this day, entreating him to serve himself of it, in hope it would prove more happy in his hands than it had done in his own. After which, Melanthus mounted on horse∣back went from quarter to quarter, being follow∣ed with many Officers, and Hortensius and Eumenes, to give in person all orders necessary, to the end they might be better obeyed. But the morning following, Melanthus drew forth his forces out of their Entrenchments a little before day, and march∣ing directly towards the Enemies, he set upon them a little before the Sun began to shew his first rayes. Were I to make this recital only to martial men, and had not a great number of things to tell you, in which Love has a greater share than War; I should describe to you all the particulari∣ties of a battel wherein victory many times chang∣ed sides, wherein death appeared in every rank, and valor was almost equally eminent in the over∣come and the Conquerors, wherein the Prince of Cyparissa had Melanthus twice in his power, and wherein Hortensius with incredible valor gave him twice his liberty and once his life, and lastly where∣in victory by the sole courage of Hortensius decla∣red her self for Melanthus, and forced the Prince of Cyparissa (as courageous as he is) to quit the place and retreat in disorder. For had not the young Hortensius rallied those that fled the last time he rescued Melanthus out of the hands of those which had taken him, and cryed aloud from rank to rank that Meleanthus was alive and free, the party of the Messenians had been destroyed, and this field alone had restored Elismonda to liber∣ty, given her the Soveraign power, and brought her to hearken more favorably to the Prince of Cyparissa. But fortune disposed the event other∣wise, and intended Hortensius, who two days be∣fore was unknown to the Prince of Messenia, should become his favorite, the next after this battel. For owing to him both the liberty of Andronice and his own, and moreover his life and victory, and the revenge of Attalus, he thought no measure ought to be observed in the favors which he design∣ed him; so that he omitted no imaginable oblige∣ments towards him. He was pleased he should lodge in his Palace at Elis, and in one of his Tents in the Army. He gave him a magnificent train, made him one of his Council of War, and orde∣red there should be two Lieutenant Generals in his Army, to the end he might be one of them. So that from this day forward, Hortensius found he had a Court as well as the Prince, and he was become of high note in a place wherein he thought he should have been unknown. Eumenes, who saw Fortune, and the humor of the Prince had ren∣dred his predictions true, was privately familiar with Hortensius, who being truly generous, was more solicitous of living happily with Eumenes in his rising favor than before. But when he re∣membred this generous friend had told him it was very difficult to keep in long with Melanthus, he looked upon the divers degrees of honor, to which he had rais'd him, as possible to lead him to a place from whence he might be cast down headlong, so that not knowing whether or no he ought to re∣joyce for them, he received all the favors of the Prince of Messenia with so great moderation, that he was infinitely more esteemed for them and less envyed. In the mean while this happy success of Melanthus's Arms began to shake the fidelity of part of Elismonda's Subjects, both in Elis, Pisa, Olympia, and all the other Cities of that Territory. On the other side, the Prince of Cyparissa, who was advertised of it, conceived a strange sorrow for this deplorable case; for all the sentiments which are able to excite valor in the heart of a generous man, were in his. He had ambition and love for Elismonda, and hatred for Melanthus. Whereby being carried on by such violent passions, he forgat nothing of all that he believed conducive to the design he had to satisfie them, and continu∣ally contrived in his mind how to effect the same. At the same time Melanthus, by the Counsel of Hortensius and Eumenes, wholly changed his man∣ner of acting with the Inhabitants of Elis, treating them now as gently as he had done before severely; he straightly commanded all his Troops to live or∣derly in Compagne, he caused reverence to be shewn to the Temples, and sharply punisht those of his Souldiers, who committed any insolent acti∣on, and lastly he put forth a Manifesto, wherein his Injustice was handsomly coloured over, and wherein he gave hopes of all sorts of felicity to those who would acknowledge his Power. All which things joyned together, made some impressi∣on upon the minds of the people. It hapned also that the Princess Elismonda fell extreamly sick at the same time, and Hortensius obliged Melanthus to have a great care of her. Who thereupon sent his Physitians to her, and yielded so exactly to what∣soever Hortensius counsell'd, that though this change was ascribed to the virtue of Hortensius, yet it also begat some favorable inclination for Me∣lanthus. The Prince of Cyparissa understanding all these things, having first left his Army in a Pass where it was hard to be attaqued, went to Pisa to endeavor to confirm the minds of the Citi∣zens, and sought continually how to oppose his Enemies as well by Prudence as by Valor; to which purpose he thought it requisite to endeavor to excite compassion in the breasts of the people, and even in those of the Souldiers towards the young Prince of Elis. But as an amorous man easily imagins that all others are taken with that which affects him, he bethought himself of a course of which never any other but a Lover could have had the apprehension. You may please to know, Madam, that the late Prince of Elis who bore an extream tenderness towards the young Elismonda, and was willing to gain the hearts of his Subjects to her, caused her Picture to be drawn by the skilful Agerontus of Corinth, whom he sent for on purpose, and had given her pourtraiture to almost all the persons of quality in his principali∣ty.

He also caused the same to be placed in all the apartments of a very stately Castle which is at Pisa. Now the Prince of Cyparissa having first publisht a Manifesto also in answer to that of the Prince of Messenia, caused to be made secretly in fifteen days, the greatest number he could of Co∣pies of this excellent Princess's Pourtrait, both in little, and in the full proportion After which, by some intelligence which he had in Elis, and even in the Army of Melanthus, by reason of be∣ing born his Subject, he contrived that several pourtraitures of Elismonda being hidden in great baskets of fruit, Soldiers in the disguise of simple Gardiners, should carry the same to Elis, and to the Camp of the Prince of Messenia, and deliver them to those with whom he had intelligence, together with several Copies of the Manifesto which he had set forth. He also sent some to Olympia, and gave order the same thing should be done at Pisa, which he caused to be done in the places I now mentioned. So that having been suc∣cesful in his design and served with fidelity, one morning there was found both in Pisa and Olym∣pia, and in Melanthus's Army, and in Elis, and even at the Gate of the Palace wherein the Prince of Messenia lodg'd, several Pictures of Elismonda. She was drawn in a Mourning habit, (for I forgot to tell you that the Prince of Cyparissa amongst all the pictures of Elismonda which he found at Pisa, had chosen one to be an Original for the Copies, which had been drawn upon the death of the Princess her Mother) and besides she being fair and bright hair'd, and mourning best becoming her, it was thought fittest to draw her in that dress. Which was also otherwise sutable to her present condition, and consequently the Prince of Cyparissa believed this Picture would be more pro∣per than any other to incite compassion in the hearts of those that should behold it. Besides, she having been sad the day on which it was taken, the pour∣trait had a kind of lovely dejectedness in it, which seemed to implore assistance from those which be∣held it, for her that was represented by it. So that they were extreamly surprised, both in the Army of Melanthus and at Elis, upon seeing this extraordinary adventure. For some of these pictures were laid at the Gate of the principal Temples, some in the publick Piazza's, and most noted streets, and as I said before, at the Gate of Melanthus's Palace. A thing yet more remark∣able was, that the Prince of Cyparissa had caused several things to be written at the bottom of these pictures, according to the divers places wherein they were to be layd. For under that which was found at the Palace Gate where Melanthus lodged, there were only these words;

Melanthus, behold her against whom you make War, and if you are wise, fear lest the Gods avenge her cause, and you repent of your injustice.

Under those which were taken up in the Piazza's of Elis, it seemed as if the Princess spoke to the people, in these words only;

Is it possible unjust Subjects, that you can endure an Usurper in a City consecrated to the Gods?

Those which were at the Gates of the Temples were underwritten as follows (as if Elismonda had spoken to the Gods adored there.)

Since Men abandon me, I implore of you a Sanctuary against your own enemies.

Those which were in the principal Streets, had these words;

Disloyal Subjects, can you have the heart to forsake me?

And for them which were dispersed in the Camp of Melanthus, they contained no more but this;

Valiant Soldiers, consider whether it will be any great glory to you to overcome a Prin∣cess, who hath nothing but tears wherewith to resist you.

But for them which were carried to Pisa and Olympia, I do not distinctly remember what was writ under them; but I know this invention which Love put into the mind of the Prince of Cyparissa, had many extraordinary and different successes, and that by a priviledge of beauty the Picture of Elis∣monda found respect in the minds of the least faith∣ful of her subjects, and in those of the most inso∣lent Soldiers. But that which deserves more Re∣marke was, that Melanthus, who rose very early in the morning to go to the Camp, having been advertised there were several Pictures of Elismonda in divers places of the City, and one also at the Gate of his Palace, commanded it should be brought to him. He had heard reports of Elismonda's beauty, but had never as yet seen her; and the furniture and ornaments of the Palace where he lodged, having been removed from thence when there was a necessity of surrendring up the City, there was not left as much as one of Elismonda's pictures in it. Besides, his heart was so wholly taken up with ambition, that he never inquired much whether the Princess were fair or no. Hence it was that he became extreamly surprised, when he beheld the picture of Elismonda. Hortensius and Eumenes were both present at that time, and were also charmed at the sight; for there being but few Beauties of fair complexion in Greece, this of the young Princess caused in them the greater admi∣ration. Melanthus without staying first to peruse the Manifesto of the Prince of Cyparissa, which was brought him at the same time, beheld this picture very attentively and silently. Till at length turning towards Hortensius, I perceive (said he) by this, I have a prisoner that is sufficiently powerful to make Captives. 'Tis true, my Lord (answered Hortensius) this picture is very hand∣some; but sometimes painters are great Flatterers, and 'tis credible, the Princess of Elismonda has not been injured in the draught of the picture which you see. I assure you, my Lord (interposed an Elaean Gentlemen, who sided with this Prince) the Princess Elismonda is nothing beholding to the painters hand, for she is fairer than he could make her Image. But presently after this the

Prince of Messenia observing the words I repeated to you at the bottom of the Portraiture, he read them with an indifferent loud voice.

Melanthus, behold her against whom you make War, and if you are wise, fear least the Gods avenge her cause? and you repent of your injustice.

Whereupon with a pensil he took off the Table, and which he had newly made use of to trace out the platform of the Fortifications which he inten∣ded to make at Elis, he writ these words beneath the other, as answering to the Prince of Cypa∣rissa;

I have seen her against whom I make War; but if you had been wise, you would never have suffered me to see her, since she is too handsome ever to be parted with to you.

After which, the Prince, out of an impetuous humor, would have the picture carried back, and laid in the same place whence it was taken up, imagining that they who had intelligence with the Prince of Cyparissa, would take notice what he had writ under it, and send it away to that Lover. Hortensius and Eumenes endeavored to divert him from so doing, but without effect. In the mean time they consulted together what was requisite to be done in order to prevent, least those pictures might occasion any commotion. Melanthus first proposed, that course should be taken to discover who had dispersed them, that they might be severely punisht, in the sight of all the Inhabi∣tants of Elis. But Hortensius represented to him that this would rather provoke the people, whom it were better to win by gentleness. For methinks (added he) I have just now thought upon an infallible way of causing this artifice to fall upon your Enemies, and principally upon the Prince of Cyparissa. My dear Hortensius (cryed Melanthus) I beseech you declare it presently, and tell me what is fitting for me to do. It is requisite (an∣swered he) to get all the pictures of the Princess Elismonda you can possibly, and cause them to be brought to you; and then you must declare, that you will keep them carefully, very highly extolling the Princesse's beauty; afterwards give her a visit in person, and send a Herald to the Prince of Cyparissa, to Pisa, and to Olympia, to publish that you are ready to marry the Princess Elismonda, to restore peace in the Countrey of Elis, and render it more happy than ever it was before, provided they will lay down their Arms. By this means you will infallibly raise division be∣tween the Prince of Cyparissa, and the forces which he commands; as also between him and the Citizens of Pisa and Olympia. For you may well think, that being a passionate servant of hers, he will never consent that you should marry her. And on the other side, 'tis easie to imagine, that those which she commands, will never be all of his opinion, but the greater number being desirous of peace, will force him to seek Sanctuary else∣where, and quit his pretentions. Melanthus be∣ing very much satisfied with this project of Hor∣tensius, took no other care but to put it in execu∣tion. Not that he resolved at that time to marry Elismonda, or believed she would easily be brought to admit the match; but the conceit of spoiling the Prince of Cyparissa's stratagem, affected him with such joy, that without farther considering he betook himself to follow the Counsel of Hor∣tensius. To which purpose, himself went into all the Streets of the City, attended by the whole Court, to quiet and settle the people, telling them he was intended to put an end to their trou∣bles, by restoring peace, that the Princess Elis∣monda should shortly be set at liberty, and that the only hinderance would be in the Prince of Cypa∣rissa, if tranquillity were not establisht through∣out the whole Territory of Elis. To confirm these favorable expressions he did as Hortensius had counselled him to; for he caused all the pictures of Elismonda to be brought into his Cham∣ber, and the next morning sent Hortensius to the Princess, to obtain of her the permission to see her, resolving nevertheless, in case she should re∣ject this proposition, to make a great secret of it, and give out on the contrary, that she inclined to such conditions of peace. Hortensius accordingly went in the name of the Prince of Messenia, to the Castle in which this fair Princess was guarded, whose health at that time was somewhat amend∣ed, though her indisposition had left a testimony behind of it self, by a little more then ordinary paleness. It being known by those who guarded the young Princess, that she attributed much to the Counsels of Cleontine, Hortensius, who was very prudent, and lookt no farther than to serve the Prince of Messenia, carefully desired first to speak with her, and caused his name to be told her, and by whom he was sent. Upon which, Cleontine coming to him in the Antechamber of the Princess, presently perceived him to be the same person, whom she had seen in discourse with Melanthus, when Elismonda said she was resolved to hate him; and receiving him very civilly (his aspect and comportment speaking him a man of quality) she attended to hear what he had to speak to her. You will perhaps think it strange, Madam Cleontine, (said he to her) for a man that has not the honor to be known to you, to desire secresie of you at the first time he sees you. But when you shall know that 'tis to serve the Princess Elismonda, I have confidence you will pardon me. You have so much the ayr of a person of honor (answered Cleontine) that I am very inclinable to believe you can offer nothing but what is generous and hono∣rable; and therefore you may please to tell me what your intent is of this address, provided you also give me the liberty to answer you what I shall believe reasonable. I shall tell you then, Madam, (said he to her) that the Prince of Messenia having seen divers pictures of the Princess Elismonda, hath an extream desire to give her a visit, and to express to her for the future, all the Testimonies of gene∣rosity, which the interest of his own glory will permit him to do. But to the end this interview may have a favorable consequence, and produce peace to the whole Countrey of Elis, it will be your part, discreet Cleontine, handsomly to dis∣pose the Princess Elismonda not to receive the Prince of Messenia as an Usurper, but as a generous Enemy, whom she may more easily overcome by favorable respects, than the Prince of Cyparissa

can ever do by valour, notwithstanding he is a per∣son of unquestionable magnanimity. And for the rest, I beseech you not to believe that the Prin∣ce's visit can be displeasing to the fair Elismonda, by any thing which he may say unto her; for he has no other design, but to honour her, and to te∣stifie that he does so by all imaginable civility. When they who may command, request (answer'd Cleontine) and leave the liberty of a refusal, no question but they deserve to have their desire grant∣ed, if it may be done without injury to virtue; and therefore, if the Princess Elismonda does me the honor to believe me, she shall receive the visit of the Prince of Messena, according to your desire: but I fear much (added she) I shall have no small difficulty to perswade her to it. For, in brief, she is a prisoner, the Prince her Father is dead, ever since the beginning of the War. and she wears Mourning still for him, and sees not yet very well, how she shall ever be more happy. And to testi∣fie to you (pursued she, with a half-smile) how much she is sensible of all this, I could almost con∣strain my self to tell you that she hates you, though she does not know you. Then I have sentiments very different from hers (answer'd Hortensius) for I honor her infinitely, although I never saw her. But if it please you (added he) I would know for what reason she hates me before she knows me.

Cleontine designing handsomely to gain upon the mind of Hortensius (whose quality and reputation she understood by him that inform'd her of his de∣sire to speak with her) told him a part of the dis∣course between Elismonda and her self, whilst Eu∣menes was presenting him to Melanthus. For being this pretended hatred of Elismonda was only occa∣sion'd by her observing the noble and handsome aspect of Hortensius, she judg'd it would not be displeasing to him to know it. And indeed Hor∣tensius resented some secret pleasure in this kind of hatred, and told Cleontine with much gallantry, he fear'd when Elismonda should see him nearer hand, she would no longer judge him worthy of her ha¦tred. But at length Cleontine left him in the Anti-Chamber, and went to find Elismonda. And as soon as she saw her, would you think, Madam (said she to her) that the person whom you hate, because you observe him to be of a noble Air, de∣sires to see you and comes from the Prince of Mes∣sena to demand permission to make a visit to you. How? my dear Cleontine (answer'd she) I will see neither the one nor the other; but if I must needs see one of the two, I had rather see him whom I hate without knowing him, than him whom I shall hate all my life. But Madam (re∣plied Cleontine) you are a prisoner, and in pru∣dence you ought not to incense your Conqueror; for the more he is unjust, the more is he to be fear'd, and therefore it is requisite, prudence suppress some part of your resentment. Elismonda blush'd at this discourse, and hiding the design she had from Cleontine, for fear lest if she should tell her what she intended to tell Hortensius, she would not approve it, only commanded her to cause the per∣son she spoke of to enter into her Chamber. But Madam (said she to her) be very circumspect how you receive him; for a fair Princess prisoner, is oblig'd to act with much more prudence than a captive Prince. In truth (answer'd the young Princess) I cannot answer for my self in this occa∣sion; but all I can do, is to assure you that I will, as much as possible, endeavour to constrain my self. Upon which Cleontine caus'd Hortensius to enter. Elismonda hapned this day to be dress'd carelesly enough, so that her bright hair hanging down be∣low a great vail of black Cypress which cover'd her shoulders, made her seem extreamly charming; Her attire though sad, had notwithstanding some∣thing of gallantry; her arms were half bare, with bracelets on them, and her hands so white, that she wanted no adorning though she were un∣drest. Hortensius also was much surpriz'd, be∣holding her infinitely more charming than her picture; he observ'd the air of her countenance so gentle, and something so delicate in her beauty, that he commiserated her misfortune as soon as he saw her; and almost began to condemn in himself, the valour he had employ'd against those who fought for her interests. He saluted her very re∣spectfully, and she receiv'd him with a civility which having not much of obligement, had also nothing at all of disdain. Though Hortensius had purposed to speak first, yet he felt a kind of relu∣ctancy and restraint within him, when he came in∣to Elismonda's presence. But at length overco∣ming that obstacle, of which he understood not the cause, I come to you Madam (said he to her) in the name of the Prince of Messena, to desire your permission he may make you a visit. The perswa∣sion I have (answer'd she, with a cold and deject∣ed aspect) that generous Princes should never go to see such as are miserable, unless it be to relieve them out of their unhappinesses, makes me be∣lieve the Prince of Messena ought not to make me a visit. For I humbly conceive, he has no pur∣pose to restore me what he possesses of my State, and return peacably to his own. Besides, though he should do this act of justice, he cannot restore me the Prince my Father, whose death he hath caus'd by the unjust war he made upon him. You know not, Madam (interpos'd Cleontine, who would moderate this resentment) what the Prince of Messena's design may be. No, no, (answer'd Elismonda) he can have no reasonable design, and therefore it were best to save himself the trouble of coming to see me: for if it be only to perform a naked ceremony, I shall take his visit for an inju∣ry; if he have any good intention, he may please to let me first know it, that so he may be better receiv'd when he comes to visit me. Whilst Elis∣monda was speaking this, Hortensius beheld her at∣tentively, and found such sweetness in hearing her speak, that he had not the power to answer her; till at length recovering from that pleasing amaze∣ment, he endeavour'd to serve the Prince faithfully that sent him, and address'd to her in these terms. When I enter'd into your Chamber, Madam, I had no other intention but that of obeying the Prince who sent me: but, within this short space I have had the honor to see you in, I have taken your in∣terest into his; and therefore Madam, suffer me to conjure you not to refuse the Prince the favour which he desires of you, and which he may not in∣treat you to. Should he come to see me without my permission (reply'd she) I should perhaps be less discontented with it; for I should have the liberty of telling him whatever my just indignation suggested unto me. But if he comes hither with my consent, it will be necessary for me to disguise

my sentiments, and hide the hatred I have of his injustice, and shew some kind of civility to a Usurper who keeps me in prison, sheds the bloud of my Subjects, desolates the fairest Countrey in the world, and violates all sorts of rights without the least respect or reverence of the gods. You have so excellent a capacity (answer'd Horten∣sius) that you cannot but know, Ambition is no shameful crime; and that a Prince who is call'd an Usurper by those whose Countrey he has con∣quer'd, is oftentimes stiled a Conqueror, by all those who have no interests in his conquests. There¦fore Madam, without blaming or excusing the Prince that sends me, or acquainting you with his design or his interests, I only tell you that yours require you not to incense a Prince to whom For∣tune is favourable. You have without doubt, Madam, all that is needful to cause the Arms to fall out of the hands of the most ambitious; for which reason, constrain your self, if possible, I be∣seech you, and consider no inconvenience can fol∣low upon such an enforcing of your self. I told you my dear Cleontine (said the Princess, looking upon that generous Lady) that this Stranger was a ter∣rible enemy: for indeed I had resolv'd without telling you so, to refuse a visit to the Prince of Mes∣sena: but now I see this dangerous enemy will make me alter my determination. But yet I am desirous to know (proceeded she, turning towards him) what oblig'd such an honourable generous person as you, to take the unjust side; is it be∣cause it is more happy? No, Madam (answer'd he) but I embrac'd it out of gratitude; and there∣fore you would be unjust to hate me, though I am of a party opposite to yours, since honor would not permit me not to be so. After which Horten∣sius imagining it behov'd him to justifie himself in the opinion of the Princess, was not unwilling to declare to her by what ways fortune had con∣strain'd him to be her enemy; and Elismonda be∣ing not loth to have cause to cease hating Horten∣sius, press'd him to inform her, how it came about that he was engag'd to serve Melanthus. Horten∣sius therefore recounted to her in few words, his adventure in Thessaly; He acknowledg'd so inge∣niously that he ow'd his life to the Princess Andro∣nice, he related so modestly his encounter with At∣talus, and deliver'd all this so well and handsom∣ly, that Elismonda her self told him, he had reason to be of her enemies side, and promis'd him for the future, to blame him no more for it. Yet she re∣mained still in the same irresolution concerning what she ought to do, till Cleontine and Hortensius effected their perswasions of her, to suffer a visit from the Prince of Messena, on condition he would say nothing that might stir up and augment her grief. Which granted, Hortensius took his leave, and Cleontine follow'd him into the Anti∣chamber, to exhort him to bring the Prince of Messena to a peace. Thus this first day begat a ve∣ry great friendship between Hortensius and Cleon∣tine. As for Elismonda, she so strongly touch'd his heart, that he had never felt the like from any fair person, as he did from her. For he found I know not what kind of secret agitation within himself, which did not permit him to go to Elis, without ren∣dring it perceivable, that he had a great disposition to love Elismonda. Whence comes this commotion which I feel (said he in himself, as he was return∣ing?) and why am I so affected in behalf of a person whom I never saw but one hour? and with whom in all probabilities I ought never to have any particular friendship? The Princess Andronice seem'd beautiful to me at the first instant that I saw her, she also testifi'd much prudence, sav'd my life, is the cause of my fortune, and hath much more kindness for me. And yet neither her beauty, nor her wit, nor her good offices, nor her kind∣ness, cause any agitation in my soul. I love her with a calm affection, and I consider her without having my heart disquieted; my reason is an ingre∣dient into the tenderness I have for her; in a word, I love her as a man loves a Sister. Nevertheless I feel a commotion I know not what to make of, for Elismonda; it troubles and disquiets me, and al∣most transports me over to her side against the Prince whom I serve. But I ought (said he, af∣ter a little musing) to surmount this imaginary weakness, I ought to be faithful to the Prince whom I serve, and I ought to believe that what I feel is nothing but what I am able easily to overcome. Hortensius, after this wise reflection, found really some tranquillity in his mind; but when he came to Melanthus, and the Prince demanded of him, whether Elismonda were as fair as her Picture, he was upon the point of saying, No, and the next moment was ready to say, she was a thousand times more charming; but at length, taking a mean between both, he said, 'twas true, her Por∣traicture perfectly resembled her. After which, making a great violence upon his mind, and being willing equally to serve both Melanthus and Elis∣monda, he told him moreover, that the Princess deserv'd he should treat her well, that she had beauty, wit, and virtue, and that if he could real∣ly possess the Countrey of Elis in peace, by mar∣rying her, he should believe him very happy, How? Ah Hortensius (cry'd he!) as often as any mar∣riage is propos'd to me for reason of State, I always remember what the wise Thales, whose memory is so famous throughout all Greece, and amongst all the Asiatick people, answer'd one day to his Mother upon the same occasion; For when in the flourish∣ing years of his youth, she propos'd to him to mar∣ry, he told her, It was not yet time; and when she made him the same proposal some years after, he answer'd her, That the time was past. So that to imitate so wise a person in something, I answer you, dear Hortensius, that 'tis not yet time for me to marry, and that I had rather owe the possession of the Principality of Elis to my sword than to my marriage. Yet I am willing to let the people be∣lieve I have a design to match with Elismonda; be∣cause this will create divisions among my enemies, and infinitely despight the Prince of Cyparissa. But in sincere truth, I affirm, that though I should be∣come amorous of Elismonda, I would never mar∣ry her by a Treaty; and I could not resolve to do it, but when I should be master of her State. For according to the humour I am of, I should not care to be Husband of the Princess of Elis; but on the contrary, it would be more sutable for him that is the Prince of Elis, to espouse Elismonda. But after all, Marriage is not a thing so necessarily requir'd by policy, as 'tis believ'd, especially for a Prince, who has some peculiar sentiments in his ambition; for I am not solicitous of having suc∣cessors which may possess my Conquests: On the

contrary, should Fortune make my destiny such as I wish it, I should not be sorry if after having con∣quer'd many states, there should be no person found after my death who could only well govern the Nations that I had subdu'd. For which rea∣son having a mind unaffected with that specious Chimera which flatters the humour of those Lovers of posterity, who take pains for people that they can never know; and on the other side, equally fearing to have successors which may prove un∣worthy of me or surpass me; unless I alter my present resolutions, I shall pass my whole life in saying, I will marry, without effectually doing so: and if my humour become not wholly opposite to that I now am in, I shall never be possess'd with any violent Love. For it becomes a Prince (added Melanthus) in order to being happy and gallant, to leave all the Ladies of his Court to hope they may conquer his heart, without affecting any one particularly; it becomes him also to make a meer pleasure of Love, as men do of Musick, Hunting, Dancing, and Conversation, and not to make him∣self slave of some fair coy piece, who, many times, without loving the Prince, loves only the great∣ness which she hopes from him. Hortensius hear∣ing Melanthus speak in this sort, conceiv'd a secret joy in himself, of which he knew not the cause. And his heart was tender: he did not contradict him, though his thoughts were different from the Prince of Messena; he only thought fit to answer him, That it were not to be disapprov'd, if a Prince quitted the courting Love only for the love of Glory. But, Madam, it was resolv'd at the end of this conversation, that Melanthus should go the day following to visit the Princess Elismonda, and that two days after he should send to propound to marry her, and to withdraw his forces, provided the Prince of Cyparissa would lay down his Arms, and depart out of the territory of Elis. Eumenes was of this privy Council; and the next morning Melanthus (being accompanied by him, Hortensius, and his ordinary Guards) went to see the fair Elismonda, who that she might be oblig'd to less civility and constraint upon her self, made semblance of some little indisposition. She was therefore attired in white this day, and her fair hair appear'd carelesly dishevel'd under a kind of small veil of white Tiffeny, which hung down from her head; her attire was fastned together in several places with black Ribbons, she was laid down upon her bed, and carelesly leaned on some black Cushions adorn'd with Tassels of silver; but after so lovely a manner, that if one were to paint Diana, when, having been at hunting with her Nymphs, she reposes her self upon a Bed of ver∣dant grass at the foot of a Tree, she ought to be represented. Elismonda had both modesty and dejectedness in her countenance together; and that which added new luster to the beauty of her com∣plexion was, that her Bed was over-shadow'd with a great Canopy of black Cypress, the corners of which being tied up with twists of silver, hung disorderly about her. Cleontine and the two young Ladies which attended on her, were with the Princess, when the Prince of Messena came to make the visit; for I had forgot to tell you, that those who remain'd with her were Virgins, and of high quality, which would not forsake her, and none of those which were ordinarily design'd to serve her. I shall not tell you, Madam, the particulars of this conversation, having too many beside to acquaint you with; it will be enough to assure you that the fair Elismonda spoke nothing but what was generous, though she shew'd no incivility to Melanthus, for whom her aversion was so great, that it was something unjust; for she esteem'd him a much less generous person than indeed he was. Yet she inforc'd her self wonderfully; but Me∣lanthus was so charmed with her beauty, and ob∣serv'd so noble a spirit in her, that it seem'd he be∣gan to be then in love, though he did not cease to be ambitious. He desir'd her pardon, in that he was oblig'd by the Laws of War, to cause her to be guarded in the Castle wherein she was; he assured her she should receive all respectful ser∣vice there, and that he would omit nothing that depended on him to mitigate her sorrows, till Fortune gave him opportunity to testifie better to her the resolution he had to honor her all his life. Elismonda answer'd this discourse with words which were rather handsome upbraidings for her misfortunes, than real remerciaments. But she chose her language so discreetly which she us'd, that as I said, without doing ought against the greatness of her mind, she did not incense her enemy. Hor∣tensius nevertheless well perceiv'd the forcedness of her behaviour; for this fair Princess sighed now and than, and sometimes lift up her eyes towards heaven in so pathetical a manner, that she caus'd much commiseration in him. Melanthus finding many potent charms in her eyes, endeavour'd to fix his own directly upon them; which Elismon∣da avoiding as much as she could, she was con∣strain'd more frequently to cast her aspect towards Hortensius, who was discoursing softly with Eume∣nes. Whereby this generous Veientine could not hinder himself from being infinitely affected with the sweetness of the fair Elismonda's eyes, though she look'd upon him only to avoid the wishly view of Melanthus. Eumenes taking notice, with what a gladsom attentiveness Hortensius consider'd the Princess; approach'd near him, and speaking low in his ear, Have a care of your self, Hortensius (said he to him) for if you be not cautious, you will soon become more a Captive to the Princess of Elis, than she is to the Prince of Messena. You mistake admiration and pity for Love, (answer'd Hortensius a little smiling.) I know what admira∣tion and pity are (replyed Eumenes) and to as∣sure you so much, I declare to you, that they are very effective to beget Love in such a heart as yours, Since 'tis so (answer'd Hortensius) I thank you for the counsel you have given me, and shall endeavour to make use of it. After which, the Prince of Messena rose up and return'd to Elis. But Madam, he return'd thither in a great musing, which was perceiv'd by Hortensius and Eumenes. As they were going along talking of his reserved∣ness, he suddenly turned about to them, and be∣ginning to speak fiercely, 'Tis true, (said he, though without naming the Princess Elismonda) she is handsomer than her Picture, and moreover, more lovely than handsome, though she is fair in perfection. Than you may perhaps, My Lord, change your sentiments (answer'd Hortensius cold∣ly) and believe hereafter, that Love is something more attractive than Hunting. I confess (said he to them (that I believe Hercules had sometimes

not so great pleasure in Conquering, and carrying on his shoulders that furious Bore of the Eryman∣thian Forrest, as I should have in overcoming the hatred of the Princess Elismonda towards me; for in my judgement this hatred of hers, is as raging as that savage beast was truculent and implacable. Methinks, my Lord, (answer'd Eumenes) the Princess receiv'd you well. Yes, (reply'd he) when she would not vouchsafe to look upon me: but however, I will so bring it to pass, that the Prince of Cyparissa shall have no reason to hope ever to possess her; and though it be only to make him despair, I will make shew of being enamour'd of her, and of intending really to marry her, though I be uncapable of such a resolution. If you become amorous, My Lord (answer'd Hortensius) you will indeed change your sentiments. Though I should come to love her (replyed he) as much as I hate Attalus and the Prince of Cyparissa, yet I would never marry her, for reasons which I have told you at another time; but, in brief, to follow your counsels (added he) it is fit I send to mor∣row to Pisa, to Olympia, and to the Prince of Cyparissa's Army, to make the Proposition we a∣greed upon; and to testifie further, that I intend to win the mind of Elismonda, it is requisite that the Princess my Sister come to Elis, and make fre∣quent visits to her. Hortensius and Eumenes much respecting that Princess, approv'd what Melanthus intended, who the same evening dispatcht one of his attendants to Andronice, with such express order for her speedy coming to Elis, that she was oblig'd instantly to obey it, and begin her journey. In the mean time Melanthus, without losing time. sent to Pisa and Olympia, and to the Prince of Cyparissa, who was returned to his Army, to make the pro∣position I told you of. But, to perplex his enemy the more, he caus'd an offer to be made to him of returning to his Court, knowing well he would never accept it. He also publish'd a Manifesto, in answer to that of his Enemy, and declar'd his new Love which he pretended for Elismonda, so publickly, that the Prince of Cyparissa was soon advertis'd of it, and of what he had written un∣derneath the picture of the Princess of Elis, and what he had said concerning her, and of the care he took of her since he had seen her. For after that first visit, he return'd thither very frequently, and sent every day; the Princess was permit∣ted to walk in the Park of the Castle, all her Wo∣men were suffer'd to attend on her, and she was serv'd with the same magnificence, as if she had been absolute Mistriss of her own Principality. But withal, at the same time her guards were redou∣bled; which being known to the Prince of Cypa∣rissa, put him into a strange despair, in seeing those Pictures of Elismonda, which he believ'd might occasion a commotion in Elis and in the Army, produce no other effect, than raising a curiosity in Melanthus, of seeing the Princess and giving him occasion to become enamour'd on her. But that which compleated his despair was, that the proposition made by Melanthus, was wonderfully well received, both at Pisa and at Olympia, that she understood it was very well lik'd of at Elis, and himself perceiv'd the Officers of his Army did not disapprove it; and his Soldiers who serv'd in a war that could not enrich them, since it was only to defend their own Countrey, declar'd open∣ly that if he were generous he would not oppose the peace. A further affliction to the Prince of Cy∣parissa, was a belief that Elismonda consented to the proposition made by Melanthus, and being wea∣ry of her prison, would have no great repugnan∣cy to marry an enemy that would give her liberty. Alas! (said he to one of his friends, who was al∣so one of mine, and named Artimedes) How un∣happy am I in having been so discreet; for Elis∣monda was never inform'd by my own mouth, of the violent Love I have for her; and though I am confident she cannot be ignorant of it, yet she may make semblance, that I am her Servant, only because I would preserve the same Sanctuary for my self, which the Prince her Father afforded me. Perhaps she thinks, I fight rather by reason of the hatred I bear against Melanthus, than for the Love I have for her. But it is too true, I have no consideration but Elismonda, and without her I have no interest in any thing. Yet it shall never be said, that I will not do my utmost not to be∣come miserable, to hinder mine enemy from be∣coming happy, and to effect also that that fair Princess commit not an action unworthy of her self. Hereupon the Prince of Cyparissa having consulted with Artimedes what was requisite to be done, as∣sembled all the Officers of his Army, and spake to them with so much eloquence and courage, that he brought over a great part of them to be of his own sentiments. He laid before them the impor∣tance of the matter, the tender years of Elismon∣da, and the shame there would be in gratifying him that made an unjust War. For what more could be done (said he) in favour of a Prince that had hazarded his life a thousand times in op∣posing the enemies of this State, and gain'd ma∣ny victories, than to give him the State that he had defended, and the Princess to whom it of right belongs? Think not but the gods will pu∣nish you severely, if you abandon the defence of a Countrey, consecrated unto them in so particu∣lar a manner. Withstand therefore such a dange∣rous design courageously, and know, that if the Prince of Messena believ'd he could take Pisa and Olympia very easily, he would never propound peace to you. 'Tis true (added he) he offers it on such shameful conditions that he seems desirous to be refus'd; and this proposition is only an Artifice to deceive the less intelligent people, who perhaps will presently murmure because the peace is re∣fus'd. But in brief, important deliberations are not to be grounded on the murmurings of the people; for most usually a little constancy appeases them, and a little insinuation makes them change their opinions. In fine (added he) The honor of the gods, that of your Princess, and your own glory is concerned in the matter. There∣fore consider well upon it, and believe not that I wil ever forsake you, as long as I see in you a pur∣pose of making a generous resistance. But with∣al, think not that I will ever sign a Peace which cannot be accepted but with shame. For indeed I will rather choose to become a vagabond, and fugitive from City to City, to the end of the world, than to commit any thing unworthy of my self. This Oration made a great part of the Prince of Cyparissa's Officers who were present at it, become of his judgement; but the rest opposed it, and declar'd that peace was a Good which could not

be bought at too high a rate, that the Prince of Messena was generous and fortunate, and they should be at last constrain'd to do that by force which they might now by Treaty, before the Countrey were totally destroy'd. Thus every one continuing in his sentiments, the Prince of Cypa∣rissa thought he had done very much, in having brought over part of them to his side. After which he went to Pisa and Olympia to endeavour the same thing. But as 'tis more difficult to induce the inha∣bitants of a great City to refuse peace, then Sol∣diers, it was not possible for him to effect his de∣sires. The people were ready to make an insur∣rection in Pisa; and as he was going out of the City, news was brought him that half the Offi∣cers which he had won to his mind, were fallen off from him since his departure. It remained therefore only to seek how handsomely to gain time; in order to which, being very prudent, he told them which had the greatest power, both in Pisa and Olympia, that to testifie to them how much he attributed to their judgements, he con∣sented that the proposition of Melanthus should not absolutely be rejected; but rather, to act with prudence, it were fit to demand a Truce for six months, during which time liberty might be had to speak with the Princess Elismonda, to the end her pleasure might be known. That which ob∣lig'd the Prince of Cyparissa to demand his Truce, was, that in the compass of these six months, the time of the Olympyck Games would be come: when the Prince hop'd that in that great Assem∣bly which was to be at Olympus from all parts of Greece, he might engage the neighboring States in a League offensive and desensive, against the Usurper of Elis. But at last, there being much reason in what he requir'd, and the Truce seeming a good step to the Peace, he brought Pisa and Olym∣pia, and his Army, to approve that which he pro∣pounded. But that which was rare, was, that Me∣lanthus perceiving he could not obtain what he de∣manded, was not sorry that a Truce was insisted on; because he very much fear'd, lest if the War should continue till the time in which the Olympick Games were to be celebrated, and they could not, by rea∣son of it be celebrated, this great change might awaken the adjoyning States, and oblige them to ingage in a War, whose success might be not fortu∣nate unto him, if others should intermeddle in it. Yet something troubled him to suffer any to speak with the Princess Elismonda; but not daring to refuse it, because it would have seem'd too great an inju∣stice, he resolv'd to give way to it, and afterwards to draw out the business in length. It was therefore concluded, that the two Armies should remain in the same places which they possest, that all acti∣ons of hostility should cease, that four of the chief persons of Elis might have communication with the Princess Elismonda, that the Prince of Cyparissa should have the same liberty during the Olympick Games, which were to be celebrated with all the accustomed magnificence, and that both parties should on either side, live as peaceably as if an ab∣solute peace had been concluded. As soon as these things were agreed on, Melanthus, who was really so enamour'd on Elismonda, that none was more, except Hortensius, commanded this generous Fa∣vourite to go to thesair Prncess, and tell her, that she had caus'd his Arms to fall out of his hands, that he had accorded a Truce with the Prince of Cyparissa, only to spare the bloud of her Subjects, to the end, she might be better dispos'd to heark∣en to something which he had resolv'd to tell her, as soon as he could have the happiness to kiss her hands. It may be, My Lord, (answered Hor∣tensius with some commotion, upon Melanthus's sending him) when you grant a Truce to the Prince of Cyparissa, you begin a War with your self. I acknowledge it, my dear Hortensius (said he to him (for I have an extream regret, that I find my self inclin'd to love Elismonda more than I would. But in brief, before any of her Subjects have the liberty of speaking to her, I would inform her that I am at her service: go therefore, my dear Hortensius, and prepare the mind of that charming Princess, in such manner that I may find her a little favourable; not only because its pleasing not to be unkindly treated, but also because I per∣ceive if she reject me at first with disdain, her re∣sistance will increase my passion in such sort, that I shall be the most miserable of men: I was of opi∣nion (answer'd Hortensius coldly) that, Great difficulty had been more proper to extinguish love than to excite it. It is not so in such a heart as mine (answer'd Melanthus:) for facility almost takes from me the desire of pleasing things, and on the contrary difficulty makes me sometimes ardently desire such things as ought to be indifferent unto me. This discourse ended, Hortensius went to Elismonda, but by the way, What did he not think, and what did he not endure? Alas! (said he in his Breast) I am miserable, and destiny is cruel, in making me love a person, by whom I cannot be belov'd again, and whose servant I cannot desire to be, without betraying the fidelity which I owe to a Prince, who hath made all my fortune. But were there any other place wherein I could find any sort of establishment, and could I with honor forsake a Prince who is at War, I would fly from this charming person, whose beauty will lead me to betray my Master. I know not who I am, I am unhappy in all respects, and fortune which seems to be favourable to me in Elis, is yet more rigo∣rous than any other-where, since she confers fa∣vours on me which I cannot enjoy in peace. Oh gods, into what a strange extremity do I find my self reduc'd! if I promote the War, 'tis against the person which I love; if the Truce be made, tis only a time of leasure, to employ me in the winning of her heart for another; if by my ad∣dress I perswade her to be favourable, I render my self the most unhappy of all Lovers; if I cannot prevail with her, but she resist, it will only increase the love of that dangerous Rival, whom I am ob∣lig'd to serve, to the prejudice of my own felicity. If I would fight against my self, I find Elismonda's Beauty more powerful than my Reason; and if I yield to her charms, I am both a criminal and mi∣serable. But besides, I am inconsiderate, and act without reason; for how dare I declare that I love Elismonda? what then must I do? infortunate as I am? My duty; (answer'd he suddenly, after sometime of silence.) But alas (added he sighing) how hard is this duty to be done? and how unea∣sie a thing it is to betray my self, that I may not betray my Master? But it must be done howso∣ever; honor is so great and powerful a reason in a generous heart, that perhaps I ought not to despair

of the victory which I would gain over my self in so dangerous an occasion. Hortensius fixing him∣self in his generous sentiments, arriv'd at the Ca∣stle where Elismonda was, by whom he was well receiv'd: for as she lik'd his person and deport∣ment, and knew he was no subject to Melanthus, she was much more contented to see him, than a∣ny other the Prince of Messena could have sent to her. But alas! the civility which the Princess shew'd towards him, augmenting his love, he was ready to repent himself of the resolution which he had taken. Nevertheless he persisted in his generous design, and us'd such address in his speech to the Princess Elismonda, for the interest of the Prince of Messena, as if he had not acted against himself, whatsoever he endeavor'd in his favour. He told her an hundred circumstances of the admirati∣on which Melanthus had for her; and at length inform'd her that he had granted a Truce for six months, that he had sent for the Princess his Sister, to bear her company, that he intended the Vict∣ors in the Olympick Games should receive their Crowns from her hand; and lastly, that he was resolv'd to make her Reign more gloriously than ever she could have done, if the Prince her Father had liv'd. But Hortensius (answer'd Elis∣monda) if the Prince of Messena repents himself of his injustice, it is not needful to make a Truce, he may conclude the Peace forth with. He hath nothing to do but to withdraw his Forces, return into his Countrey, and leave me my own. Alas! Madam (reply'd Hortensius to her sighing) you little know the power of your charm, if you think it possible to leave you after having seen you. But at present, Madam (proceeded he) suffer me to conjure you to receive favourably, what the Prince is purpos'd to tell you the next time he sees you, though it should happen that he tell you some∣thing which may cro's your inclination; for in∣deed, during the six months of Truce, in which you shall enjoy almost an absolute liberty, many things may come to pass which may be advanta∣geous to your fortune. I know not what advan∣tage may betide me (reply'd she;) but I know well it will never come to pass, that the Prince of Messena can please me. And therefore, generous Hortensius (added this fair Princess, with the most charming sweetness in the World, apparent in her eyes) I will conjure you, that if you discover in Melanthus's mind, I know not what sentiments, which I perceive you would intimate to me, that you remove them from him, if you love his quiet; for were I to be eternally his slave, I should never have any thing for him but aversion and hatred. Hortensius knowing the Princesses resistance would more inflame Melanthus's love, imploy'd all his wit to make her change her opinion, and even perswaded Cleontine, that he had reason on his side. I beseech you, Madam (said he to her) consider well the condition in which you are, and you will find it concerns you extreamly, not to incense the Prince of Messena. I do not urge, Madam, that you should love him more than you did ever any o∣ther; for it does not belong to me to give you such counsel; but I conjure you, Madam, not to re∣ject disdainfully the tokens of affection which the Prince will express to you. For my part (an∣swer'd she) I believe it a very great secret not to leave any hope at first to those, to whom we have firmly resolved to refuse eternally what they desire. 'Tis a good course, Madam (reply'd Hortensius) for them who have a kind of spirit which is easi∣ly repell'd; I mean, for such people, from whom difficulties take away the desire of the most agree∣able things, who have only calm pleasures, and who would not be possess'd of the greatest felici∣ty of the earth, at the purchase of one hours sigh∣ing. But 'tis not effectual to an ambitious Soul, to whom difficult enterprises seem always more ex∣cellent than others, and who never have violent desires, but for such things as cannot be obtain'd without pains. And because, Madam, (added Cleontine) it behoveth not to act with a Prince, whose prisoner you are, in the same manner as if you were free; (for a greater restraint is to be us'd) and since Hortensius seems to me compleatly gene∣rous, I shall not fear to tell you in his presence, that I believe in the like occasion you ought to give neither hope nor despair: and there is a certain kind of serious civility, which neither causes to hope nor yet dejects into despair, which is pro∣per enough to gain time, and to hinder many troublesome consequences which disdain might produce. Therefore, Madam, rather use that na∣tural gentleness which the gods have given you; you may lay it aside when you please; and since Hortensius assures you, that four considerable per∣sons shall have the liberty of communication with you during six months, and the Prince of Cyparissa also during the Olympick Games; com∣ply with the mind of a Prince, who is able to use more rude ways with you if he pleases. I pro∣mise you (answer'd Elismonda) I will do what I am able, to follow your counsels, though I dare not answer absolutely for my self. Hortensius hearing her speak thus, almost repented himself of having been so urgent to perswade her to gentleness: but at length, considering he could do nothing in his own behalf with innocence, but only to hinder Melanthus's love from increasing to a greater ardor, he thought he had some ground of satisfaction in leaving Elismonda in the resolution of constraining her self, and more in being commended and in∣treated by her, and observing she had some esteem for him. All which caus'd him to think, he should return less discontented than he came. But as soon as he was upon the way, and beheld Elismonda no longer, he found himself as unhappy as before, and rather more. For he found his passion was augmented, and it came into his mind, that per∣haps Elismonda lov'd the Prince of Cyparissa. So that he perceiv'd himself possess'd, as well with jea∣lousie as with love, if at least any separation can be made between these two passions. Alas! (said he to himself) does it belong to a miserable per∣son that loves without hope, to be jealous? to an unhappy man, who is his Rivals confident, and serves him faithfully? 'Tis true, said he, but the Rival whom I serve is hated, and he that troubles my imagination, is perhaps belov'd. But what con∣cerns it me, (answer'd he suddainly) whether Elismonda love or not, since Fate will never suffer me to make her know I love her. After which, Hortensius spoke no more to himself, but fell into such a profound musing, that he arriv'd at Elis, when he thought himself yet far from it. At his arrival he understood, it was not above an hour before, that the Princess Andronice entred into the

City. For whom having a very particular kind∣ness, the news gave him much satisfaction. He went therefore with speed to give the Prince an account of his journey, and found him coming from the Apartment of Andronice. Whereby it was necessary for him to discharge his intelligence before he could see her; for this Prince was really extream amorous of Elismonda. Hortensius was now inconceiveably perplex'd: for though Melanthus had perswaded him, that difficulty was capable to encrease his love, he was so fearful of giving him too much hope, that he was troubled to choose words wherewith to express himself, and chang'd his order and manner of speaking many times in∣voluntarily. For when he told Melanthus he did not find Elismonda had so great hatred against him, as he imagin'd, he beheld so much joy arising in his eyes, that he fear'd hope would augment his passion. But then again, to weaken the obliging sense of what he had said, he told him, he knew not whether Policy had not a great share in the ci∣vility of the Princess. With which Melanthus was so dejected, that Hortensius was forc'd to re∣turn to his first smooth language, for fear lest this passion should become too violent, both for the quiet of Melanthus, Elismonda, and himself: But at length, when the Prince had fully understood his success, he gave him liberty to go see the Prin∣cess Andronice, who receiv'd him with so great a goodness, that had not he been pre-possess'd with love, the testimonies of so tender a friendship would have given him almost as much pleasure as the favours of a Mistriss; but in the condition his Soulwas, he only half gusted whatever was advan∣tageous to him. Andromice being of a lively appre∣hension, immediately perceiv'd Hortensius had something in his Breast troubled him. And being there was none present saving Eumenes, their com∣mon friend, she demanded the cause of it with such obliging urgency, as the sadness of a friend in∣duces a true friend to use. What is it Hortensius (said she to him) which hinders you from having as much joy in seeing me, as I have in finding you? But beware you tell me not, there is nothing trou∣bles you; rather pretend some kind of sorrow or other; and tell me rather that you are fallen in love at Elis, than assign no cause of a kind of sad∣ness which I observe in your eyes, for fear least I may suspect you of dissimulation. I am altoge∣ther oblig'd, Madam, (answer'd he) with the manner of your speech; but I beseech you, do not constrain me, to search my heart for every trou∣blesome thing that is there, for this would but augment my melancholly. Be satisfy'd therefore, Madam, in that I assure you my eyes are deceivers, if they do not tell you I am uncapable of having a greater satisfaction than that which I find in the honor I have to see you. But, I beseech you, Madam, demand of me no further; for I cannot really tell you, what present oppression I have up∣on my mind, but tis true, I feel something which qualifies the pleasure I have really in the enjoy∣ment of your presence. After which Andronice made him a thousand acknowledgements for the generous counsels which he had given the Prince her brother, since he came to him, desiring him to con∣tinue them; and being Melanthus had already dis∣cover'd to her part of his intentions, and told her in few words the state of affairs, she told him she should be perfectly oblig'd to him, if he could bring it to pass that the War might end in the mar∣riage of Melanthus and Elismonda, and that there might be after the Olympick Games, a second Festi∣val for their Nuptials, whereby their States might be united, and tranquility establish'd in the most delectable part of Peloponnesus. Fortune hath so great an influence in what you desire, Madam, (answer'd he, sighing) that you ought to expect so great an event from her rather than from me; And moreover, Madam, (proceeded he) since you are here 'tis your address must effect what I am unable to do, and you need only have re∣course to your self for that, for which you seem to await from another. Hortensius spoke this with so melancholly an air, that Andronice believ'd it was because he conceiv'd, what she desir'd was ve∣ry difficult to be brought to pass. But she could not discover to him her conjecture, because the Prince her Brother came back into her Chamber, to desired her she would make a visit to the Princess Elismonda, as speedily as she could. But in the mean time, himself the day following went to give her one, and told her, he had caus'd the Prin∣cess Andronice to come to Elis, on purpose that she might entertain and divert her. But though he had resolv'd before to mention his love openly to her, yet he forbore to do it, and contented him∣self with giving her occasion to guess what he had in his mind, without positively declaring it to her. Whence it became more easie for the Princess Elismonda, to follow the counsel which was given her. And though she appear'd not very disdainful to Melanthus, yet she departed her self with such coldness, that according to the genius of his humor, he return'd much more amorous than before. Two days after, Andronice being accom∣pained by Hortensius and Eumenes, made her a vi∣sit, which she receiv'd much better than that of Melanthus: for having heard this Princess much commended by Hortensius, when he related to her how she had sav'd his life, she was readily inclina∣ble to esteem her. Besides that, foreseeing the love of Melanthus might occasion trouble to her, she was not sorry of gaining such a protection as this. So that this interview pass'd very agreeably on both sides. You know, Madam, (said Andronice to the Princess of Elis) that I am no partaker in the War, which the Prince my brother makes, and so you would be unjust to hate me, because I am his Sister. 'Tis true, Madam (answer'd Elismonda with a little smile) that you have made no War against me, but yet you are not without bearing a part in the victo∣ries of Melanthus, since as you know you have been as far as the famous Valley of Tempe, to offer Sacrifices for his conquest; so that I conclude, your prayers have done me as much mischief, as the va∣lour of the Prince of Messena. When I was in Thessaly, (reply'd Andronice) I had no other de∣sign but to beseech the gods for peace: but, Ma∣dam, it appears my prayers were not well receiv'd, if I ask'd for victory; for during my journey, the Prince my Brother was not over successful. But in brief, Madam (proceeded she) since a Truce has been concluded, let us enjoy this image of peace, till we can obtain a real peace, which I foresee you may easily effect if you please. If it depended on me, it had been already made (reply'd Elismon∣da) but in my judgement, 'tis in the power of the

gods only to give it. But in the mean to testifie to you that I am not unjust, I promise you not to look upon you as an enemy. After which, Cleontine, Hortensius and Eumenes all ingaged in this conver∣sation; and as the Princess of Messenia, is very grateful, she exaggerated to Elismonda the obli∣gation which she had to Hortensius, for hindring her from being taken away by Attalus; and Hor∣tensius in his turn did the like for her, extolling the generosity she shewed in saving his life without knowing him. To save your life (answered An∣dronice) I did not hazard my own, but you con∣trarily to rescue me from being taken away, expo∣sed yours courageously to a danger which appea∣red inevitable by the in-equality of number. But Madam, (replyed he) not to do what I did, would have been ungrateful and dishonorable; but as for you, you might have contented your self, with having some slight compassion of a miserable stran∣ger, without being lyable to any reproach if you had done no more. Alass! Hortensius (said An∣dronice) I am not of your opinion; for I am per∣swaded they who think they do enough in pitying the unfortunate without relieving them when they may deserve no thanks for their commiseration: and for my own part, if I beheld worthy persons unhappy without intending to seek to succor them I would make shew of not perceiving, either their merit, or their unhappiness; for there is nothing more absurd, than to behold such unprofitable com∣passion in the breasts of those, who are able to give remedy to the misfortunes which cause it. In the mean time, the world is full of those people, who bemoan others and do not help them. But to tell you my own humor freely, I should rather choose to be some Illustrious unhappy One, that were able to support the rigor of infelicity with constan∣cy, and were known to be worthy of a better for∣tune; than to be one of those tender hearted per∣sons without virtue which I spoke of, who at the same time, that themselves do nothing for the mi∣serable whom they compassionate, yet count it strange that others do as little; and who pass their whole lives in bewailling the evils which they are sometimes able to remedy, and blame people who do but imitate their very example. Nevertheless, those people who make such a noise with their com∣passion, and the blame they lay upon others like themselves, think they have right to be esteemed generous, and that this unprofitable pitty ought to be ranked amongst the heroical virtues. But for my part, who am not of that mind, but be∣lieve my self accessary to all the miseries which I may, and do not hinder; I should have condemn∣ed my self a thousand times of your death, if after having seen you in the hands of those Thessalians, so zealous for the laws of their Countrey. I had not done my utmost to save your life. What you say is very generous and just, Madam (answered Elismonda) and I am extreamly glad to see you have so excellent sentiments; for as I am unhappy, I hope you will do all you can to hinder me from being so for the future. Doubt it not, Madam, (replyed Andronice) for I never blame that in ano∣ther which I am conscious may be reproached to my self. All that you say is so nobly spoken, and so generous (said Cleotine) that I think no∣thing can be ever be reproached unto you. All that she does is so heroical (added Eumenes) that what she speaks is nothing compa∣rable to it. I beseech you (said Andronice, praise me not so superlatively, least I come short of making good what you say; but rather acknow∣ledge with me that I owe more to Hortensius than he does to me. True (said Elismouda,) for that matter I am of your judgment; for I had rather be left to dye, than left in the hands of a Prince, whom I should hate if he offered to carry me away. For my part (said Hortensius) I cannot declare my own opinion in this case; all I can do is to assure you, I believe it impossible to be more obliged to any person than I am to the Princess of Messenia, for she hath ratified the first good office she did me by so many others, that I cannot believe she re∣pents of it. I owe to her (proceeded he) the ho∣nor I have in being known to you, which I put in the number of my most happy adventures. Unquestionably (said Eumenes) you owe very much to the Princess Andronice; but also owe very much to your self; for if she had not known you to be a person worthy of her friendship, she would ne∣ver have given it you. Hortensius, unwilling to suffer himself to be commended more, sought to divert the conversation, by giving open notice that Cleontine was in a deep meditation, and it seemed on something nor unpleasing. Upon which, the Princess of Elis turning towards her, demanded what it was that so deeply took up her thoughts. So small a matter (answered she) that if I could disobey you, I would not tell it you. But as I am very precise not to refuse you any thing, I con∣fess the Princess of Messenia let fall something in her discourse, which makes me reflect upon the pro∣ceedings of very many women, which I know; and gives me cause of musing, upon what she well expressed, That she would never blame any per∣son for a thing for which she might be blamed her self. For indeed Madam, if you remember, you have seen at Pisa a woman handsome enough, who because her hands are very ill shapen, hath brought her self into a persuasion, that 'tis no great com∣mendetion to have them otherwise. So that when she commends any fair one, she never takes no∣tice of her hands, and only praises that in others, which she believes most handsome in her self, to the end the application may be returned to her own ad∣vantage Thus there is found in a bad sense a practice opposite to that of the Princess Andronice; for where∣as she blames not that in another, which she be∣lieves may be faulted in her self, this Lady praises only what she believes commendable in her self. I assure you (answered the Princess of Messenia) there are such women every where, and I know some at Messene, who because themselves have ve∣ry good hair, believe sprightly eyes, a clear com∣plexion, a handsome mouth, good teeth, and a graceful neck, not sufficient to make a fair person, if her hair be of a very common brown, and who in the commendations of others, mention no other perfections but that of comely hair. On the con∣trary; when occasion requires them to speak of a handsome neck, and they have not such themselves, they only say in general, such a one is of a good shape. But I am of opinion, 'tis a very reasona∣ble thing do render justice without taking in one's own interest. Not but that it's sometimes allowa∣ble in prudence to omit mentioning a defect we are conscious of in our selves: But notwithstand∣ing,

'tis not modesty to commend that excessively, though in another, wherein our selves have a title to the application. At least, for my own part, did I know my self conscious of procuring, or insinua∣ting my own condemnations, I should extreamly reproach my self for it. But Madam (answered Elismonda) you do not observe in the mean time, that you are guilty of what you decry by speaking so well, which turns much to your own commen∣dations; Which, 'tis true, you may receive with∣out blushing, since you deserve more than can be given you. The Princess of Messenia answered to this civility with a greater; and these two illustri∣ous Ladies were so highly satisfied with one ano∣ther, that this first days converse made a friendship between them. After which they both retired se∣verally. As for Hortensius, the more he beheld Elismonda, the more ardent became his love; his reason opposed his passion in vain, which he found too strong to be surmounted; so that his only pur∣pose was to use his best prudence to govern and conceal it, and to continue firm the resolution of serving Melanthus, with as much sidelity in rela∣tion to the Princess, as if he had been wholly indifferent for her. His virtue was indeed much supported by the little possibility he conceived there was to be so much as indured, in his pretensions, though the Prince his Master had not been his Ri∣val. Upon the way towards Elis, Andronice's dis∣course to Hortensius and Eumenes, was altogether concerning the fair Elismonda, and when she came to the Prince of Messenia, she fell into superlative expressions in favor of that Princess, which served to inflame Melanthus more in his affection. For 'tis usual for such as are naturally ambitious to dote, in a manner rather upon the opinion of others than their own, and they are more guided by the commendations which are given to the per∣sons which they love, than by the knowledge which themselves have of their merit. But in fine, to con∣tract my relation as much as I may, it was resolved the Princess of Elis should be accommodated with betteer Lodgings during the Truce, than she was at present. Yet it was not thought convenient to carry her to Elis, and therefore choice was made of a very fair house for her reception, situated on the bank of the River Alpheus, and belonging to a Lady of great Quality and Worth, with whom Hortensius had contracted a great friendship, be∣cause he had protected her goods and estate from the disorders of the War. This place was so much the more commodious, for that the Quarters wherein Melanthus's Army lay, secured it; and it was also near the place where the Olympick Games were wont to be celebrated. So that all the con∣veniences of the safety and delight being found in it, it was determined, the Princess Elismonda should be conducted thither; that the Princess An∣dronice should be there with her, that a small number of Women of Quality of Elis, should at∣tend on the Princess Elismonda, if she pleas'd, and that Hortensius should choose whom he pleased, to be responsible to him for the Government of the Castle, to the end he might be obliged to have a particular care of it; who knowing not whom to confide in, so well as Eumenes, he gave him order to undertake the Guard of the Castle, whi∣ther the Princess was to be removed. Eight days after the Truce concluded (all securities necessary in the like occasions, given and taken on both sides) Melanthus went to visit Elismonda, attend∣ed with the whole Court, to whom the Princess An∣dronice, and several Ladies of Quality, were re∣paired early in the morning. The Prince of Mes∣senia, made all protestations to Elismonda, which could be suggested by love and generosity to an in∣genious person; and gave her the hand, to lead her to a magnificent Chariot, which he had cau∣sed to be provided for her. Into which the Prin∣cess Andronice accompanyed her; and Cleontine with the other Ladies followed in other Chariots. Melanthus, Hortensius, Eumenes, and all the other persons of Quality mounted on Horse-back, and conveyed these Princesses to Melisaris, the place whither the Princess Elismonda was designed to go. At her arrival, the Mistress of it called Elisa∣nie, received this Illustrious and Noble Company, with all imaginable State. Also the Ladies were lodged in this fair house: but the Prince of Messe∣nia, Hortensius, and all the other men, saving Eumenes, return'd to the Camp, till the next morn∣ing. Such as by the Treaty ought to have permis∣sion to see the Princess Elismonda, were admitted to her in private; but she was seen by none else but in the presence of Andronice and Eumenes; the Prince of Cyparissa, having the liberty granted of seeing her only during the time of the Olympick Games, suffer'd more than can be imagin'd. And that which was something remarkable, was, that Hortensius, who believed that Prince was not hated, had nevertheless a great desire to know him, to the end he might the better judge what he ought to believe, and what not. Yet there were some moments, in which he was not displeased in imagin∣ing, that perhaps he loved the Prince of Cyparissa in some little measure, since that might be a means to hinder her from Melanthus. But the next mo∣ment after, repenting of this sentiment, he was jealous and inquieted, and had a curiosity of see∣ing his Rival, though full of regret, of which he understood not the true reason; for he believed he had so little interest in the affection of the fair Elismonda, that he passed his own doom, and con∣demned himself. In the mean time this Princess being young, naturally affecting conversation, company, and divertisement, injoyed this agreea∣ble interval with great contentment. Not, but that in her inward thoughts, she resented very great discontent, in seeing that the Prince of Mes∣senia pretended Love to her; because she was re∣solved never to make peace on condition of mar∣rying him. But when the persons admitted to her, counselled her not to declare her self so openly while the Truce lasted, but to draw our matters in length, and to endeavor to take the benefit of the Olympick Games, to ingage the neighbouring States to side with her interests, she resum'd all her former pleasantness, and seem'd incomparably more charming than ordinary; which added new flames to Melanthus and Hortensius. Mean while, the time of the Olympick Games approaching, the Truce became generally known in other Countries, and that they should be celebrated, as was for∣merly accustom'd. So that an infinite number of considerable persons, came to Elis from all parts of Greece, either to bear a part themselves in the Games or at least, to be spectators of them. My curio∣sity hapning that time to lead me to Sparta, I took a resolution to go see this great Festival: but by the way thither, I fell into company with a man

of Corinth, who told me he was not going to Elis, out of mear curiosity, but to know whether it were true, that the Favorite of the Prince of Messenia, were a person called Hortensius. For if it be so, (said he) I shall be glad to inform him of his own quality. What you say (answer'd I to this Co∣rinthian) seems to me sufficiently strange; for, how can he be ignorant of his own descent, and you know it? since you are a Greek, and the name which you give him, is not of your own Countrey. This man who was naturally a lover of talk, be∣gan to tell me all that I have told you, concern∣ing the birth of Hortensius; of the Predictions which were made, that he should be a Prince; of the resolution his Father had taken to banish him for ever; and in brief, all that I related of Hor∣tensius, till the death of this person, to whose trust his Father had committed him. But how come you to know all these things, (said I to him, after he had given me the relation which I have repeat∣ed to you) and how comes Hortensius not to know them? I came to know them (answered he) by being an intimate Friend of his that was entrusted with him, who ingag'd not me to acquaint him with his Fortune, unless himself should happen to dye, without first having discovered it to him. Now this man being dead whilst I was absent upon a very long Voyage, at my return to Corinth, I un∣derstood that Hortensius was gone into Thessaly, and I have been since told that he is a Favorite of the Prince of Messenia. Wherefore desiring to satisfie the will of him that brought him up, who was determined to reveal his quality to him, as soon as he saw him in some setled condition, which might in probability, take away all desire of re∣turning into his Countrey; I thought my self ob∣lig'd to go, and deliver him from that discontent, I presume he suffers, by being totally ignorant of his Birth and Fortune. And I resolve upon this the rather, for that I have a Kinswoman with the Princess of Elis, whose name is Cleontine, and is in great favor with her. This discourse of Agenor, seeming to me very surprising, I had a curiosity to know Hortensius, and being I was going to that place, only to see whatever deserved to be seen, I intreated him to oblige me so far by the interest of his Kinswoman, that I might see the Princess Elismonda, who was reported for a great beauty. He promised me, he would endeavor to serve me, and accordingly performed his word. I shall not trouble you with relating the circumstances, how he brought it about, since 'tis not my own History, I am recounting to you. But in brief, I was so happy, that he made me known to Cleontine, and Cleontine presented me to the Princess Elismonda, and the Princess Andronice, by whom I was civilly received; that afterwards I became a friend of Hortensius and Eumenes, who presented me to Me∣lanthus, and going to Pisa, was civilly regarded by the Prince of Cyparissa. This Madam, I have told you, to the end you might give more credit to the things which remain for me to relate, and which are of greater importance. This man of Corinth, having discharged his intention, of dis∣covering to Hortensius who he was, this generous Veientine was extreamly joyful to understand, that his Birth was very Illustrious, and not much troubled, to know that it was foretold, he was destinated to Rule. For as a Lover takes all occa∣sions he can, to give himself hope, he imagin'd, that perhaps he was destinated to rule one day in the heart of the fair Elismonda. But he con∣demned this thought in himself, the next moment, as unjust and void of reason, and continued firm in the resolution he had taken, to serve his Master with fidelity. 'Tis true, the rigor of Elismonda against Melanthus, afforded great support to his Virtue; for had he observed any inclination in her towards him, it would have been more trouble∣some to him, to have continued faithful. In the mean time, a great dearness grew between Andro∣nice and Elismonda, notwithstanding their different interests. Hortensius also became particularly gra∣cious with both of them, though he was a lover of the latter, and only a friend to the first. Eu∣menes also had a great share in the confidence of all these persons; and though none of them plain∣ly spoke their true sentiments, yet there was a very great friendship between them. But I had forgot to tell you, that Hortensius being very glad it was known his Birth was illustrious, gave Age∣nor liberty to tell whence, and what he was; but intreated him to be secret in reference to those pre∣dictions, which designed him to Reign in some place, for fear lest being Favorite to the Prince, it might render him suspected. Agenor assured Hortensius he would be obsequious to his desires, but did not tell him that he had already discove∣red the truth to Cleontine and to me, intending to intreat silence from us both. But when he went to find Cleontine, to make this request to her, it was already too late; for she acknowledged she had communicated it to Elismonda. Yet she pro∣mised to request that fair Princess not to take any notice of knowing it, and accordingly made good her word. So that Elismonda congratulating with him that he had learnt his descent to be very illustri∣ous, gave him no occasion to think that she un∣derstood any thing farther of him; and Hortensius was secure in this regard. Not that he believed these predictions would ever have any accomplish∣ment, but he knew Melanthus was inclinable to inconstancy, and being extreamly ambitious, mat∣ters of this nature might raise suspitions in him to his prejudice; though in his heart he only project∣ed how to rule over his own passions, if he were able. But to tell you the truth, his love was too strong to be subdued; it grew more vigorous by the knowledge he had of his birth, and he lookt upon himself as in some sort more unfortunate. But though he lov'd infinitely, yet he continued firm in the resolution he had taken to be faithful to Melanthus, who for his part loved Elismonda as ardently as he was capable, though his passion was inferiour, both to that of Hortensius, and to that of the Prince of Cyparissa. Elismonda, who under∣stood the affection of two of her Lovers, bore a hatred against Melanthus, and an averseness to∣wards the Prince of Cyparissa, but had a great in∣clination for Hortentius, whose passion she was ab∣solutely ignorant of. For though he testified all ima∣ginable care and respect for her, yet she interpret∣ed all, but as his civility and generosity, and pro∣ceeding from the desire he had to please Melan∣thus, and perhaps from some kindness he might have for her, but not at all from love. As for Hortensius, he was jealous of the Prince of Cypa∣rissa without knowing him, because he knew not

that he was not loved; and he was his Masters Ri∣val without a Crime, and without jealousie too, because he knew well that he was hated. The Princess Andronice was always possest with a vio∣lent hatred against Attalus, of whom no tidings could be heard, and had a great dearness for Hor∣tensius. Behold therefore, Madam, the inclinati∣ons of all the persons I have mentioned, at such time as I had the happiness to be known, and not to be hated by them. But for that, whilst this interval of the Truce lasted, and especially during the Olympick Games, this Court which was com∣posed of Friends and Enemies, Strangers, and Inhabitants of the Countrey, and whither were repaired the gallantest persons of Greece, was mag∣nificent and splendid; I shall with your permission describe to you the delectableness of the House in which the Princess resided, and the merit of her to whom it belonged; Moreover, I shall pourtray to you some of the Ladies which added ornament to it, and in what manner they lived there, to the end you may afterwards receive more delight in understanding what passed at the Olympick Games, and in the strange events which followed them. Melisaris, therefore is situated upon the Bank of the River Alpheus, so much fam'd, both for the manner by which he makes his course, his wonderful passage under the Sea, and irruption again near Syracuse in Sicily. This place is extream∣ly delightful, and hath peculiar excellencies, not to be found in any other. Melisaris as I told you stands up∣on the Bank of the River Alpheus, and there being only the great Road which leads to Olympia between the River and the house; which hath three great Courts, in each of which is a Gate looking to∣wards the River; that in the middle, is the chief, directly facing the body of the House, at each end whereof come forth two other sides, or wings of building which form the greater Court, and reach down to the Bank of the River. The two other, which are on each side of these two wings are more commodious than magnificent. But as this House is on the one side seated on the Bank of a River, on the other it is at the foot of a Hill of great steep∣ness which bounds the Gardens behind the House. It is situated in such sort, that being arrived at the first story of stairs, the way is thenceforth even and direct into the Garden, in the middle of which is a handsome Fountain. But though it seems this high Hill may cause some inconvenient effect, yet the irregularity of the place hath some kind of rustick beauty which is not unpleasing. For though this Hill be sufficiently steep, yet it is all covered with Trees, which orderly rising some higher than others make a prospect, whose wild∣ness and rudeness does not hinder it from being handsome and pleasant. Then passing from this first Garden, which is all beset with rare Fruit-Trees, into another on the left hand, which is raised higher like a Terrasse, and so out of several Orchards advanced still higher than others in manner of Terrass-work, at length there is an entrance into a large Park, which is as high as the Mountain, and full of very stately Trees. I omit to tell you that there are also many Fountains in these several Gardens, that there is a Grotto in a Mount, and several Mounts about the Park; for these make not the principal gracefulness of Meli∣saris. I forbear also to tell you, that the apart∣ments of this House are handsom and convenient, and only intimate to you that from a Balconie which is in the middle of the building, and two others at the end of each side, there is the most delectable prospect that can be imagined. For the River Alphaeus is just before the House, and passes with a strait and even stream in this place. But that which renders this sight more agreeable, is, that there are several Islands in it, which contain handsome Meadows and Fields. They are incom∣passed round about the shores with Willows and Lote-Trees, which yet do not hinder a Great Plain from being visible beyond them; on the far∣ther side whereof, there arises a Mountain, on which is seated a very stately Palace, which is a wonderful ornament to the Country about: for besides that it is magnificent, there is a long Train of Woods, which reaching towards Olympia, Crowns all the highest Mountains which arise on this side, and inclose the Plain I speak of. On the right hand of Melisaris are several Villages and Temples, making the prospect yet more graceful and delectable. There is also another fair House not very remote, which appears beyond the Wil∣lows, and seems to be built only on purpose to be seen from Melisaris. On the side towards the right hand, the sight of the River is so much the more pleasant; for that looking upon it from the second Tarressed Garden, there appears a little Islet lying in the middle, which is joyned to a little Village by a small rustick bridge, and makes a pretty show amongst so many various and handsome objects. There is also seen from this admirable House, ano∣ther place, which though extreamly imbellisht by the number of rivulets that nature with the assist∣ance of art hath scattered here and there, is much more remarkable in that it was sometimes the delight of an Hero, and Heroesse, who deserved the praises of all Nations and Ages, having hereto∣fore belonged to the wise Nester, who by his pru∣dence, magnanimity, eloquence and virtue, surpas∣sed all the Heroes that lived before him. It was afterwards possessed by a Lady, one of his des∣cendants, the miracle of her Sex, and whose beauty was not to be surpassed by any other, whose wit transcended the capacity of all imagination, and whose virtue was yet above her beauty and wit. But to represent to you what was yet more re∣markable at Melisaris, be pleased to permit me to describe a place to you, wherewith I was charm∣ed: and let me oblige you to enter into a little painted and gilded Boat, and make a short voyage upon the River. Imagine therefore, that were you to take Boat before the house of Melisaris, you must go first towards the left hand, having on one side one of the Islands I spoke of, and on the other a Meadow bordered about with Willows, a little Temple, several rustick Houses, and a Moun∣tain covered with Myrtles and Laurels. After having gone some time this way, you must turn towards the right hand between two great Islands, and enter into a distinct stream of the River, which may be resembled to a covered Alley, the Banks of which have a most lovely verdure, interspeised with several sorts of flowers, and are beset with great Willows, which advancing themselves one above another, and touching with their tops, make a kind of continued Arch or Cradle, the most grace∣ful that can be imagined. The water of this little

arm of the River is clear and calm, and the Sand and Pebbles visible at the bottom, the River be∣ing in this place not very deep. At the end of this Channel is a square place between the Islands, which is as it were the Center, into which termi∣nate four other Alleys of Water, such as I now des∣cribed to you, that is, their Banks are all covered with several sorts of flowers, and beset along with Trees, which make a very agreeable shade, and which being represented in the Water, amuse and delight the eyes, even when they are no longer lookt upon. Having passed this rare place where the four watry Alleys meet, there are seen others also as pleasant; for you would think you were in a Labyrinth, or Maze of waters, more ad∣mirable in its kind than those which are so famed in Aegypt and Crete. For besides, that the Banks of these several streams are green, flowry, and sha∣dy, as I said; they are also bordered about with young bull rushes, amongst which are seen seve∣ral water-flowers, which grow in the water as they do. There are also seen several innocent ani∣mals, who enjoying the tranquillity of so pleasant a place, scarce hide themselves at all; the solli∣tude is so still and quiet. For such a profound si∣lence reigns there, that the noise of leaves scarce ever disturbs it; the wind not being able to blow there by reason of the Hills, which incompass it on every side. And that which renders this hand∣some Desart yet more lovely, is, that there is on one side a place to land in one of the Islands, which is the most pleasant Meadow in the World, and another on the other, in a place belonging to the Prince of Elis, which presents you with a great Wood, whose Trees seem to touch the Clouds, and which by the darkness of their shadow, and the great store of thickets and coverts round about them, seem to be in a Countrey uninhabited. But to conclude, how excellent a place so ever this Desart seems, she that inhabits it renders it more illustrious by her virtue, than it is agreeable by its own handsomness. The wise Elisante, whose sol∣litude is so admirable, is a person of rare and ex∣traordinary qualifications. She is of a discreet wit, a noble and firm Soul, a pleasant humor, high spirit, and endued with all virtuous incli∣nations. None of those weaknesses are to be seen in her, which are ordinarily attributed to women. She is above all gawdy and trifling gallantry, her morality is solid without rudeness, she retains the love of excellent things in her Desart; and has a kind of generosity in her deportment, which has not left her in her sollitude, though she be past the period of youth. She bears an ardent kindess to all virtuous persons, and a natural aversion from all that are not such; her friendship is so firm and so tender withall, that there is a mixture in her heart of love and amity, which hath produced a third kind of affection, accompanyed with the good qualities of the other two, without having their defects. But amongst her friends of both Sexes, the admirable Amalthaea, and the wise Ti∣manthus, whose names I presume are not unknown to you, hold the chief rank in her heart; for though she inhabite in the Countrey of Elis, yet she is originally of Sicily. Elisante is in my judg∣ment highly to be admired in one respect, which is, that loving society naturally, she has not with∣standing attained the art to dispense with the want of it. And conceiving that of all pleasures those which arise from agriculture are the most innocent, she is become so perfect in this art, which is the most antient and necessary of all others, that the wise Timanthus who is her master in this kind of knowledge, is not her superior in that wonderful skill, which consists in well ordering of Land, and improving the advantages of seasons, and which affords the most considerable delights of the Countrey to those who understand how to use the same as well as Elisante. Moreover, in the prudent management wherewith she accompanies her industrious cares about her Gardens, Meadows, Woods, and Flocks, she finds all the pleasures of profit, imployment, and glory, this prudent retire∣ment having such a loveliness in all respects, that the virtuous Elisante cannot be too much commend∣ed for it. She hath many Illustrious friends, writes handsomly, and speaks with a certain vivacity, declaring both the accuteness and firmness of her mind. Then in reference to her Children, the desire of seeing them virtuous ha•• ever been the most ardent of all such as she is capable of. In a word, Elisante is the Soul of her Desart, which as pleasant as it is, is indebted to her for a great part of its lustre and loveliness But the better to give you the description of the little Court of the two Princesses I was speaking of, it is necessary for me to pourtray forth to you two Persons, which made the principal ornament of it, one of which is named Chrysilia, and the other Claricia. The first is unquestionably one of the most lovely women, and the other one of the most charming Virgins in the world. Chrysilia is a person so amia∣ble, that should she design to have her self loved by all the World, nothing could resist her. But since your silence seems to command me to draw you a picture of her without colours, and such in which words alone give the ayr that makes re∣semblance, and a little imagination animates; you may please to know, that Chrysilia is not tall of stature, nor yet of their size, who are accounted little; for if she sees some taller than her self, she also sees others not so tall, and her stature is beyond exception well proportioned to the ayr of her whole person. Her hair is the fairest black in the world, that is, the most bright and resplendent; so that as her head is very gracefully tired, the neglected Rings which fall carelesly upon her cheeks or necks make the most pleasing show possible, with her mixt complexion of Lilly and Carnation, which is beyond all suspition of artifice, and makes her seem both sprightly and pleasing. As for the form of her countenance, 'tis neither round nor Oval, but being between both, cannot well be defined but by saying, It has the perfections of each. Chry∣silia's eyes are not large, but so sweet, so black, live∣ly, and full of spirit, and glittering, that their beams are almost inevitable. She sometimes moves them in a certain negligent manner that pleases in∣finitely, and on the contrary, sometimes expresses such a pretty haughtiness in them, that makes her rather to be lov'd than feared. Moreover, Chry∣silia's mouth is extreamly graceful, and not like theirs whose lips seem shaped after so close a man∣ner, that one would think they had never smil'd in their lives. She hath little sprightly glances, which speak liveliness, love, and cheerfulness, and her beauty has several charms, which are not sud∣denly,

discovered at once, but appear more or less according to the temper of her mind, and the people with whom she converses. Yet Chrysilia's aspect is extreamly graceful at the first view, though she has the happiness to deserve more than she promises. She has also white and small teeth, a neck admirably well shap'd, handsome arms, and fair hands. But to pass from the charms of her beauty, to those of her wit, I am to tell you she is infinitely ingenious, that she usually less disco∣vers her self to be so, than she really is, though she always speaks very exactly, and never any thing but what is absolutely pertinent, and likewise agreeable. But having no ambition to be univer∣sally praised, she is not sollicitous to lay open the whole beauty of her mind to all sorts of people. So that sometimes she gives her self up to such a reservedness, when she happens in places where the persons do not please her, that if she be con∣strained to speak, the words fall from her mouth so carelesly, that you would think she were desi∣rous not to be understood, for fear any should re∣turn her an answer, so faintly does she pronounce the last syllables of all her words. But on the other side, when Chrysilia is with persons whose con∣versation pleases her, her serious air is cleared up, and a cheerful grace appears in all that she does: She speaks alike handsomly upon all subjects, and there is elegancy, judgment, and all things which she expresses. She has a subtle way of raillery, and reasons exquisitely upon all occasions; in a word, she hath wit sufficient, that were her beau∣ty less, she would notwithstanding be infinitely charming. Moreover, her heart is capable of great tenderness: but having a delicate spirit, which is not too hasty in making a choice, and being na∣turally slow to abandon her self to friendship and intimacy, she is sometimes reproacht for not be∣ing sufficiently endearing to her friends. But her Soul is noble, and which makes her yet more ami∣able, not haughty or ambitious of any thing. She writes also extream handsomly, though she does not make semblance of understanding so much as what handsome-writing is; to conclude, she is un∣questionably so amiable, as I said before, that she may justly assure her self of being loved by whom∣soever she pleases.

As for my part (interposed Plotina) I love her already, and I would not have you tell me, there was yet another more lovely than she with the Princess of Elis, and the Princess of Messenia, for I shall not accord with your opinion. Fear not, Madam, (answered Merigenes) that I will ever make my self a Judge between two amiable per∣sons; 'tis enough for me that I make you their pictures, and leave you the liberty to follow your own inclinations. For indeed never any decisi∣on ought to be made between two beautiful and accomplisht Ladies. That which pleases one does not another; and there is a certain humerousness (of which I am to learn the reason) which some∣times apprehends defects with approbation, and finds pleasingness in things which are not taking. However it be in that respect (said Amilcar) I have great impatience to know Claricia. I beseech you (interrupted Plotina agreeably, speaking to Merige∣nes) if Claricia be a gallant Lady, forbear to draw her pourtrait, for if she happen to please Amilcar, the first time we chance to quarrel, he will fall to love her, and go to Elis to find her; therefore if you apprehend Claricia may make some impression upon his heart, draw a curtain in this part of your Story, least by representing her picture I may have occasion to be jealous. Since you are a per∣son (replyed Amilcar) to whom of all the world jealousie would be least troblesome, and who could best bear it, I should not be very unwilling to excite that passion in you, after having been con∣stant half my life; and therefore I intreat Merige∣nes to begin forthwith the draught of Claricia's picture. And I also (added Valeria) joyn my re∣quests to those of Amilcar's; to which the rest of the company assenting, Merigenes pursued his Story in these words.

The lovely Claricia is unquestionably one of the most charming persons in the world, and whose wit and humor have a particular genius; but be∣fore I engage my self in describing the same to you, I am obliged to speak something concerning her beauty. Claricia therefore is of an extream handsome stature, and of an agreeable proportion, capable of pleasing all the world by a certain free and natural air, which renders her infinitely grace∣ful. Her hair is of the fairest Chest-nut-colour that ever was seen, her visage round, complexion lively, mouth handsome, lips very ruddy, with a little dimple in her chin, extreamly becoming, her eyes are black, sparkling, full of life, and the ayr of her countenance cheerful, pretty and spright∣ly. Together with all these advantages Claricia has also that of a very graceful presence, which is not always found in those that are debonair. Claricia's wit is undoubtedly excellent, and that in a peculiar way, of which few persons are ca∣pable; for it is pleasant, divertising, and complia∣ble to all sorts of people, and chiefly to those of the vulgar rank. She speaks freely, and is much inclinable to laughter; she makes great mirth of a trifile, and loves to raise innocent quarrels amongst her friends; yet her raillery hath never any thing disgustful in it, she loves all kind of delights, writes very gallantly, never is discontented with∣out cause, but is constantly sweet and complacent. She loves walking, conversation, handsom novels, jollities and divertisements of all sorts whatsoever. But in this temper of debonairity, it must be con∣fest that this sprightly Lady hath all the good qua∣lifications of those which are melancholick and in∣genious too; for she has a tender and sensible heart, she is ready to weep with her afflicted friends, she knows how to renounce pleasures when friendship requires it, she is faithful to her friends, and ca∣pable of secrecie and confidence, she never makes a fewd with any person whoever; she is generous and constant in her sentiments; and in a word, is so amiable, that she is loved by the most honora∣ble persons of the Court of both sexes; yea, even such as do not agree with her in reference to con∣dition, humor, genius, interests, all acknowledge, that Claricia is infinitely charming, that she is in∣dued with wit, real goodness, and a thousand qua∣lities worthy of the highest esteem.

I beseech you, generous Merigenes (interrupt∣ed Plotina) proceed no farther, for I find jealousie begin to seise me; Envy I know it cannot be have∣ing never been possessed with any, and I had ra∣ther a hundred times be jealous than envious, though neither of these two qualities be very suta∣ble

to one of honorable sentiments, as also not very pleasing, or commodious. But however it be, proceed forth with to tell us how they lived there during the Truce, which was concluded on∣ly to give the Gallants leisure to attend their love.

I shall obey you, fair Plotina (answered Merige∣nes, without giving Amilcar leisure to speak) and in the first place you may please to know that with∣in a few days Melanthus being accompanyed by all his Court went to Melisaris; that the two Princes∣ses were there also, and that Chrysilia, Claricia, and three other Ladies of eminent beauty were with them, besides several others which went thi∣ther too, so that the conversation was every day very agreeable at the Princess of Elis's Lodgings; that in fair weather they walked abroad sometimes in the tetrassed Gardens I told you of, other times they went in Coaches by the River-side on the way leading to Olymphia; and that all this fair company frequently were in little painted and gilded Boats, amongst those Islets and close Alleys of water I described to you; sometimes when the Sun was down walk't in the Meadows of the greater Islands; sometimes landed to walk under those great and shady Trees, which are on the borders of the For∣rests beyond those Islands, being for the most part diverte I with Musick upon the water. So that during the Truce they may seem to have enjoyed all the pleasures of peace, especially after it had been publisht that the Olympick Games were to be celebrated within fifteen days. For this news caused a continual arrival of Illustrious Strangers from all parts of Greece. There were some of Athens, Corinth, Thebes, Delphos, Sparta, Argos, Megalopo∣lit, and Messene; others came from all parts of Macedonia, and especially from Thessaly. I saw there some of those people that inhabit at the foot of the famous Mountain Pindus, others that dwell on Mount Parnassus, and others near Mount He∣licon, and that of Hymettus. There were some also that came from the streights of Thermopyli, and others from Countreys so remote, that their Language was not understood. So that of all sorts of people that resorted thither, there being none but had a curiosity to see the Princess of Elis, eve∣ry day brought some new strangers, who were worthy persons, and contributed to the pleasures of the society. For though Elismonda was unhappy, yet she was young and fair, and feared least me∣lancholly might be injurious to her beauty. Where∣fore it ought not to be wondered if she gave her self to divertisement, notwithstanding the con∣dition she was in; nor was any thing omitted that might afford her contentement, Melanthus, An∣dronice, Hortensius, Cleontine, Chrysilia, Claricia, Eumenes, and generally all that came to her, em∣ploying all their care thereunto. At other times, those four persons of high quality, who had the liberty to speak to her concerning her affairs, en∣tertained her agreeably with the design they had of making some League during the Olympick Games. The Prince of Cyparissa also, who had found out a means to write to her, gave her great hopes of the same; whence, though she had no affection for that Prince; yet she was well enough pleased with his Letters, because he presumed not to make the least mention of his love to her; and all these considerations rendered her more capable to re∣ceive with pleasure the divertisements which were intended to her. She came even insensibly to have a very tender kindness for Hortensius, and was highly glad to understand that he was of an illustri∣ous descent, and that so many predictions de∣signed him for Empire, because she imagined they might perhaps be accomplisht in the principality of Messenia, But as she was one day discovering her thoughts to Cleontine, this Lady, who was not so well satisfied as Elismonda of the Infallibility of Predictions, recited several Oracles to her which had not been well understood: And believe me Madam (said this discreet person to her) I conceive 'tis a very great temerity in men to en∣deavor to penetrate into the secret counsel of the gods, who give us to understand by the obscurity of their answers, that they are unwilling to have them understood. For these Governors of the World might speak clearly, if they pleased we should be benefited by their Oracles. But there is so great a darkness in futurity (added she) that I will never undertake to pry into it. And besides, what advantage is it to anticipate the misfortunes which must befal us, by the knowledge we desire to have of them, or at least by the fear which such unprofitable curiosity produces to us, which can never render men either more wise, or more hap∣py. The gods have given us prudence to con∣duct our selves, and also that of our friends to counsel us, when our own is dubious concerning any resolution we desire to take: let us not therefore be industrious to torment our selves by seeking to know things which we shall know soon enough if they be designed to befall us. But Cleontine (an∣swered Elismonda) I have no curiosity in reference to what concerns my self, but I cannot refrain from musing on the fate of Hortensius, finding some probability that he may come to rule. For without taking notice of the Predictions concern∣ing him, Fortune has placed him in so great cre∣dit with the Prince of Messenia, that there seems scarce above one step more to advance him to ab∣solute dominion. Alass! Madam (replyed Cleon∣tine) that step is greater than you apprehend; and there is always a vast difference between a Prince and his Favorite. And besides, Hortensius is so generous, that it cannot be feared he should ever commit an action contrary to virtue. But may it not fall out (said Elismonda blushing without knowing why) that the Prince of Messenia may die in the War, and the Princess Andronice, who knows how greatly he is beloved by the people, may marry him? She has both a great esteem, and dearness for him, and moreover is obliged to him; so that I cannot but think Hortensius may possibly one day come to be a Prince. Well Madam, (an∣swered Cleontine) I am of opinion if Hortensius reign not one day in the heart of some fair person, and perhaps in yours, he will never reign in any place; for as for what you say may come to pass there is not much appearance that it should ever, happen. Melanthus, as you see, is enamoured on you, and therefore I conceive he will use all means to end the War by your Mariage; and if during the Olympick Games, the League you are told of, which is your last hope, cannot be effect∣ed; I am persuaded your subjects will constrain you to procure their peace by yielding up your self to him that makes War against you. Ah! Cle∣ontine

(reply'd Elismonda passionately) I had ra∣ther continue my whole life in prison, than ever marry the Prince of Messena. Time perhaps will make you change your resolution (answer'd Cle∣ontine:) but as far as I perceive (added she smi∣ling) you do not think it impossible, but that Hor∣tensius may reign in your heart, since you answer me nothing concerning that. I assure you (said she) I really believe it would be more easie for me to begin to love Hortensius, than to cease ha∣ting Melanthus, though he be very well accom∣plish't. But in brief, he has been the cause of my Fathers death, has made War against me, is vio∣lent and capricious; and there is something in my heart which makes me so averse from him, that though he had never done me any of these mis∣chiefs, I could never affect him. You see, Madam, what sentiments the fair Elismonda had a little be∣fore the Olympick Games, which were this year ce∣lebrated with all the magnificence, that two amo∣rous Princes could add to them; but though Hor∣tensius were not a declared Lover, yet he did not omit to contribute as much thereunto, as his Ri∣vals. 'Tis true, he was so discontented in the bot∣tom of his heart, that he was much troubled to constrain himself; for he lov'd Elismonda with the greatest ardency possible, and yet was resolv'd to continue faithful to his Master. An augmenta∣tion to his grief was, his perceiving the most obli∣ging deportment of Elismonda towards him; and when he was not in his hours of jealousie of the Prince of Cyparissa, he believ'd it perhaps not im∣possible for him to be countenanc'd, did not for∣tune and his virtue place obstacles to his Love. That which tormented him most was, that he wish'd Elismonda could have understood his pas∣sion for her, without his doing any thing contrary to the fidelity which he ought to Melanthus. Ne∣vertheless he reproacht this thought to himself as a Crime, though he were unable to be free from it; and this consideration tormented him more than the other. Things being at this pass, prepa∣rations were made for the offering of a solemn sacrifice in the famous Temple of Jupiter, which is at Olympia, before the commencement of the Olympick Games. At first there was some conte∣station about it; for Melanthus pretended it be∣long'd to him to offer it as Conqueror; and the Prince of Cyparissa had the same pretension, as Com∣mander of the Forces of the Princess of Elis: but at length an expedient was found to satisfie both, which was, that Elismonda should offer it. Yet Hortensius was the person to whom Melanthus com∣mitted the care of the magnificence of the sacri∣fice; which I shall forbear to describe particularly to you, as also that proud Temple of Jupiter, in which is seen a great Statue of Gold, which Cyp∣sellus Prince of Corinth gave to it, together with divers other rich offerings. I shall tell you there∣fore, that this day being the first, in which the Prince of Cyparissa had the liberty of seeing the Princess Elismonda, he came very early to the Temple that he might see her when she arriv'd there: for so was it concluded by the Treaty, though Melanthus affected not that Prince upon several accounts. Now was the curiosity of Hor∣tensius satisfy'd, who desir'd to see this Rival that was unknown to him; but it was to his further torment: for the Prince of Cyparissa appear'd so comely a person to Hortensius, he found him so ge∣nerous when he discours'd with him, he was so magnificent, and moreover, seem'd so amorous of Elismonda, that he could not hinder himself from hating him, and looking upon him with as great hatred as if he had been assur'd he was happy. But making use of the same reason, which assist∣ed him to conceal his passion for Elismonda, he overcame himself so much, as to dissemble the hatred which he bore to the Prince of Cyparissa. I wish, Madam, I were here able only to describe to you the great number of honourable persons which were present at this sacrifice, and the mul∣titude of people I beheld there; that so I might the better make you comprehend the infinite num∣ber of applauses that were made of the beauty of the Princesses, and particularly of that of Elis∣monda, whose lustre partly blemisht the glory of the other fair ones In brief, I can assure you, that though there be three other sorts of famous Games in Greece, yet never was there seen so much of the world together, either at those which are celebra∣ted in the Forrest of Nemaea, or at those of Apollo Pythius, near Delphos, or at those which are cal∣led the Isthmick Games, near Corinth, as were seen about the Temple of Olympia: I say, about the Temple, Madam; because, though that be very large and spacious, yet it could not contain the hundredth part of those who came to be present at this sacrifice. But this multitude ought not to be wondred at, for the Olympick Games are so an∣tient, that they deserve some particular respect, only for their Antiquity. Their original is so re∣mote, that it is dubious; some attributing their institution to Hercules, who, they say, first cele∣brated them in honor of Jupiter, to which others not agreeing, maintain the same to be more anti∣ent than his times. However, they are of great antiquity, and were this year most magnificent. After the sacrifice, the Princesses and the Ladies who follow'd them, enter'd all into stately open Chariots, accompanied by the Princes, and all the men of quality on horseback, to take one turn a∣long the course where the Olympick Games are ce∣lebrated: for 'tis the custom for those who offer the sacrifice, to go thither to see whether it be in a fit condition for the several sorts of Combats and Races, which are to be perform'd upon it. And as this place is the fairest in the world so it may be said, that this promenade was the goodliest ap∣pearance that could be seen. For, Madam before the proud Temple of Jupiter is a great Grove of wild Olive-trees, which, by reason of their great age, make a greater shade than the ordinary Trees of that sort, which serves to refresh those that have run in the Carrier of the Olympick Games. This Carrier is so much the more goodly, in that it lies between four great rows of Trees along the River Alpheus, that at one end of it there is a large place like a semi-circle, in which stands an Altar with Statues, and at the other a Pyramid of white Mar∣ble, supported on four great Globes of red Marble, upon the point of which Pyramid (which serves for a Limit or Goal to those who run) is a Statue of Jupiter unarm'd, whose Eagle holds a Crown of Olive in his beak. So that the prospect of the City of Olympia from this place, the Mount Phi∣laceus which is behind it, the Temple of Jupiter, of which the Dome is very magnificent, the grove

of Olive-trees, a large place, in the middle of which is a stately Fountain, and that fair long Car∣rier beset on each side with trees along the River Alpheus, makes it the goodliest sight in the world; especially when all these places are fill'd with as great number of fair Ladies and handsome persons as I saw there on the day I am speaking of. After this, they return'd to the house of the virtuous Elisante, whither the Prince of Cyparissa, accord∣ing to the liberty permitted him w••nt also, after having saluted Melanthus, who return'd him only four or five words, which he had determin'd of before. But the Princess of Elis shew'd him great∣er kindness; for being oblig'd to him, it behov'd her, though unwilling to give him thanks for ha∣ving hazarded his life for her service, and for his readiness to hazard it again, in case the War should re-commence. On the other side, the Prince ob∣serv'd her so transcendently beautiful this day, that his passion assum'd new force, which he was unable absolutely to hide; and it was so easie to under∣stand by his aspect, his joy, his admiration, and by all his words and actions, that he was amorous of Elismonda, that there was none whose notice it escap'd. Melanthus in the mean while had be∣come desperate seeing him desperate, seeing him so amorous, if the Princess Andronice had not assur'd him that Elismonda did not love him. And I be∣seech, you my dear Sister (said he to her with a low voice) to calm my inquietudes, make an unfaith∣ful Lover of the Prince of Cyparissa. He is alrea∣dy a rebellious Vassal (added he:) and I have a great confidence, that if you please you may bring it to pass, to deliver me from this dangerous Rival. You seem, my Lord, answer'd she, to have too mean an opinion of Elismonda's beauty, as you have too high of mine, if you believe it possible for me to withdraw a Lover from her: and besides, what would you have me do (continued she agree∣ably) after I have sollicited him from her? You should love him (reply'd he) to do Attalus a great spight and me a great service. But, would you that I should love a Prince whom you hate, (demand∣ed she.) Since I hate him (answer'd Melanthus) and fear least Elismonda love him, he must needs be a person of merit; and moreover, according to the sentiments I have at present, if the Prince of Cyparissa lov'd Elismonda no longer, I should also have no longer hatred against him, and I engage to love him, provided he love you. Hortensius at this time came to them to tell Melanthus something requisite for him to be inform'd of; so that Andro∣nice conceiving some pleasantness in the propositi∣on that Love induc'd the Prince of Messena to make to her, she told it smilingly to Hortensius, who at first gusting some pleasure to himself in this thought was very urgent with her to attempt to effect what the Prince Melanthus propounded to her, yet speak∣in such manner as if he had had no other regard, than to the satisfaction of that Prince. But the next moment considering that if the Prince of Cy∣parissa should change his love, Elismonda might be∣come more inclinable to listen to Melanthus, he repented in his mind of the request he had made: till at length the sense of honor overpow'ring all other considerations, he continued his instance a∣greeably to Andronice, that she would make the Prince of Cyparissa her lover. I assure you (an∣swer'd she) that I should find my self much trou∣bled to excite love in a new breast; judge then how I shall be able to do it in one prepossess'd with a great passion for one of the fairest persons of the world. At least (said Melanthus) treat him the most handsomely and obligingly you can, to to the end he may not have the leisure to speak to Elismonda, and I the better opportunity of addres∣sing to her. I shall obey you then (answer'd she) and in order thereunto I shall return to the Prin∣cess of Elis. And accordingly, Madam, she went to propose to the fair Elismonda to go and walk in that great Grove I told you was beyond those Islands, which make those fair watry close Alleys I describ'd to you. To which Elismonda consenting all this noble company enter'd into twelve little Boats. Where Andronice in design to serve the Prince her Brother, acted with such address that the Prince of Cyparissa was constrain'd to enter with her into a Boat, which she took for her self; for Melanthus giving the hand to the Princess of Elis, the Prince of Cyparissa was engag'd to wait upon the Princess Andronice. So that in the Boat of Elismonda, there were with her only Cleontine, the charming Claricia, two other Ladies, Melan∣thus, Hortensius, and my self; and in that of An∣dronice, the virtuous Elisante, the amiable Chrysilia, three other eminent Ladies, the Prince of Cyparissa, and Eumenes: the ten other Boats were fill'd with all the other Ladies, and men of quality that were there. All these little Boats were adorn'd with little Canopies tuck'd up, which did not hinder the Ladies that fill'd them from being seen, who were seated upon rich and magnificent Cushions. But at length this little Fleet wafting gently along, arriv'd beyond the Islands where the Ladies design'd to walk on foot under those great Trees, the thickness of whose umbrage makes a solitary, but the most delightful place in the world. For no houses being within view, it seem'd a kind of pleasant Desart, no other living creatures being seen there but Birds and wild beasts. When all this fair company was landed, and had walk'd a∣while, they were very much surpris'd with a mag∣nificent Collation, presented there upon several Tables in the midst of so great a solitude. All that were present began to extoll the Prince of Messena, for his unexpected gallantry; but he modestly di∣verted the commendation from himself to Horten∣sius, whose contrivance it was, and to whom he had given the care of making it a secret. Elismon∣da, to whom it seem'd a surprising piece of gene∣rosity, was glad she had occasion to ascribe the ac∣knowledgement of it to another than Melanthus. The Prince of Cyparissa was of the same sentiment, jealousie effecting that in his mind, which hatred did in that of Elismonda: so that they both were forward in civil expressions to Hortensius: the Princess of Elis not imagining that she commend∣ed a Lover; nor the Prince of Cyparissa a Rival. But it hapned at the end of the Collation, when they began to walk again, that the Princess Elis∣monda unadvertingly let fall a little Case, in which was her own Picture, which she intended to give the next morning to the Princess Andronice, who requested it of her. My self being sufficiently near her, took it up, with a purpose to render it to her immediately; but Elismonda having gone a little distance from me, and the Case being opened with the fall, I had the leasure to behold her Picture,

which I found perfectly resembling her. View∣ing of it thus attentively, the lovely Claricia, who observ'd what I was doing, came to me, and be∣gan highly to extoll the portrait. The fair Chry∣silia likewise approaching us, did the same; and our forwardness in commending it was so loud, that Elismonda, who was led by the Prince Melan∣thus, looking back, perceiv'd the little Case we were viewing was hers. But for that she would avoid giving occasion to Melanthus, to fall upon the subject of her praises, if he should have seen the Picture, instead of commanding it to be restor'd to her, she only desir'd Cleontine to take care of it, to the end, it might be retur'nd to her when the company had seen it sufficiently. Upon which, proceeding in her walk, all that were present came to behold it, till it pass'd through the hands of the whole company, excepting the Prince of Cyparissa, whom Andronice entertain'd very diligently to please the Prince her Brother. For, being extream∣ly desirous of peace, and not discerning any more compendious and sure way to effect it, than by the marriage of Melanthus and Elismonda, she conceiv'd a great obligation upon her self to promote their love with her utmost endeavors. Melanthus, whose mind was taken up how to discourse of his passion to Elismonda, was not at liberty for any other mat∣ter; besides that, the Prince of Cyparissa having not long since occasion'd him the possession of so many Pictures of Elismonda, the sight of one in her presence could not take off his mind. But as for Hortensius, whose passion was no less ardent, and who wanted the satisfaction of hoping it would ever be known he was a Lover, when he beheld Chrysilia, Claricia, and my self, attentively viewing this portrait, he approach'd to us, and joyn'd his praises with ours. And Elisante also with Agenor, who were discoursing together, co∣ming to see this Picture which I had already suf∣ficiently beheld, I desir'd Cleontine she would please to remember the charge the Princess of Elis had laid upon her concerning it. After which I betook my self to walk with Chrysilia and Claricia, with∣out further thoughts of the Picture. But soon af∣ter Elismonda desiring to be freed of the particular conversation of Melanthus, and calling Cleontine, Chrysilia, and Claricia to her, the first of them de∣sir'd those in whose hands the Picture was, that when they had sufficiently lookt upon it, they would deliver it to Eumenes, that he might render it to her self. But it happened that the Picture being left in the hands of Hortensius, Eumenes, who was not very solicitous about it, went to speak to some Ladies that call'd him; for the liberty in such conversations as these, being very arbitrarious, eve∣ry one follow'd his own inclination. Whilst this fair company was thus dispers'd into several little parties, Hortensius, whose mind was possest with a thousand different thoughts, walk'd for some time alone, and that so carelesly, that he was gone a good distance from the rest before he took notice of his own solitude, when opening the little Pict∣ure Case, he felt such a violent desire in himself to keep it, and so to serve himself of it, that it might be an occasion of making the Princess Elismonda understand, there was one in the world ena∣mour'd on her, that had never discover'd so much, that a thought coming into his mind he might make this advantage of it; he was not able to resist the temptation, but began forth with to bethink him∣self how he might bring it about. He instantly per∣ceiv'd all the consequences that could ensue upon his project, and in a moment seeking all the reme∣dies to the inconveniencies which he foresaw, be∣liev'd he had found them; and so only consider'd how he might effect his design. But in order to make it more intelligible to you, you must know that Hortensius writ two hands so different, that it could never be imagin'd they could both proceed from the same person. The cause of which was this, for that he to whose trust his Father had com∣mitted him at his departure from Veii, having learnt Greek in Sicily from one of Pythagoras's Disciples, had at first himself taught him to write Greek; and afterwards going to live at Corinth, put him to a Master, who had perfectly made him change his Character. Now Hortensius conceiving he might both keep the Picture, inform Elismonda that she had a conceal'd Lover, and raise a jealousie in his Rivals if they understood the matter, and satisfie himself, took the picture handsomely out of the Case in which it was, and with a pastil which he always caried with him, writ four Verses in it, which he compos'd immediately, and I shall re∣peat to you by and by, and that in the Character which he had almost wholly dis-us'd; after which he return'd, and rejoyn'd himself with the compa∣ny. He undertook this discourse the more confi∣dently, for that night was drawing on, and there∣fore he believ'd that the picture would not be much enquir'd after, before he deliver'd it to Eumenes, and he to Cleontine, and Cleontine to Elismonda; whereby perhaps the Princess might not perceive the artifice that was put upon her before the next morning. However Hortensius, who had a great confidence in Eumenes, sought him out, and re∣quested him to cause the picture Case, which he deliver'd him, to be render'd into the hands of Cle∣ontine, without her knowing that it had been any time in his: which was very easie for him to do, by reason of the great number of persons which had taken the picture from one another to view it. Hortensius gave this charge to Eumenes with such earnestness, that he perceiv'd well it was not sea∣sonable to enquire the reason which induc'd him to desire this of him; for he clos'd his hand in de∣livering the Case to him, and presently left him, to go and mingle with the rest of the company, who began now to draw towards the Boats, Eumenes was nevertheless resolv'd not to deliver this Case, without at least endeavouring to conjecture what had oblig'd Hortensius to speak to him in that man∣ner; but Elismonda at the same time remembring her self of her Picture, call'd for it to Cleontine; upon which, Cleontine went to Eumenes to require the same from him. I assure you (said he, percei∣ving she saw it in his hands) that I much repent me of having accepted the Commission you gave me of taking charge of it; for since you went from me, I knew not what was become of it for an hour together, and 'tis but a moment ago that I be∣liev'd it was lost; but at length a man whom I knew not, deliver'd it to me to restore it to you. Elismonda over-hearing these words of Eumenes to Cleontine, was in fear lest her picture might have been spoil'd, and taking the Case hastily, she told the Princess of Andronice, that it was for her inte∣rest that she was so anxious about it. For I have

had a design (continued she) to give you this picture, which is retriv'd after an hours loss. While Elismonda was speaking this, Melanthus, the Prince of Cyparissa, and Hortensius stood about her, and beheld how she opened the Case with precipitation: But though there was not much day light left, yet she soon spied that her picture was gone, and read these four Verses in the vacant place.

My theft no Crime, but Justice is, First injur'd on your part: I'll then return your Picture back, When you restore my heart.

As Elismonda is uncapable to repress the first mo∣tions which she resents upon any surprising occasi∣on, she could not conceal her astonishment, but declar'd the loss of her Picture to all the company. You may easily judge what a strange adventure this seem'd, and how much Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa were amaz'd at it. The Prince of Messena was also very much discontented at the loss, and Elismonda seem'd to be in such trouble for it, that it was sufficiently apparent she did not conjecture who had bereav'd her of her picture, and made the Verses which she found written in the place of it, the Character being wholly un∣known to her. As for Hortensius, he carried him∣self so cautiously, that he was not suspected in the least. In the mean while the day being at an end, it was requisite for them to think of taking Boat. But Melanthus being excited by a jealous appre∣hension, to find out who it was had taken away Elismonda's picture, and written the four Verses, commanded that all the persons of quality that were in that place, should not depart from him when they were landed, but follow him into Eli∣sante's house. For, (said he with a low voice to Hortensius) the presumptuous person that took a∣way the picture, also made and writ the Verses we see here at the same time, and therefore it must of necessity be some one amongst us; so that when the Princess is return'd back, it will be a good way for her to command all that were of our company to write something in her presence, to the end, every ones hand may be compar'd with the Character of the Verses. By this means, we shall come to dis∣cover who 'tis has been so rash to commit such a bold extravagance: for if he write, he will be in∣fallibly convicted; and if he refuse to write, his detractation will be an evidence against him; if he follow us not to Elisante's house, his absence will speak him guilty; and if he go about to counter∣feit another hand, the fraud will be apparent. I could if I were so pleas'd, cause a search to be made for this lost picture, but there are so many persons of quality present, that it cannot be done without disgust to the innocent; and moreover, it is so little, that it may easily escape the search, and the course would so prove ineffectual. Hortensius approving the intention of Melanthus, the Prince communicated the same secretly to the fair Elis∣monda and Andronice, who liking the expedient made haste to return to their Boats in the same or∣der that they came. But by the prudent care of Hortensius, who nevertheless ascrib'd all the honor to Melanthus, they return'd in the most magnifi∣cent manner imaginable: for while this fair com∣pany were walking in the great Grove beyond the Island, Lamps were plac'd upon all the Willows which grew upon the banks; so that all these co∣ver'd Alleys being illuminated by two rows of Lamps, the light multiplying it self in the water, irradiated the stream with Golden beams, which in some places resembling, fluctuating flames, by rea∣son of the agitation of the Water, made a shew, than which nothing could be imagin'd more re∣splendent and delightful, especially at such places where those Channels cross'd one another. For on what side soever they cast their eyes, these natu∣ral Canopies being enlightned by the Lamps, which reflected from either Bank upon the Water, caus'd a kind of admiration accompanied with pleasure, surpassing all expression. Which was further en∣creas'd by the hearing of a rare concent of voices on the right hand, as this little Fleet was passing between the two great Islands, and on the other side a concent of Instruments answering them. I cannot suddenly call to mind the verses which were sung there in praise of the Princess Elismon∣da, but I remember the invention was extream handsome; for it was feign'd that the River Alphe∣us boasted of being more glorious, by carrying Elismonda on its stream, than the Sea ought to be for the birth of the Mother of Love; all that I am able to tell you of it, is, that there was a Song, of which all the Coupl•••• ended with this Verse,

If it be not Venus, 'tis Arethusa.

And another, which equally suted to Melanthus and Hortensius, and ended thus,

Go my hearts Envoys, tender sighs make hast, And mix your breath with gentle Zephyr's blast. Then near that fair one, if you chance to fly, Whisper unto her, 'tis for her I dye.

But having at length ended so agreeable a voy∣age, the fair company landed before Elisantes's house, into which, according to the order of the Prince of Messena all the persons of quality that had been of this Promenade, accompanied the Princesses. As soon as they came into a great Hall, Melanthus caus'd all the men to stand round a Ja∣sper Table, near which were the two Princesses, and behind them Elisante, Cleontine, Chrysilia, and Claricia. The Prince of Messena having caus'd writing Tables to be brought, expected the com∣mands of Elismonda; who to execute what was resolv'd on, told the whole company, and the Prince also, that it was requir'd every one should write something in those Tablets: Whereupon Me∣lanthus beginning first, only to shew example to the rest, writ these words, which signify'd the im∣petuosity of his humor;

Whosoever my Rival be, I shall hate him.

And next the Prince of Cyparissa writ that which follows, in spight of the Menace of Melanthus;

The crime in question is so singular, that I wish I were the Author of it.

After whom, Hortensius making use of the Cha∣racter he generally serv'd himself with, which was

not the same with that in which he had writ the four Verses, subscrib'd these words;

He must be very amorous and confident that has committed such a prank.

Eumenes next taking up the style, writ these words;

Whoever the Criminal be, he deserves to be pardon'd, provided he do not discover him∣self.

After him, I was call'd to the Tablet, and writ only these words;

Being incapable to love without hope, I care not for being the Criminal that is sought after.

I should be too tedious, if I should tell you all that was written afterwards, by the several hono∣rable persons that were present; besides that, there were many of them who only writ their own names, or that of Elismonda. But, in conclusion, it was found, that none of all these hands resem∣bled that in which the four Verses were written; and which was strange, the character which Hor∣tensius writ at this time, was less like that of the Verses, than any of all the rest, though he was the person that had written them; for that in the Picture Case was a very small hand, and the other which was his ordinary way of writing, suffici∣ently great. So that all the company, except∣ing Hortensius and Eumenes, were in a strange perplexity. But perhaps (said Andronice) 'tis a trick of some of the Ladies, or possibly some of these noble Personages may have caus'd one of them to write the Verses; for there are some Wo∣men whose hand is not distinguishable from that of men. To omit no inquiry then, (said the Prince of Cyparissa) it is requisite that all the Ladies pre∣sent write too, as well as the men. Elismonda ap∣proving what Andronice said, all the Ladies writ also, together with the Princess Andronice; but when it came to the fair Claricia, she thought to amuse the company, and being of a debonair and pleasant humour, she look'd upon the four Verses as they lay upon the Table, and subtily endeavour'd to imitate the hand. Upon which, Elismonda im∣mediately perceiving some imperfect resemblance between the two Characters, believ'd it was she that had plaid this prank, and conceiv'd the diffe∣rence there seem'd between them, proceeded only from her endeavouring to disguise her own. And this caus'd a very pleasant contest for about a quar∣ter of an hour: till at length upon viewing the writing more curiously, and Claricia's sincere pro∣testation, and writing without counterfeiting, none could imagine the least conjecture of the truth. Thus being wholly at a loss, there was such a plea∣sant confusion among them, that they all beheld one another with amazement. If Eumenes had been suspected by the Prince of Messena, he might have question'd him whether he knew not some∣thing more concerning this accident than he had declar'd; but he had no suspicion at all of him; and moreover, none of the persons of quality that had been at the walk in the Grove, were found mis∣sing from the company. Whence Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa concluded they had a Rival in the same place they were in, whom yet they could not discover. Elismonda, for her particu∣lar, had so great a curiosity to know who had ta∣ken her Picture, that she could not conceal it; but though this curiosity of hers was reasonable, Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa were some∣thing dissatisfy'd, because it seem'd to them, she appear'd not sufficiently in choler for the loss. As for Hortensius, he was very glad to perceive how desirous she was of knowing who this hidden Lo∣ver should be: but his generosity coming to the assistance of his reason, he would rather have dy'd than that Melanthus should have known he had Elismonda's Picture, and it may be he would not that the Princess of Elis should have under∣stood it with certainty. But he ardently wisht, she would at least have suspected him a little in the se∣crecy of her thoughts, without discovering it to any person. There were also some moments in which he accus'd himself of folly; for having taken such an odd course for consolation to his infelicity. But at last the excess of his passion made him ap∣prehend some kind of pleasure in thinking Elismon∣da understood she had another Lover beside the Prince of Messena and the Prince of Cyparissa; and he was not very sorry for the perplexity and in∣quietude he occasion'd to those two Princes, though he was resolv'd always to serve the first of them faithfully. In the mean time, this adventure was so cruelly tormenting to Melanthus, and rais'd in him a curiosity so full of jealousie, that he made it his chief business afterwards to observe diligently the deportment of all the honourable personages that had been in that days entertainment. For though he believ'd none of them could pretend to the possession of Elismonda, yet he bore no small hatred to this unknown Rival, and discover'd as much to Hortensius, not imagining that the object of his hatred and his friendship, were united in one and the same person. For being Hortensius serv'd his interests faithfully in his Courtship of Elismonda, he found no cause to suspect him. That which caus'd Hortensius to act in this manner, with the less scruple, was, that he apprehended reasons of State might require Elismonda to marry Melan∣thus. But though he acquitted himself with fide∣lity of whatsoever trust that Prince reposed in him, in order to the success of his design; yet he was glad to see that according to all appearances, the Princess would never be brought to comply with his desires; and he accounted himself happy in knowing she had both esteem and friendship for him, and seeing himself equally endear'd to two Princesses so accomplish'd as Elismonda & Andronice: But when Eumenes, after they were retir'd in pri∣vate, spoke to him of the adventure of the Picture, he reprov'd him friendly; And, What intended you to your self (said he to him seriously) in ex∣posing your self and me also to danger? Had I be∣liev'd I should have brought you into danger (an∣swer'd Hortensius) I would never have commit∣ted this odd prank. And since, my dear Eumenes (continued he) you know the secret of my heart, and have understood I lov'd Elismonda before my self, having discover'd it before I knew I did so, you may easily conjecture how unhappy I am, who have taken so strange a course for my consolation.

But I beseech you do not suspect me of intend∣ing ever to betray my Master. No, Eumenes, I will betray my own love for his interest, and ra∣ther lose my life than commit an unworthiness. If the War did not detain me here, and I could with honor forsake my Prince so long as he has his sword in his hand, I should undoubtedly do it, rather than be engag'd in such a difficulty as doing service to a Rival with his Mistress. But for that this cannot be, I shall serve him faithfully in the pretensions he hath to Elismonda, in spight of all the passion I have for her. If this Princesses rigor towards Melanthus ceases, I confess ingenuously, I find not my soul firm enough to be a witness of his felicity; but as soon as I should see him in a condition of being happy, I should betake my self to wander about the world, as the most unfortu∣nate of men. I should together forsake my Master and my Mistress, and my Fortune; and giving o∣ver all care of my Love, go seek my death, with∣out discovering the cause of it to any other but your self. But if Elismonda continue firm in her resolution of not marrying Melanthus, I shall then endeavour to do the Princess service with him, to the utmost of my power, lest he changing his Love into hatred, treat her rigorously; and I shall adore her all my life in secret, without knowing what course to take with my passion. Thus, my dear Eumenes (continued he) you see the naked sentiments of my Soul, which I intreat you not to endeavour to alter; for I well know your reason will not be able to do that, to which my own has been ineffectual. Whilst Hortensius was reason∣ing in this manner with Eumenes, Elismonda being retir'd at night, call'd Cleontine into her Closet, and began to speak to her about the adventure of her Picture, seeking to conjecture who might have had such boldness to detain it. For my part (said Cleontine to her) I love not to seek that which I cannot find; but I would only know, Who you would be contented were the thief. But, Cleon∣tine (answer'd she smiling) if I were to wish any thing, I would wish this accident had never fallen out. I have told you, Madam, already (re∣plyed Cleontine) that I care not to have such an unprofitable curiosity; and so you may judge; I as little affect a wish or desire, that serves to no pur∣pose. Therefore take matters in the state they are in, and do me the favour to tell me, whether you would have this prank committed by Melan∣thus, or by the Prince of Cyparissa, or by Hortensius, or by some other. I hate the first too much (an∣swer'd Elismonda) and I have too great an aver∣sion from the second, to wish him guilty of this subtle deceit; and perhaps I love the third too well to desire he were my Lover. For indeed I would not that Hortensius were unhappy; and he must assuredly be so, in case he loves me. If he could know what you say concerning him, Ma∣dam (reply'd Cleontine) he were not much to be pittied. I assure you (said the Princess blushing) that though I am not over well skill'd in love, I believe that friendship is no great consolation to a Lover. You speak so well what you are minded (answer'd Cleontine, smiling) that I believe you understand more in Love than you imagine. Alas Cleontine! (reply'd she, smiling also) who do you think should have taught me? He that teach∣es Nightingals to sing so well in the Spring (an∣swer'd she) may perhaps have taught you to speak after the manner you do. However it be (reply'd Elismonda) I find it sufficient that I am Melan∣thus's prisoner, without engaging my heart to be no longer free at all; but I have a confidence 'tis still my own, and will be so for ever. This, Madam, was the conversation of Elismonda and Cleontine. But the next morning when the Prince of Messina, and the Prince of Cyparissa were busied in the choice of Judges, which were to preside at the Olympick Games, Hortensius being desirous to gain a glory absolutely uninteressed, would not concern him∣self in the affair. And therefore he went to spend part of the afternoon with the Princess Elismonda, who had then no other company but Cleontine, the other Ladies being gone to the apartment of the Princess Andronice, or that of the virtuous Elisante, with intention to come back soon after to the Prin∣cess of Elis. Now the adventure of the preceding day being yet too fresh to be silenc'd, Elismonda, after the first civilities, ask'd Hortensius, Who he suspected to have taken away her picture, and made those four Verses, For, in brief, (said she pleasantly, retorting them upon the instant)

Knew I what Criminal hand it was Did this injurious part; If he'd restore my Picture back, I'd render him his heart.

Ah! Madam (answer'd Hortensius) did I know that unhappy person who loves you, without daring to discover himself, I think I should con∣ceal him from you, after what you have said; for I look upon him as sufficiently punisht for the boldness he has to love you, and to love you as∣suredly with very little hope, without besides en∣dangering him to be constrain'd to take back his heart, and restore you your picture. And more∣over, Madam (continued he) because there is no appearance this Lover can do any prejudice to the Prince whom I serve, I conceive the compassion I have of him is not criminal. I assure you (an∣swer'd she hastily) Whoever that Unknown be, he is more in favor with me, than the Prince Melan∣thus can ever be, in quality of a Lover. But, Ma∣dam, said he, would you be contented that Un∣known knew what you say concerning him? What I have said, (answer'd she) being rather an effect of my hatred against Melanthus, than kindness to∣wards him, I should not much care if he did. But, truly if I knew who he were, it would be ano∣ther case, and I should keep my self to the four Verses, which I retorted but now almost, with∣out thinking what I was saying. Hortensius fear∣ing to speak more of the matter than she was wil∣ling, handsomly chang'd the discourse, and de∣manded of the Princess, why she hated a Prince so resolvedly, who had ceas'd being her enemy, and was become her Lover, who treated her so re∣spectfully, and with whom also she liv'd in terms of great civility. As for the civility I have for him, answer'd she, he owes it to my prudence, to the counsel of Cleontine, and to yours: but for my hatred, it proceeds from his injustice. For if he repent of what he has done, why does he not return into Messena? why does he not restore me to my liberty, and put Elis into my power, and

leave me in peace? But Madam, (reply'd Hor∣tensius, who in the bottom of his heart, gave her thanks for this her rigor) if you speak at this rate while you are in the power of the Prince of Mes∣sena, how would you speak if you were free? And you seem not to consider, that the interest of his Love is a more powerful inducement to make War upon you, retain his conquests, and keep you under guard, than his ambition it self. Ah Hortensius (said Elismonda, without answer∣ing to what he had spoken) as often as I think how insensibly you have engag'd me to bear a friendship towards you, and consider, that at the end of the truce you will become my enemy, and draw your sword against those that defend my interest, I am even ready to die, under the neces∣sary desire of hating you, as well as Melanthus. But Madam (answer'd Hortensius) I shall never be your enemy. 'Tis Fortune apparently, that hath cast me into the interests contrary to yours; but nevertheless, I shall not forbear to assure you, that I make a vow to honor you all my life, and to respect you in a manner so full of zeal, that even when I shall be in the Army of your enemies, I shall have more thoughts of veneration for you, than all your Subjects and Friends too, can ever be capable of. Hortensius spoke these words with so passionate an air, without designing to do so, that Elismonda blusht at them; and Cleontine, who had all this while been silent, seeing the Princess a lit∣tle perplex'd what to answer, interpos'd, and with∣out dissembling, Madam, said he, you may be said to be happy in your enemies; for Melanthus treats you, as if you were not such, and Hortensius ex∣presses as much dearness to you, as if he had been born your Subject, and always your Friend. Horten- was going to answer Cleontine, when Andronice, accompanied with the fair Chrysilia, the lovely Claricia, Eumenes, and my self, enter'd into the Princess of Elis's chamber, and interrupted that con∣versation to begin another more general, yet very agreeable: for you must know there had been born a contest between the Princess Andronice, Chrysilia, Claricia, and me, which could not be determin'd: So that it was agreed to refer the same to the judgement of the Princess of Elis, Cleontine, and Hortensius, who we knew were with her. Andro∣nice was no sooner in the chamber of the fair Elis∣monda, but she told her, there was a great dispute between Claricia and me. I conceive (answer'd the Princess) those two persons minds are suffici∣ently concordant; but because I cannot doubt of what you say, be pleas'd to tell me the subject of their contestation. Though the Princess of Messena (said Claricia) be an impartial person, and speaks very equitably without prejudice against me, yet I should be desirous to tell you the cause of their dispute my self. For indeed (proceeded she say∣ing) she may perhaps make some small distincti∣on between a very accomplisht man, and one of the contrary Sex, not wholly uningenious, which would not be to my advantage. It would be re∣quisite to have more merit than I dare own (an∣swer'd I) to induce the Princess of Messena to do you an injustice. However it be (said Andronice) I am wlling that Claricia tell the Princess Elis∣monda the subject of her dispute. Be pleas'd then to know, Madam (said Claricia pleasantly) that the Olympick Games being now as universal a mat∣ter of discourse, as great cold in winter, or great heat in summer, I began to speak concerning them as others do; for since 'tis the custom, it ought to be follow'd. But for that I conceiv'd a little pleasantness alwaies enlivens conversation, I said upon occasion of the Olympick Games, that not doubting but there were very many Lovers, a∣mongst those who aspire to win the prize, I pitty them for the inquietude they would be possess'd with, by their anxious incertainty of victory. This leading me to speak concerning hope and fear, it was contented that of these two passions, hope afforded more joy than fear does sadness. Upon which, the difference was examin'd between a hope proceeding from Ambition, and a hope pro∣ceeding from Love, to know which was the most sweet and pleasing. But after some debate it was concluded, that these two sorts of hope were more or less sweet, according to the inclination of the persons possess'd by them, and that an ambitious man, was more delighted with the hope of making a great Fortune, than with that of being lov'd by his Mistriss; but that one without ambition, and very amorous, was more pleas'd with hoping to be lov'd, than with hoping to be rich. It was also agreed, that a Lover without ambition, who hopes to be lov'd again, resents a sweeter delectation: and an ambitious person without Love, a pleasure more unquiet and less charming. But passing ea∣sily from one thing to another, we came at length to enquire which gives the greatest pleasure, ei∣ther the remembrance of favours past, or the hope of favours to come; and this was the point, upon which Merigenes and I could not agree. For I confess, the remembrance of any thing that has been offensive, is troublesome to me, and that of a past delight gives me nothing but regret, because I no longer taste the pleasure of it. As for hope, it flatters and charms me; and to such as know how to use it aright, it gives a satisfaction in ho∣ping pleasures which never come to effect; judge therefore what a lover must do in comparison with me, who have no other object of my hope, but some delightful entertainment of walking, a con∣versation that pleases me, Musick, a Collation, or some other like divertisement. For my part, (said the Princess Elismonda) I declare my self for Hope. You give your judgement too soon for an equita∣ble person (answer'd I) for you have not yet heard my reasons. If after I have heard them (reply'd Elismonda) you make me change my o∣pinion, you will have the greater glory: there∣fore I desire you to declare all you have to say in defence of your sentiment, and I also request the whole company to pronounce their judgements upon the question. I desire your excuse, Madam, (said Hortensius) I never had any delightful passage in my whole life to remember; at present also I have no hope, nor ever shall, and therefore I am unfit to speak in this case. How can you know (demanded Claricia) that you shall never hope for any thing while you live? If it be so (added the Princess Andronice) Hortensius believes he shall never love during his life; or else he must place his affections so high, that he cannot think Love will ever render justice to his merit. Hor∣tensius blusht at the discourse of the Princess of Messena, which Elismonda observing, blusht like∣wise, without knowing what reason caus'd her to

do so. However it be, (answer'd Hortensius recollecting himself a little) I shall not decline telling you what I imagine, though I have expe∣rienced neither of these two sentiments, and love has never given me but desires without hope, fear, and sadness. I thought (said the charming Chrysilia, with a modest but admirable graceful smile) it was not possible to have desires with∣out hope. For my part, (answered I immediate∣ly) I am of opinion, we may desire things we hope not for, though ordinarily desires and hopes are inseparable. But that which I undertake to defend, is, that nothing is so sweet as the remem∣brance of a favor received from a person whom we love; for to distinguish things aright, when I speak in this manner, I am not to be understood of a limited and finite love, since indeed, though the memory of all pleasures has ever something of sweetness in it, yet this kind of delectation has nothing in it of life and picquantness, nothing that moves the Soul, and nothing that trans∣ports the heart. But when the mind is possessed with the remembrance of a favor received, and that may still be received, I hold that if a Lover does not resent more joy in remembring it, than when he did but barely hope it, he loves not with a sufficient ardency. But do not you observe (an∣swered Claricia,) that according to your own words, 'tis the hope of the future that makes you resent the pleasure of what is past, since you say your self, that when you can no longer enjoy the same favor which you call to mind, you have not the same transport of joy as when you have in your memory a thing which is arrived to you, and which may still be continued hereafter? But that which causes this to be so, (replyed I) is, that as Life capacitates the body with sense, so Love ani∣mates the Soul and the mind, and gives it as it were another life, which causes us to apprehend all things with a quicker sense, so that we may affirm a man to have a paralytical Soul (as I may so speak) when he is absolutely devoid of Love; since 'tis most true, he has but a half sense of things which a Lover perfectly apprehends. For my part (said Hortensius) as ignorant as I am, by my own experience both of the pleasures arriving from hope of the future, and of these which are gusted in the remembrance of what is past, I ac∣cord with the opinion of Merigenes, that a Lover who finds more pleasure in hoping a good, than he does afterwards in remembring the good which he has already possessed, is absolutely deficient in Love. For otherwise, 'tis as much positively to affirm, that he has found less than he expected, than he fancied a satisfaction to himself which he has not met with, that the possession of what he desired has lessened the passion which lead him to desire it; and that he loves that better which he has not, than that which he enjoys. But in my opinion, in a perfect affection a favor obtained by a Lover, ought to be more dear and agreeable to him, than while he only desired it, and the re∣membrance more sweet, than the hope. Nor is it necessary, that he have a possibility of obtaining the same favor a second time, 'tis sufficient that he has a perpetual interest in the heart of her that granted it to him, to make the memory of it agree∣able. For I believe that a man who has the hap∣piness to be loved where he loves, and to have received some dear testimonies of that affection, may boldly defie Fortune, since he is secured of a Megazin of pleasures, which he may enjoy when he pleases, upon which she has no power. Hope, as sweet as it is, promises nothing but doubtfully; pleasures to come, are uncertain; present fruiti∣ons, may be disturbed by a thousand accidents; but pleasures past, are truly our own. We enjoy them in all places; the prison it self cannot hin∣der a Lover, from recalling some of those happy moments, which making a powerful impression in the memory, are eternally indelible. These in∣nocent delights are tasted even in the presence of Rivals; and to speak the verity of the thing, the remembrance of pleasures multiplies them, and in multipl••ing them cherishes the Love that produces them, and augments the felicity of him that loves, since the greatest pleasure of this passion, consists principally in loving. I grant you, (said Claricia) that the remembrance of pleasures multiplyes them, but you must also acknowledge with me, that hope encreases them; that the Idea of a favor is a thing that appears somewhat greater than the fa∣vor it self, and that a Lover who hopes, and has a little of imagination, fancies some great pleasure in entertaining his Mistress solely to himself, than she can bless him with when he comes to entertain her.

I once knew a man who after having loved an amiable person for a long time, took up a conceit of obtaining the favor of her, to give him a private audience. He was a sufficient long time before he could oblige her to it, till at length when she had promised it him, and there needed no more, but to find out means for a converss with freedom, he began to enjoy all the sweetness of hope; for you may well judge that a Lady who condescends to an assignation of this nature, does not hate him to whom she grants it. But at last, it was resolved this Lover should meet his Mistress in Garden, in a close walk, and by the side of a Fountain, where there were seats of green moss; he was two days entertaining him∣self with this sweet hope, during which he en∣joyed a thousand pleasures. He imagined a hun∣dred things to tell this fair person whom he loved, and made himself the pleasing'st answers in the world; he believed the two hours this audience was to last, would be infinitely too narrow a time for him to express all his thoughts. And yet afterwards I brought him to confess, that when he was with his Mistress, he scarce knew what to say to her, and their discourse was very spa∣ring and barren. But lovely Claricia (answered Eumenes, who had not yet spoken) if this Lover was truly such, his silence was far better than his words, and the confusion of his mind abundant∣ly more sweet than all the order of his discourses could have been. I shall not scruple to affirm, in preferrence of that sweetness which the remem∣brance of favors affords, that not only this kind of pleasure is a more perfect one than that of hope, which is oftentimes diminished by fear; but that sometimes the remembrance of a favor that is some∣thing particular, gives a more real contentment than the favor it self, at the very time it is received. For a Lover, who after a long severe treatment, comes of a sudden to understand from the mouth of his Mistress that he is loved by her, and to

receive some kind testimony of that affection, will resent a joy so surprising, that his Soul not being able to support it, he cannot but imperfectly em∣brace it. Transport in Love, is a thing that so confounds the sentiments of the heart, and so disorders the imagination and reason, that we sometimes apprehend things which we see not; and indeed we may think an amorous Transport has something of distemper or madness in it, which through the excess of Love that causes it, takes away a part of the sweetness that fills the heart of a Lover. And to tell you all I think, I am of opinion, that as there are sorrows which we feel more sensibly sometime after we have began to endure them, than when they afflict us first; so there are also pleasures, of which we are more sensible by the remembrance we have of them than in the first perception. For great sorrows, and great joys, oftentimes intercept and suspend the use of reason, and even the use of sense too. As for hope, (added he,) I look upon it as some young giddy headed girl, that believes all that is said to her, provided it sooth her up, that has only imagination and no judgment, which is di∣verted with chimera's, which takes true for false, and false for true, which upon slight probabilities, foresees a multitude of pleasures that are impossi∣ble; and lastly, to a passion which though it be bold to promise it self all in the future, does not cease to be timerous, and abandons the heart of a Lover to fear, and a misdoubting of the least con∣cernments. A Lover thus qualified knows not whether he ought to smile or weep, and incertain∣ty, which is the faithful companion of hope, of∣tentimes disturbs the joy which that gives him. You have well made this Picture, Eumenes (cryed the fair Elismonda) like a person that understood the nature of hope experimentally. 'Tis true, (re∣plyed Chrysilia) 'tis very agreeable, and I think this pourtrait well resembles hope. Alass! (said Claricia) I fear it resembles it but too well, and that the company believes Merigenes has the ad∣vantage in our dispute. Yet I conceive, were I minded to speak all I think, I could make him acknowledge, that hope may be considered as the Spring time of Love: and that as the season is more delightful than Autumn, although it have nothing but Flowers and the latter fruits; so it will be no error to maintain, that the hope of a fa∣vor is more sweet than the remembrance of one past can possibly be. For if fear sometimes dimini∣shes its pleasure; desire redoubles and enlivens it, and I am so perswaded of what I say, that though I should want reasons to make good my opinion, yet I should not change my judgment, because I should conceive the disadvantage would be in the greatness of their wit, against whom I con∣tend, and the meanness of my own, not in the justness of their cause. As Claricia was speaking this, the prudent Elisante came to tell the Prin∣cess, that the Judges were at length chosen which were to preside at the Olympick Games, and that it was concluded the Princess Elismonda should be the person, by whose hands the Victors heads should be crowned with the Olive wreaths. For 'tis remarkable in all the several Games of Greece, that the desire only of glory animates all that go thither. The reward of those that carry the prize at the Olympick Games, is, as I told you, only a Crown of Olive; that in the Isthmick Games, of Pine, in those of Naemea, one of Smallage, and in those that are celebrated near Delphos, Fruits consecrated to Apollo. 'Tis true, there are signal priviledges for them that carry the prise at the Olympick Games three years together: for he that gains this glory, has a Statue erected to him, and at Sparta, a man that has overcome but once, has the honor to fight in the first rank, in the head of the Battallion, and in sight of the King. So that glory being that which excites all those to encounter who go to the Olympick Games, it may be undoubtedly affirmed, there are seen the bravest persons of the World. I forgot to tell you Madam, another remarkable thing; which is, that while the Olympick Games are celebrated, all the several Nations of Greece have liberty to resort thither, Friends and Enemies are equally admitted; no per∣son during that time can be arrested for any crime passed, none may revenge himself of an injury, or disturb the ceremony by committing any violence, unless upon such as do disturb it; for in this case, such persons are punisht as offend irrespectfully du∣ring a ceremony that relates to Religion. As for the exercises of these Games, they are of several sorts, and in every one the Victor is crowned, but I shall omit to tell you of the Racing, Wrastling, and some others, and content my self only to in∣form you of the Races of Horses and Chariots; the description of which, is more proper to be made to Ladies than all the other exercises, which are extreamly violent. But I must acquaint you, Madam, in the first place, with a ceremony which is observed after the Combattants are chosen, and to that end, you must know, that the next morn∣ing after this conversation concerning Hope, the Princesses came again before the Temple of Jupiter, where this ceremony is performed. I conceive you remember I told you, there is there a Grove of wild Olive trees, and a large vacant place in the middle of it, where there stands a magnificent Fountain. On the day designed to match the Com∣battants, scaffolds are erected, where the Judges sit on one side, and the Ladies on the right hand of them; and in the middle is a half circle, where all the Combattants stand, having their fa∣ces towards the Temple, and being attired with all possible magnificence. About this place are Lists or rails erected to hinder the confusion of the peo∣ple; at the foot of the Scaffold of the Judges, are the Heralds, who order the ceremony. Now, ima∣gine, Madam, all things in this posture, and con∣ceive Elismonda, Andronice, Cleontine, Chrysilia, Claricia, and all the other Ladies richly drest, up∣on a stately Scaffold, covered with a great Pavili∣on, fastned to great Trees, and tucked up on the sides, Represent to your self also, that you saw the goodliest Men in the World, most magnificent∣ly cloathed, and standing in that half-circle with∣out any order of condition. For Melanthus, who after the example of Hercules, would be one of the number of the Combattants, stood near a La∣conian, who only of all the company was mean∣ly habited; The Prince of Cyparissa, who was another, stood near a man of Athens, who was of no great quality; and Hortensius above Melan∣thus, on the other side of the Laconian I spoke of. For my part, being not born in a Countrey where these Games are in use, I was of the number of

spectators. All the Combattants being thus ranged, they made a prayer to Jupiter, but though it be the custom to look towards the Temple of that god, yet Melanthus, the Prince of Cyparissa and Hortensius, did not observe the ceremony exactly, for in making the Prayer, they all three turned a little towards the fair Elismonda, as if to demand Victory from her. It seemed as if Melanthus pray∣ed to be chosen by lot, to combat against the Prince of Cyparissa, for he beheld him with suffici∣ent fierceness, after the ending of the Prayer, which is but of little length. As for Hortensius, he de∣sired of the gods he might not encounter with Me∣lanthus, lest being his servant, be might be ob∣liged to restrain part of his dexterity, or lest be∣ing amorous he might be constrained to overcome his Master in presence of his Mistress: for this ceremony hath this hardness in it, that friends are necessitated to dispute the Prize one against ano∣ther, whether they be willing or not. But ob∣serve how Fortune decided it, They now no lon∣ger make use of leaves of Laurel to draw lots with, as they did in the time of Hercules. One of the Heralds therefore took an Urn, into which he put as many little Balls as there were Combat∣tants, each of which was marked with a Greek letter, every pair with the same letter, saving one, which was markt with a particular letter, for the number of the Combattants being odd, it could not be fellowed. After all these little Balls were put into an Urn, the Herald presented it to all the Combatants, one after another, who every one took out a Ball without looking into the Urn or up∣on the Ball, till every one had chosen. After which they advanc'd in order towards the Judges, and each of them delivered their Balls. And as they who hapned to have the same letters, advanc'd, the Judges put them one by another, and separa∣ted them from their Companions. It fell out so, that the Prince of Cyparissa and Hortensius had the same letter, and were destinated to dispute the prize of the Victory. Hortensius was highly joyed he had such an illustrious Enemy, and that he was not matcht with Melanthus. But when he saw that Prince had hapned on the single letter, he was as much perplexed; for you must know, that according to the Laws of the Olympick Games, he that has that letter, which is not fellow'd, be∣cause the number of the Combattants is odd, must wait to combate against the Victor of all the rest; which is no small advantage to him. Thus Hor∣tensius saw himself endangered to be overcome by the Prince of Cyparissa, or in case he were not, to dispute the Victory against his Master and his Ri∣val together. But the order of Combat could not be changed and it behoved him to dissemble what he thought, and to make a complyment to his enemy, according to the custom. Which being done, a warlike harmony was heard, which made the ayr eccho from all parts. After which, all the Combatants being conducted by the Heralds, and marching two and two, passed before the Scaffold of the Princesses, whom they saluted very respectfully. Melanthus marcht alone after the rest, without being able to conjecture who might hap to be the person, against whom he should be to dis∣pute the Victory, not knowing which of them might prove the most dextrous and happy. When the Combattants had passed before that Scaffold, being preceded by the Heralds; the Judges fol∣lowed them to the Temple, whither the Princesses also went, to be present at the Sacrifice that was offered in the name of all those that were to com∣bat. This ceremony ended, every one retired, to the end to prepare themselves to celebrate the Games three days after. During which space, they who had Mistresses there, did all they could to obtain some favor from them, believing it would conduce to make them carry the victory. In order to which, during this little interval, Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa, spoke more of their passion to Elismonda, than they had ever done be∣fore. But Hortensius, who durst not mention his, did notwithstanding all he could to obtain favors of friendship, since he presumed not to desire any of another nature; and accordingly pleading for Melanthus, he obtained for himself what he could not for that Prince. For as he was urging Elis∣monda that she ought in reason to give the Prince of Messenia something, which he might wear the day of that great Festival; As for Melanthus (said she to him) I give him the chains which he made me wear, provided he take them off me; but for you (said the Princess) I will give you a Scarfe, to the end to let you see, I grant that to a gene∣rous Friend, which I refuse to unacceptable Lo∣vers. Hortensius was unquestionably ravish'd with this success: but for that Melanthus probably would be offended at it, he employed all his in∣treaties to oblige her to do the like for him, but without effect. Nevertheless, Hortensius to moli∣fie the mind of the Prince of Messenia, told him that the Princess of Elis had without doubt refused to do it out of policy, and that he had more share in the favor which he had received than himself; and to comfort him yet more, he assured him that Elismonda would not grant the Prince of Cy∣parissa what she had refused to him. In brief, Ma∣dam, Hortensius acted with such address, that he repressed part of Melanthus's resentment. Indeed this Prince had another inquietude this day, that greatly discontented him. Which the better to de∣clare the occasion of, I must inform you, that during those three days which were allotted the Combattants to prepare themselves, it was lawful for them to substitute another in their place if they pleased, in case they found themselves indisposed, or some urgent affair befell them, or that they changed their minds. And for these reasons, the Olympick Games are seldom celebrated without some change or other. According to this custom, it was known, that a Stranger was come thi∣ther, who offered great civilities to that Laconian I told you was so meanly clad, if he would yield his room to him; and it was reported the Laconi∣an absolutely refused to resign it, although he was very poor. But it seemed this must be some man of quality, since he offered the Laconian so ad∣vantageous a bargain. The Lovers surmis'd this adventure to concern them; and Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa imagined, that he who made this Proposal, was that unknown who had taken away Elismonda's picture. But my Lord, (said Andronice to Melanthus) he who took away that Picture, was infallibly at the walk where you were, and 'tis probable he who makes such offers to the Laconian, is some Stranger that happens to arrive here, and will not make himself known, unless

he be one of the Combattants. As there were some persons whom I knew not at that walk, (answered Melanthus) how is it possible for me to know, but there may be persons of greater qua∣lity than they appear? And therefore I have a conceit, he that makes this proposal is that Un∣known, who will not discover himself till the prize is to be contended for; and I will endeavor my self to persuade the Laconian, to the end I may know this reserv'd Rival. And accordingly he sent to enquire him out, and out of a capricious jea∣lousie, which Hortensius did not withstand, he added to the offers made him by the Stranger all that he thought capable to mollifie the most ambi∣tious mind, without being able to make him change his resolution. But what great advantage (said Melanthus to him) do you apprehend from getting a Crown of Olive, in the condition you are in? The glory of fighting in the first rank, (answered he) and in the sight of the King whom I am to serve in the War; and being a Native of a City where glory is preferred above Riches, I af∣fect such a Crown of Olive more than all your Gold. But perhaps (replyed Melanthus) you will not win it, and by resigning your place you will become rich. The pusillanimity I should be guil∣ty of in yielding my place (answered he) would make me die with shame; and therefore I had much rather die poor, than commit any thing unworthy of my self. Then at least, tell us (said Melanthus) what you know concerning him that is so importunate with you to resign your place. I know no more of him (answered he) but that he is a person of quality, who newly arrived on the other side of the River Alphaeus, upon the Fron∣tier of Arcadia, and will not discover himself unless he make one in the Combat. This discourse of the Laconian augmented Melanthus's curiosity, and he was pleased with his constancy, though he was sorry he could not move him from it; so that Hortensius minding Melanthus to make him a Present, he readily consented to it. But when he told the Laconian his intention; The gods forbid, (answered he with a very noble air) that I should accept a thing which would be unprofitable to me, from the hand of a Prince, to whom I refuse one that would be well pleasing to him; and indeed it was impossible to make him change his resolution. This generosity of the Laconian, and the urgency of the unknown person that desired to Combat, made the discourse of the rest of the day. But the next morning it was known that one of the Comba∣tants, whose Mistress was sick at Pisa, had re∣ceived a Letter from her, which absolutely com∣manded him to quit his place to the Master of him that delivered it, which was the unknown per∣son; and Love accordingly effected that upon the mind of this Lover, which all the offers of For∣tune could not work upon that of the generous Laconian. 'Tis true, he quitted it only for the race with horses; for being one of great activity, he aspired to all the Crowns of the Olympick Games. But Hortensius, who had continually greater love to Elismonda, and fidelity to Melanthus, after having deliberated of the matter in his mind, re∣solved if he were Victor of all the rest, to suffer himself to be overcome by his Master, believing a man that had been Victor of many others, might without shame suffer himself to be overcome by a great Prince, and by a Prince to whom he owed all his fortune. A sentiment of Love a while en∣countered with his generosity; but at length he continued firm to his determination As for Elismonda, when she was alone with Cleontine, she wished Hortensius might carry the glory of all the Olympick Games, that so (said she) Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa may not have the joy to be Crowned by my hand. Andronice, on the contrary, what ever friendship ••he had for Horten∣sius, wisht Melanthus might become victorious, and all the Ladies who had Lovers among those that aspired to the victory, made vows in secret contrary to those of the Princesses. But at length, Madam, not to weary you unprofitably in recount∣ing to you the particularities of the Olympick Games which last for some days, I shall tell you nothing of what past the four first, because the Ladies use not to be there; and 'tis only on the day of the Chariot-races, which is the last, that all the Victors are Crowned: besides that, Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa, to preserve some State, were only in this last days exercises, which are the no∣blest of all. Hortensius also could not be in those of the preceding days, because he was matcht with the Prince of Cyparissa, who was not. This last famous day being come, each of the pretenders offered a sacrifice in the morning upon the Bank of the River Alpheus, along the Course. But that which surpris'd them was, that, seeing pre∣parations for a sacrifice, they knew not who was to offer; for there stood a magnificent and ad∣mirably contrived Chariot, near the place where the sacrifice was prepared, but there was no per∣son in it. Upon inquiry from those that belonged to it, it was known that this Chariot was the Strangers, to whom a Lover had quitted his place out of obedience to his Mistress. In fine, Madam, this day so famous throughout all Greece, was more remarkable than ordinary, by that which hapned afterwards, as you shall presently understand. To tell you in order all that passed in it, you may please to know, that all the several sacrifices being made, except that of the Unknown, all the Scaffolds erected under the umbrage of the Trees, growing on each side the Course, which is upon the Bank of the River, were filled with an incredible mul∣titude of Spectators of all sorts and conditions. Those of the Judges and Princesses being prepa∣red to receive them, and all the rails beset with people, and the adjacent places thronged with mul∣titudes that came to see and could not; all those of the pretenders that had offered their sacrifices, came and ranked themselves at the end of the Car∣riere with their Chariots, in a large place designed for that purpose, expecting the hour for the race to begin; to the end the great number of specta∣tors who were assembled in this place, might have the satisfaction of beholding those the longer that were to run. And indeed, nothing can be imagined more delectable than to see the great number of goodly persons magnificently attired, every one according to the mode of his Countrey, with state∣ly Chariots painted and gilded, and adorned with several Impresses according to the different inte∣rests of the masters of them. But that which ren∣dered this object more pleasant, was, that all these Chariots were drawn by the handsomest horses in the World. Those of Melanthus were of the good∣liest

black that ever were seen; those of the Prince of Cyparissa were bright bay with black Manes, those of Hortensius were griesley; and those of the generous Laconian, white; so that this variety of handsome horses contributed still more to the splendor and gallantry of the day. Those of the rest of the Chariots, if you please, I shall omit; because it is not important, and my memory has not retained them very exactly. But at length, when the Musick which is us'd to animate those which are to run, began to be heard, and all the spectators were raised to a sudden expectation of the races, there was seen a Boat coming from the other side of the River Alpheus, and in it a man very magnificently attired. At the same time the Judges being ascended upon their Scaffold, and the Princesses accompanied by all the Ladies up∣on theirs, they all took notice of this Boat; and seeing it coming towards the place where the empty Chariot stood, it was not doubted but the person in it was he that was to possess the room of the departed Lover. This raised an universal curiosi∣ty in the minds of all the Spectators, and conse∣quently they waited for him, though it was be∣fore intended to begin the Games forth with. When he was in the middle of the River, those who had prepared a sacrifice for him, offered it, to the end to lose no time; and as soon as he came ashoar, he mounted into his Chariot. All this time, Melan∣thus, the Prince of Cyparissa and Hortensius had an extream curiosity to know who this Stranger was, though Hortensius less than the two others. Elis∣monda and Andronice were also very desirous to see this Unknown; and all the other Ladies no less: and generally the whole multitude had no other ob∣ject in their thoughts but this Stranger. This uni∣versal curiosity was yet more augmented when they beheld him nearer, because they saw they could not discover him by reason of a kind of Vi∣zard he had disguised himself with, such as the fa∣mous Thespis used in his Comedies at that time; but all the rest had their countenances uncovered. This unknown was of a very handsome stature, and fierce action, and he had something in his gesture which spoke him to want no boldness; his Chariot was rich; his Horses were grey, dapled with white speeks, and his attire very magnifi∣cent. But that which made him be more wondered at was, that when his Chariot was according to custom to pass between the Pyramide, which serves for a Bound or Goal to the Racers in the Olympick Games, and the Scaffolds of the Judges and Prin∣cesses, and so to go along the Course; and range himself at the other end, among these that were to run, this Unknown stopt before that of the Prin∣cesses to salute them respectfully, and suffered a Banrol that was fastned to a Javelin, which he held, to wave in the wind, in which were writ∣ten these two Verses in a great Character.

Since that your Beauty once has Conquer'd me; If Conquer'd now, unknown I'll ever be.

You may judge Madam, how much these two Verses which were seen in the Banrol, confirmed the opinion of those who believed him the con∣cealer of Elismonda's picture; and you may also imagine how incensed the jealousie of Melanthus, and the Prince of Cyparissa was. Hortensius him∣self was not free from suspition; and as Lovers are very forward to believe others affect their Mistresses, he believed the person he beheld was a Lover of Elismonda, although he knew him not to be that Unknown, whom Melanthus took him for. But Melanthus and the Prince of Cyparissa, (who in this conjuncture had no more power in what concerned the Olympick Games than the meanest of the pretenders) could not repress their desires of knowing him, but sent to desire the Judges they would constrain this Unknown to to discover himself, or otherwise to exclude him from pretending to the victory. But after the Judges had debated the matter, they answered, that since the Unknown had ingaged to discover himself, by the two Verses in his Banroll, in case he were Victor, it would be unreasonable to force him to declare himself if he were overcome; and it was to be believed he had some particular rea∣son to conceal himself, which concerned not them to examine; and moreover, that the liberty of the Olympick Games ought not to be infringed, during which it is not lawful to commit the least violence upon any pretence whatsoever. Whence it beho∣ved Melanthus, the Prince of Cyparissa and Hor∣tensius, of necessity to repress their curiosity, and only to take care they might not be overcome by the Stranger. I shall forbear to tell you all the thoughts of these Lovers, and the discourse of the Prin∣cesses and the other Ladies with them; it being easie to imagine what they were. Nor shall I de∣scribe to you in particular all the several Races that were performed, having more important matters to acquaint you with. You may please to know then, that by the order of Lot which matches all the Combattants (except him that happens to have the single Letter, who runs always the last with the Victor of all the rest) the Unknown ran first against a man of quality of Thessaly, and the Judges gave him the honor of the first course; for he ran swiftly, and with a good grace out-stript his Enemy, and handsomly declined the Pyramide, making his turn with much dexterity; after which he began a second Course with him that was to follow the vanquisht Thessalian, in which he had more advantage than in the first. I need not tell you how his address and good fortune discontent∣ed those, who lookt upon him as their Rival; but I shall proceed to his third Course, which he managed with more applause than the two for∣mer, and all the people made acclamations in his praise. But at length, Hortensius his turn being come, he prepared himself to overcome this victor of others. The Stranger beheld him more fierce∣ly, than he had done the others whom he had van∣quisht, and seemed to prepare himself to make a greater attempt to overcome him. This caused the Spectators to redouble their attention; for Hortensius being very much esteemed, and likewise beloved by both parties, because he was the cause that Melanthus changed his manner of treating the Elaeans, which was something Tyrannical, the whole multitude was in fear least he should be overcome by the Stranger. Elismonda became pale with fear, and Melanthus and the Prince of Cy∣parissa beheld him not as a Rival, but made vows for his success, as well as the Princess Andronice. But in brief Madam, Hortensius being at the end

of the Carriere, with the Unknown, they made their Courses with very unequal success, for Hor∣tensius performed his with such vigor, grace, ex∣actness, and swiftness, that he far surpassed him that had surpassed those which preceded him. But that which enraged the Unknown, was, that apprehending in the middle of his Course Hor∣tensius would overcome him, he endeavored to speed his horses with an impetuosity which was natural to him, who feeling themselves urged on too suddenly, reared up, and had overturned his Chariot, if he had not been dextrous and strong, but himself confest he was overcome at the end of his Course. But as Hortensius, having finisht his, was returning gently, very glorious with his Victory; the Stranger, who stopt in the middle of the Carriere, to redress some discomposure in the reins of his horses, could not repress his regret, but told him with a low voice, 'Tis too much to be overcome twice. At which words Horten∣sius stopt also to consider this disguised person, who observing his intent, fell into such a fury, that on a sudden changing his purpose, he bowed down on one side, as if he desired to speak to him. Hortensius judging he did so, advanced towards him, and heard these words from him distinctly. Since you desire to know me (said he to him) meet me to morrow morning at Sun rise behind the Temple of Diana, which stands upon the way to Pisa, where you shall find me with an unmaskt countenance, and my sword in my hand: you will there learn, that he whom you have surpas∣sed rather by good fortune than address, deserved perhaps to overcome. If you are truly courageous, you will not fail at this assignation; and come thi∣ther with one slave only. I shall be there infalli∣bly (answered Hortensius without being moved) and whether soever it be by good fortune or cou∣rage, I hope my second victory will cost you dea∣rer than the first. After this, these two Enemies separated themselves asunder. Hortensius went to prepare himself at the end of the Carriere, to begin a Course with the Prince of Cyparissa, and the Stranger went out at a Bar which is opened for those that are overcome, to the end they might not dis∣order the Lists. But instead of going to rank himself behind the rest, which were to run, ac∣cording to the custom, he returned towards his Boat, into which he cast himself with precipita∣tion, like a man in despair. He left his Chariot also abandoned upon the Bank of the River, and caused those that had guarded it, to enter into his Boat, least they should be compelled to discover who he was. In the mean time, there was no person in all this great Assembly, but believed Hor∣tensius knew who this Stranger was, and hoped he would declare it at the end of all the Courses. But being it was then no time to speak to him, every one suspended his patience. The Prince of Cyparissa, who himself had made vows for Hortensius against the Unknown, resolved now to Conquer him if he could; and accordingly made so handsome a Course, that Melanthus blusht at it with despight, Elismonda was not very glad of it, Andronice for the interest of the Prince her Bro∣ther, could have wisht it less handsome; and as well for this reason as the affection she bore Hor∣tensius, feared least the Prince of Cyparissa, might have the better. But her fear did not last long; for Hortensius notwithstanding the perplexity his adventure with the Unknwon might have raised in his mind, appeared with so noble a boldness, and took up so strong a resolution to out do so con∣siderable a Rival as the Prince of Cyparissa, that he performed this last Course with much greater ho∣nor than all the rest which he had made. Yet the Prince of Cyparissa, came not off without glory, because excepting Hortensius, none had run so well as he. At least he had the satisfaction of being rather overcome by a person whom he believed not his Rival, than if he had been so by Melanthus. He had also the consolation of seeing all those, that ran after him, worsted by Hortensius, without ex∣cepting the generous Laconian, who had got the victory in all the exercises of the preceding days. Now Hortensius finding himself in a strait, either to overcome his Master, or to be overcome in the presence of his Mistress, Ambition prompted him to suffer himself to be overcome, Love urged him to aspire to the Victory, and his reason which should have decided the matter, was sufficiently perplexed. Not but that Hortensius before he be∣gan to run, resolved to yield to the Prince, but coming to the point to execute his purpose, he became very unsatisfied. At length, not knowing whether Course to prefer, he prepared himself to undertake the Course with Melanthus, who in the bottom of his heart much feared to be over∣come by Hortensius. Nevertheless, being generous, and unwilling to have a victory given him, he turned toward Hortensius, and speaking to him like one that would be obeyed, Remember Hor∣tensius, (said he to him) that I will not owe a Victory to your respect; and if you do not your utmost endeavors to overcome me, I shall think my self more dishonored than if I were fairly overcome. Hortensius was going to answer Me∣lanthus, but the Prince as soon as he had spoken these words, went to range himself in the place where he ought to begin his Course. Now was the time that Elismonda and Andronice made contrary vows, for though the Princess of Messenia had a great dearness for Hortensius, yet not thinking him amorous of Elismonda, and the interest of her bro∣ther prevailing upon her mind, she wished Melan∣thus might be Victor, conceiving moreover, Hor∣tensius might be surpassed without disgrace, after having overcome so many others. But Elismonda made secret vows for Hortensius, both because he was the man she esteemed most in the World, and Melanthus him whom she hated. At length both these Rivals made their course, but with so equal a justness, that it was impossible for the Judges to determine the advantage to the one, in preju∣dice of the other. Hortensius was willing to yield the prise to Melanthus, but this Prince would not admit it to be so, and after the matter had been de∣bated a while, the Judges ordered they should make a second course, in which (to dispatch my narration of the Olympick Games) Hortensius was declared Victor. He had an intention to have re∣strained part of his dexterity, and suffer Melan∣thus to get the better; but the Prince endeavoring too much to set off his own, could not make any advantage of his enemies generosity, and run much worse the second time than the first. So that Hor∣tensius was presently declared Victor, by the ac∣clamations of all the multitude, notwithstanding

the greatness of Melanthus, and afterwards by the Judges of the Olympick Games. The Victor be∣ing descended from his Chariot, was presented by them to the Princess Elismonda, who gave him the Crown that he had so well merited. But he receiv'd it with such respect and submission, that if his action had been taken notice of, it would have been easily perceiv'd, that he preferr'd the fair hand that crown'd him, before the Crown which he receiv'd from it. I assure you (said the Princess of Elis to him, smiling obligingly, as she put her hand upon his head) that if I had in my power, all the Crowns that are in the disposal of Fortune, I would give you one more durable than that which you receive this day. And I protest to you Madam, answer'd he, that as I can ne∣ver receive one more glorious than this, so my am∣bition will be fully satisfi'd, provided you believe the admiration I have for you, surpasses much more that of all others that admire you, than my dexterity has surpass'd that of all those that I have overcome. Hortensius could not so conceal the passionateness of the air, wherewith he spake this, but that it was observ'd by Elismonda and Cleontine. But at length after he was risen up (for he bended one knee to the ground to receive the Crown) he remounted into his Chariot; and all those which he had overcome, marching two and two, follow'd him, and the Prince Melanthus among the rest; and in this order, with the noise of Musick which sounded at the beginning of every act, Hortensius went to the Temple of Jupiter, to ascribe thanks to that god, for the advantage which he had got∣ten. The Princess Elismonda at the same time, distributed al the other Crowns, to those which had overcome in the other exercises of the preceding daies, although she was not present at them; after which she went to a solemn sacrifice, which was offer'd in the same place where the combatants had been matcht.

I shall forbear to describe to you the Feast that follow'd this solemnity, and only tell you, that to end the day as it began, there was a contest be∣tween those that had made the Musick in the Olympick Games, who should carry the prize: but for that, this did not hinder conversation, and all the company was in a large vaulted Hall, not far off from the place where the Festival was solem∣niz'd, whither the Princesses also went to hear the contest; Some made compliments to the Victory, others encourag'd those that were overcome, and all press'd Hortensius to tell them who the Un∣known Gallant was, that he had overcome; but he alwaies answered, that he knew him not, with∣out giving the least ground to suspect the truth. So that it was thought by the cheerfulness of Horten∣sius's deportment, that what they had spoken to∣gether, was nothing but generous civilities. There were several agreeable conversations, in which he was always present, and discours'd to Melanthus, with all imaginable submission; who as vex'd as he was with his being overcome, did neverthe∣less receive all civilly from him, that he said to him; though in the bottom of his heart, he re∣sented much perplexity that he had not won the prize. But at length night separated the whole company; for the Princess of Elis would not ad∣mit there should be a Ball, both because she did not affect dancing, and for that she conceiv'd it less sutable to the condition she was in. Wherefore she return'd to the house of the virtuous Elisante whither Melanthus, the Prince of Cyparissa, and Hortensius, conducted her with the Princess An∣dronice, and the Ladies that were usually with her; but all the rest continued at Olympia. When the Princesses were arriv'd there, the conversati∣on lasted some time; and Hortensius had the hap∣piness to entertain Elismonda a short space alone, while Andronice was speaking apart with her bro∣ther Melanthus. But he was much perplex'd what he should say to her; for being resolv'd to conti∣nue firmly faithful to his Master, he was loth to discover any signs of his affection: though on the other side, he knew not how to speak to her with the wonted coldness of one that is indifferent. This perplexity continued not long, Melanthus having soon dispatcht his discourse with the Princess his Sister. At length, Madam, the Princess betook he self to her chamber in this fair house, where it is reported the wise Nestor once liv'd; the Prince of Cyparissa went to another not far distant; and Hortensius having taken leave of Melanthus, took no other care, but how he might quit himself from the observation of his attendants a little before day, and meet at the assignation which the Unknown had appointed him. And accordingly, as a brave person easily surmounts all obstacles that hinder him from doing a courageous action, Hortensius got forth very early in the morning, attended on∣ly with one slave, and having no other arms but his sword. The goodness of his Horse, and his desire not to give his enemy the advantage of stay∣ing for him, brought him thither before him. Be∣sides that, this Unknown being to cross the River, he needed more time than Hortensius, to reach the place appointed. But he had not stayed there long, before his enemy arriv'd. The Temple of Diana, near which the Unknown oblig'd Hortensius to meet him, stands in a very solitary place, and it was yet very early; so that there was no fear of be∣ing disturb'd in their fatal design, not so much as by those that were at the Temple, because there's a little Wood on the backside of it, in the middle of which is a lage vacant place, whither none ever resort, but upon the daies of open Sacrifice; and here it was Hortensius attended the coming of his enemy, according to appointment, When he saw him arrive with an unmasked countenance, at first he thought he knew him not; but a mo∣ment after, he remembred 'twas the same Attalus he had wounded, as he came from Thessale with the Princess Andronice, whom he attempted to carry away. You may imagine, Madam, how greatly Hortensius was surpriz'd: but he had not much time to muse upon the adventure; for the fierce Attalus (who, besides the impetuosity of his nature, had the regret of having been overcome, and the apprehension that Hortensius was amorous of Andronice, and mutually lov'd by her) no soon∣er beheld him, but he commanded the slave that follow'd him, to go aside with him that attended Hortensius, and drawing his sword, and advan∣cing towards him that had overcome in the Olym∣pick Games. Let us see (said he to him with a fierce and piquant raillery) whether Mars will be as favourable to you as Jupiter, and whether you know as well how to manage a Sword, as to drive a Chariot. You ought not to make any doubt

of that (answer'd Hortensius, drawing also his Sword) for I have overcome you elsewhere than at the Olympick Games: but you shall soon be re∣solv'd of a thing, your curiosity of which, if I am not mistaken, will cost you something dear. Upon which, these two valiant men engag'd, and fought together with such courage and dexterity, that their combat lasted longer than they wish'd it. Hortensius was first slightly wounded in the shoul∣der, but soon after wounded his enemy in the right side. I will not amuse my self, Madam, to tell you the particular circumstances of this encoun∣ter for (besides that Ladies love not very well these kind of relations, when they are too long) it is also true, that having been inform'd of the par∣ticulars only, from the mouth of the two slaves that beheld it, and that of Hortensius, who is too modest to exagerate any thing that is glorious to himself, I am not able well to describe it. 'Tis enough to let you know, that having fought with heroical resolution, and wounded one another in several places, Hortensius pass'd his sword through the body of his enemy, who fell down dead be∣tween his Horses feet. But at the same time Hor∣tensius, who had receiv'd four great wounds, and by the great onset he made to dispatch his enemy, lost much blood, fell down in a swound, near him that he had slain. Upon which, the two slaves ran forthwith to their Masters, without taking care of their Horses, being loose, which gallop∣ed away about the fields. But Madam, as chance has a share in every thing, Melanthus having had a desire to go a hunting this day, was surpris'd when he was inform'd (by those he sent to en∣quire) Hortensius could not be heard of, only that he went forth before day. Nevertheless he held his purpose; and the Prince of Cyparissa, and all the persons of quality that were with these two Princes, accompanied him. I was one amongst others, of this hunting-match: but it fell out strangely, that we went to begin our chase on one side of the Temple of Diana: So that the Horses of Hortensius and Attalus being got loose, that of Hortensius, which was very remarkable, and had been given him by Melanthus, hapned to pass by him, to approach to one that belong'd to the Horse of that Prince, who was wont to dress him, and at such times us'd to make him follow without the bridle. This Horse was presently known to belong to Hortensius; so that Melan∣thus, who lov'd him very dearly, though he resent∣ed his having been overcome by him, beheld him with so much the more inquietude, for that he perceiv'd many sprinklings of bloud upon him, though he were not wounded. In which per∣plexity he commanded the company to divide themselves, and seek out tidings of Hortensius. The Prince of Cyparissa went one way with five or six of his Friends, and Eumenes another; Agenor who seem'd in despairing affliction, went wandring a∣bout the fields, and Melanthus being follow'd by a great number, went directly to the backside of the Temple, as if the gods had guided him by the hand: I was at that time with him, and thereby came to be well inform'd of what had pass'd in that place. When we arrived there, we found that these two slaves I told you of, instead of rendring their Masters what succor they were able, believing them both dead, had quarrel'd and were fighting toge∣ther with their swords. The appearance of the Prince parted them; he that belong'd to Attalus would have escap'd away, but he of Hortensius came before Melanthus who commanded they should stop the others flight; which was soon done. Melanthus advancing further, was very much sur∣pris'd, to behold Hortensius all cover'd with blood, and to see Attalus lye dead by him. Which specta∣cle melting his heart more towards Hortensius, who he perceiv'd had kill'd a man he hated, he alighted from his Horse, and went himself to see whether Hortensius had yet any life left in him, uttering the most passionate expressions in the World. At this noise which was made about him, Hortensius be∣gan to come to himself a little from his swound, sending forth a faint sigh, and half opening his eyes, which he shut again the next moment. Melanthus perceiving he was not dead, sent to a Priest who dwelt near the Temple, to prepare a bed for him: and then caus'd him to be carried by his servants to it. After which, calling for Attalus's slave, he understood from him, that 'twas he that run a∣gainst Hortensius at the Olympick Games, and would not discover his countenance. Wherefore no lon∣ger doubting, but that he engag'd Hortensius to meet him in that place, when he spoke softly to him in the middle of the Carrier after his victory, his principal care was of succoring Hortensius. Yet he generously commanded the Priest, to whose house he had caus'd this illustrious wounded person to be carried, to take care of the Sepulture of Attalus; but his mind was more solicitous to get Hortensius cur'd. To which purpose, he gave order for some to go and fetch Chirurgeons, while himself in the mean time, assisted those that endeavour'd to stop the blood, which began to flow afresh, as soon as Hortensius was recover'd from his swound, by some remedies given him. But when Agenor with strange regret beheld Hortensius in this con∣dition; violent grief being a thing, which when it surprises of a sudden, makes those that resent it to utter something many times contrary to their judgement and intention; he cry'd out two or three times, Is this the manner, O ye gods! that ye cause the unfortunate Hortensius to reign? These words were twice noted by Melanthus; but for that he was very much afflicted, he made no reflection upon them at that time. At length the Chirur∣geons arriv'd, and betook themselves to search Hortensius's wounds. But whilst they were rea∣soning among themselves, and the Prince was walking about the chamber, with a strange impa∣tience, to know what he might hope concerning life of his Favorite, the slave of this illustrious wounded person, taking away the cloaths of his Master, which the Chirurgeons deliver'd to him, pass'd hastily, out of respect, by Melanthus, to car∣ry them from thence. But as he pass'd by, Melan∣thus beheld Elismonda's picture fall down, which was miss'd at their memorable Walk. For you must know, Madam, that Hortensius ever after car∣ried it about him. You may easily judge, how strangely Melanthus, who knew it, was surpris'd at it, and what trouble this accident excited in his mind. He took up the Picture without the slaves taking notice of it; and I, who had seen the picture before, was very much amaz'd But now the same Prince, Madam, who a moment before desir'd Hortensius's life as his own, and con∣sider'd

him as a man to whom he o w'd his con∣quests, and who had newly slain the person he ha∣ted most in the world, did no sooner suspect that he was his Rival, but he believ'd also that he had betray'd him with Elismonda; that he not only lov'd her, and was lov'd by her, but that he had likewise some secret Intrigue of Ambition besides for at the same moment he call'd to mind the ex∣clamations he heard utter'd by Agenor. Where∣fore without inquiring of the Chirurgeons what they thought concerning Hortensius's wounds, he went into another chamber, where he walk'd without speaking a word, testifying sufficiently by the trouble of his countenance, he had some∣thing in his breast which extreamly torment∣ed him. But at length, making great violence against his resentments, he suffer'd the Chirurge∣ons to come and tell him, that though Hortensius was very dangerously wounded, yet he was not absolutely to be despair'd of. After which he made them a sign to retire; and the Prince of Cy∣parissa, Eumenes, and all the rest being come, Me∣lanthus seem'd to them, to be more possess'd with choler than grief; but at length, having deter∣min'd in his mind what to do, he went away with∣out approaching to the bed where Hortensius was. But at his departure, he left half of his Guards with him, with order to hinder Hortensius from being remov'd to any other place without his com∣mission. Agenor being ignorant what reasons ob∣lig'd Melanthus to this, was desirous to abide with his friend; but the Prince commanded him to fol∣low him, without giving him any reason for it. Eu∣menes also was deny'd to stay behind, though he requested it; and it was in vain, that I offer'd my self to take care of this Illustrious person, during the danger of his wounds: so that there remain'd with him only a slave, the Chirurgeons, the Priest, the Prince's guards, and he that commanded them. At this time also the Prince of Cyparissa having purpos'd to return to Pisa, after the hunting, took leave of Melanthus, and departed with his own followers: The Prince of Messena being left now in greater liberty, appear'd more tormented than before; by the way, he gave order to some of his Attendants to look well to Agenor, and without more discourse went silently to the place where he lay the preceding night. As soon as he was arri∣ved there, he commanded Agenor to follow him, having something to speak to him; after which, he order'd Eumenes to redouble his care in the guard of Elismonda, and sent to seize upon the Cabinet of Hortensius, which he caus'd to be brought to him, imagining he should find some Letters in it from the Princess of Elis. As soon as he had broke it open, instead of finding what he sought for, he unhappily found a memorial written in the same character, with that of the four Verses in Elismon∣da's Picture-Case. For Love and Jealousie had so deeply engrav'd that hand in his imagination, that he scarce knew his own writing better than he did that. And now no longer doubting, that Horten∣sius had taken the Picture, that Hortensius had made the Verses, and that Hortensius was in love with Elismonda; he also question'd not but that he was lov'd by her, that he had betray'd him, that he was ingrateful, and that he had some hidden de∣sign, wherein ambition bare a part. He therefore caus'd Agenor to enter into his Closet; but, in∣instead of receiving him well, as he was wont, for Hortensius's sake, he beheld him very fiercely, and demanded of him what he meant when perceiving Hortensius wounded, he cry'd out, asking the gods if this were the manner, in which they would cause Hortensius to Reign. Agenor at first was a little a∣maz'd, and answer'd not directly. So that Me∣lanthus confirming himself in his opinion and let∣ting loose the impetuosity of his humour, No, no, Agenor, (said he to him) seek not to disguise the truth, I must resolve this obscure Riddle, and know thoroughly, all that the perfidious Hortensius has complotted against me. Alas, my Lord (an∣swer'd Agenor!) Hortensius is the most faithful servant you have. Hortensius (replyed Melanthus) is ungrateful and unworthy; and I shall know how to punish his ingratitude and unworthiness, if he die not of his wounds. Agenor found himself strangely perplex'd at this; for Hortensius had for∣bidden him to discover any of the Predictions which had occasion'd his banishment out of his own Countrey, for fear he should Reign there. But after having a while defended himself, he fear'd he might injure his friend instead of serving him, by being obstinate not to discover the cause of his exclamation; for there was no other means to put a good construction upon what he had said, but by laying open the truth of it. Agenor therefore declar'd it ingenuously, thinking to justifie Horten∣sius; and so in few words recounted what had been the occasion of that which Melanthus heard him speak. But jealousie possessing his mind with a great disposition to interpret all things to the disad∣vantage of Hortensius, this information of Agenor perfectly incens'd him, there arising a mixture of divers sentiments in his mind, which put him into extream confusion. He felt in himself the violen∣ces of jealousie, choler, despight to have been ob∣lig'd by Hortensius, regret for having lov'd him, and some slight reluctance against ill treating him: a great desire to see him die, and some fear of seeing what was foretold concerning him, come to pass, though he was not accustom'd easily to give credit to Predictions. Thus love, hatred, friendship, glo∣ry, and jealousie dividing his mind, he continued some time in a great incertainty; but at length not being able to contain his grief in his breast, after he had commanded Agenor to be taken into custody, he went to find the Princess Andronice. When he came to the Apartment of this Princess, it was told him she was at that of Elismonda; but instead of going thither according to his custom, he sent to tell her he expected her at her own. This pro∣ceeding amaz'd the Princess so much the more, in that they were newly told, some great accident was fallen out, though they could not learn what it was. Yet Andronice, as she was going from Elis∣monda's Lodgings to her own, understood Horten∣sius had slain Attalus, and was himself very dan∣gerously wounded. So that she believ'd Melanthus desir'd to see her only to communicate to her the grief he resented for the danger Hortensius was in. I come, my Lord, (said she to him) to help you to commiserate the generous Hortensius; for though I have reason to be glad of the death of Attalus, yet the sorrow I have for his wounds that over∣came him, renders me uncapable to taste the sweet∣ness of revenge. Alas! my Sister (cry'd the Prince) you ill understand my thoughts, if you commise∣rate

the most unworthy, perfidious, and ingrate∣ful of men. But, my Lord, (reply'd Andronice all amaz'd) 'tis not Attalus, but Hortensius that I commiserate. I mean him also (answer'd he) 'tis Hortensius that has betray'd me, 'tis Hortensius that is my Rival, 'tis Hortensius that projects to Reign in Elismonda's heart, and in my dominions, and in a word, Hortensius is he that I hate, as much as I have lov'd him, and whom I will punish so se∣verely, that he shall serve for an example of In∣gratitude to posterity. But my Lord (said Andro∣nice) I confess I know not Hortensius according to the description you make of him. Have you for∣got, Hortensius was he that hindred me from being carried away by Attalus, and that you owe part of your Conquests to his valour and counsels, that he had the good fortune to save your life in the last battel, that he has done his utmost for you with Elismonda, that he was unwilling to dispute the victory with you at the Olympick Games, and has newly slain Attalus whom you hated? 'Tis true, (answer'd the Prince fiercely) he has done all that you speak of; but since he loves Elismonda, I ought to hate him more than I hated Attalus. After which, he told her all he had discover'd; and then declar'd to her all he thought, and at last intimated that he doubted not but that Hortensius lov'd Elis∣monda, and she him; that he had betray'd him, and complotted to Reign in some place or other, either in the Countrey of Elis, or that of Messena. This discourse of Melanthus seeming grounded upon ve∣ry strong presumptions, Andronice knew not what to answer. She had great kindness and gratitude for her Deliverer, but yet was at a loss what to conjecture concerning the adventure of the Picture. She call'd to mind, she had upon divers occasions observ'd Hortensius had a very tender affection to∣wards Elismonda. Nevertheless, she had so great an opinion of his virtue, that she could not believe him capable of perfidiousness. But though she desir'd to excuse him, she could find nothing to say in his defence, in reference to his love of Elis∣monda, of which the Picture was a convincing te∣stimony; but as for the design of Reigning, she told the Prince there was no appearance Hortensius ever had a thought of it. But on the contrary (answer'd Melanthus) I believe he is in love, on∣ly because he is ambitious; and to speak without prejudice, it must be confess'd, Fortune has in a manner forc'd him to be so; for that which he did in acknowledgement of the obligation he had to you, was the cause I receiv'd him at first with an extraordinary goodness. After which, his valour proving Fortunate, he saw himself in a short time become more powerful than my self, by the credit I gave him in my heart. In the mean time, this un∣worthy person, as he is, betraies me in the most cruel manner in the world. Of all that I have con∣quer'd, and of all that I can ever conquer, (added he) I desire only the heart of Elismonda, which he deprives me of, under pretence of gaining it for me; and by a most horrid perfidiousness, uses the permission I give him to see Elismonda, to draw her to love himself, to make her hate me, and to contrive with her without doubt, how to possess himself of the principality of Elis, and perhaps to poniard me. But, my Lord (reply'd Andronice) if there had been any intimacy be∣tween Hortensius and the Princess Elismonda, he would not have committed the prank of the pi∣cture. Not, if he had had discretion (answer'd Melanthus) but love and ambition blinded him; and believing it impossible I should discover it was he, he made himself pleasant at my cost. In short, (added he) to understand more clearly, whether he be as much lov'd as he loves, I will go my self and inform Elismonda of the danger Hortensius is in, and dissemble my choler at first, if I can, to the end it may not hinder her from manifesting her sorrow, and I may the better sound the secret of her soul. But, my Lord (answer'd Andronice) do not seek to torment your self; give me com∣mission to discover the sentiments of the Princess of Elis, and go not about to judge of her by de∣ceitful conjectures. For is it possible, she should be otherwise than afflicted with the danger Horten∣sius is in, though she had seen him only twice? No, no, (reply'd the incens'd Prince) I will be the spy my self, and if I discover that Elismonda loves Hortensius, as I scarce doubt it, I will then redouble all the revenge I am preparing for that ungrateful person, who has so horridly betray'd me. Having spoken this, he went immediately to the apartment of the Princess of Elis. Andronice would have been glad he had not gone thither without her, but he would not permit her to ac∣company him. When he enter'd into Elismonda's chamber, she was speaking to Cleontine, and won∣dring she had not seen Hortensius all the day; and speaking this something aloud, Melanthus over∣heard the name of Hortensius. At which he blusht with indignation, and changing his resolution of dissembling his sentiments, approach'd towards the Princess of Elis, and looking upon her atten∣tively, He that you mention Madam, (said he to her) is not in a condition to make you a visit; for he is wounded very dangerously in several places. Oh gods! (cry'd Elismonda hastily, turning pale with fear) into what mischievous adventure is the generous Hortensius fall'n? You give him a ti∣tle that so ill befits him, Madam, (said Melanthus) that to prevent your over-much commiserating him, I must declare to you that he is the most te∣merarious and perfidious person in the world. I have alwaies found him so respectful (replyed she) and I know he serves you so faithfully, that I can scarce believe he merits to be styl'd perfidious and temerarious. When I shall tell you (answer'd he) that he is amorous of you, that it was he that stole your picture, and made the four Verses, which gave you such curiosity, you must necessarily agree with me concerning his audaciousness: and when I shall moreover add, that I know, that instead of endeavouring to promote my interests with you, he has only contriv'd to serve himself, notwithstand∣ing whatever hatred you bear against me, you will be oblig'd to confess, that in reference to me, he is a perfidious person, which deserves a thousand punishments; and in relation to your self, an au∣dacious one, that is unworthy of the goodness you have for him. I know not, my Lord (replyed she) who has mis-inform'd you, that Hortensius is my Lover; but I can swear to you with truth, that if he be so, he has made a great secret of it to me, and has spoken a thousand and a thousand things to me in your favour, which a Lover uses not to speak in behalf of his Rival. And as for the Picture you mention, if Hortensius took it away,

could he be sufficiently imprudent to shew it, or tell it to any. No, Madam (answer'd he) but he has been unhappy enough to lose it, after he was wounded in killing Attalus, with whom he fought. Yes, Madam, with my own eyes I saw the Picture fall, and I was he that took it up without his know∣ing it; and to compleat the conviction of his per∣fidiousness, I haue caus'd his Cabinet to be open∣ed, and have there found divers things of the same hand he made use of to write the four ver∣ses. So that, Madam, 'tis beyond all doubt, that Hortensius is an unworthy, and an ungrateful Trai∣tor; and the question is only to know, whether you be a complice of his Crimes. If I believe him concerning the rigor you have against me, (ad∣ded the Prince) you not only know that Horten∣sius loves you, but you love him: and I know not, whether after he inform'd you of the pretend∣ed predictions which say, He must reign one day in some place, you have not complotted something against me, in hope he might restore Elis to you, and hinder me from taking Pisa. My Lord (an∣swer'd Elismonda, with extream prudence) I shall not stand to deny that Hortensius is amorous of me, for I confess to you sincerely, I know nothing of it; though I shall withal tell you, that it seems to me not impossible, because he has appear'd really to interess himself obligingly in all my concernments: but that which I am able to swear to you with sincerity, is this, If Hortensius be a Lover of mine, you are a thousand times more oblig'd to him, than if he were not; since 'tis the greatest truth in the world, that he has omitted to do nothing that might induce me to receive your affection in the way you desire. And therefore, my Lord, if Hor∣tensius be amorous of me, it concerns me to take it ill, and not you. Leave me then the care of pu∣nishing him for this crime, and if you have no o∣ther to charge him with, be cautious how you dis∣miss him of your friendship. For, my Lord, I swear it to you once more, There is nothing which Hor∣tensius has not done to oblige me to treat you bet∣ter: and to speak with the greatest sincerity I can possible, 'tis neither to your affection, nor to my prudence, that you owe the small complacency I have shewn towards you, but to the perswasions of Hortensius. Ah Madam, (reply'd he roughly!) I will owe nothing to Hortensius. That perhaps, would be sufficiently difficult (answer'd she;) for being what is pass'd cannot be alter'd, you will always owe too many things to him. I under∣stand you well, Madam, (said he to her) you would intimate that I owe part of my victories to him; but, to let you see, I am able to overcome without him, if he die not of the wounds he has receiv'd, I will return him into the same condition he was in when he came to my Court, that is, I will send him to wander again about the world, with∣out fortune and subsistence, provided you persuade me effectually that you do not love him. For if you treat me so (added this violent Prince) that I have cause to believe you do, nothing shall be able to restrain me from putting him to death. I have already told you (answer'd Elismonda in great a∣mazement) that I know nothing of Hortensius's love, and that he alone induc'd me to treat you more respectfully than I should have done, if I had follow'd my true sentiments; but that which I shall tell you at present is, that had you put Horten∣sius, to death, I should never look upon you but with horror. Ah! Cruel person that you are (cry'd Melanthus) what is this that you make me hear? For if you have known the Love of Hortensius, which I scarce doubt of, I am the the most unfor∣tunate of men, and he the most criminal; and if you knew it not before, why does not the discove∣ry I now make to you of it, incense you against him: Is it a usual thing (added he) for a great Princess to take it well to be lov'd by such a man as Hortensius, who dares not return into his own Countrey, because 'tis fear'd lest he one day become the Tyrant of it? If Hortensins be not amorous of me (answer'd she) I should be very unjust in ta∣king away any friendship from him; and if he be, as you say, I ought to redouble my esteem towards him, since he does the most generous, heroical, and difficult act in the world, which is to serve his Ri∣val, and to have so much respect, as to be in love and not declare it. But, though it were true, Ma∣dam (reply'd Melanthus) that Hortensius has con∣ceal'd his passion from you, is it not enough to make him Criminal against me, that he is enamour'd on you? Why did he not oppose that passion when it first sprung up in his heart; and if he could not do that, why did he not betake himself to some place where he might never see you during his life? But, my Lord (answer'd Elismonda coldly) if Love be voluntary, Why do not you cease to love a person that cannot love you? or, if you be un∣able to do so, Why do you not remove her far from your sight for ever? Ah! Madam (cry'd he) you love Hortensius, and you would not speak as you do, if he were indifferent to you. I have without doubt (answer'd she) all the esteem for him imaginable, and the most tender friendship that any heart is capable of; therefore, my Lord, preserve his life, if you love me. Elismonda spake this after so passionate a manner, though she did not design to do so, that Melanthus well perceiv'd she had at least a very strong inclination to love Hortensius; and being infinitely ingenious, drew a consequence that gave him very great torment. For after having spoken of the Predictions which occasion'd Hortensius to be banish'd from his Coun∣trey, and Elismonda not requiring of him the clearing up of a thing so extraordinary, she thence conjectur'd that she had understood it from Hor∣tensius. So that his jealousie redoubling, he became strangely transported against that generous Veien∣tine. Nevertheless, there were some moments, in which he spoke to Elismonda with an extream tenderness; I beseech you, Madam (said he to her) excuse my transport: it is so difficult to have very much love, and very much moderation at the same time, that if you would consider the fury that pos∣sesses me as an effect of the greatness of my af∣fection, you would not condemn me for it, but pi∣ty me. But alas! it is easie for you to oblige me to pardon Hortensius. Yes Madam (added he) I have so high an opinion of your virtue, that if you ren∣der me happy, I will not banish Hortensius. I will even do what I am able, to restore him to my friendship; at least I will change nothing in his fortune, nor attempt any thing upon his life. The destiny of Hortensius therefore is in your hands; and if he has not discover'd to you his love, and you have none for him, resolve, Madam, to end the War and my miseries, We are soon at the end of

the Truce; consider therefore seriously upon what I propound to you. Your quiet is concern'd, Hor∣tensius s life and all my felicity. Do not incense a Prince, who is not master of his resentment when he is affronted, who requires nothing of you, but what is advantageous to you, and who, notwith∣standing your being a prisoner, is more subject to your pleasure than any other Lover ever was. If it were so (answer'd she) you would not act as you do. But, in brief, my Lord, (added the Princess) I have long since given you to understand, that so long as I continue a prisoner, I would never think of marrying; that it's requisite first to make a peace, and after that I shall consider what resolution I ought to take. Persist, if you please, in these terms; and in the mean time forget not what I told you, that if you should put Hortensius to death, I should never see you but with horror. I shall re∣member it, Madam, I shall remember it (reply'd Melanthus, as he was rising up) and since all I have now said to you, does not oblige you to change your sentiments, we shall see whether Me∣lanthus incens'd, will be more pleasing than Me∣lanthus submiss and respectful. You love Horten∣sius (said he to her) but before long you shall re∣pent your having lov'd him. Elismonda was going to answer him, but he went forth roughly and would not hear her. Being violent in all his resolu∣tions, and having at that time no person near him, to repress part of the impetuosity of his humour, he immediately, without considering Hortensius's condition, sent order to have him carried to Elis. He also commanded Eumenes to convey the Prin∣cess Elismonda thither about evening, and prepar'd himself to follow them. Elismonda as yet ignorant of this order, was entertaining her self with her dear Cleontine, to whom she related in few words all that Melanthus had spoken; for Cleontine retir'd out of respect, when Melanthus came to the Princess. But after having repeated to her this long conversation; Well, Cleontine (said she) What say you of this hard adventure, and what do you think of Horten∣sius's virtue? For he never made the least mention to me of his passion, but contrarily, did all he could for Melanthus. I confess I have oftentimes seen in his eyes some tokens of his love, but it was against his will. And perhaps also Madam (answer'd Cleontine) he has perceiv'd in yours, against your Will too, that you have a very great inclination for him; for I have observ'd it upon a hundred se∣veral occasions. I confess, Cleontine, (answer'd Elismonda) I have for Hortensius not only esteem, but admiration, not only friendship, but dearness, gratitude, and inclination; and I doubt not but if his fortune and mind had so much resemblance as our affections, we should love eternally. But Hor∣tensius shall never know what I have now told you and, as he never declar'd to me he lov'd me, both out of a sentiment of respect, and fidelity, he re∣solv'd to preserve for Melanthus, though I should see him again, he should never know how advanta∣geous my thoughts are of him; for I would never betray my self; and virtue is not less powerful in my heart than in his. But, alas! (added she, sighing) I shall never see him perhaps while I live; for Melanthus will banish, or put him to death, if he escape the danger of his wounds: Thus I see my self expos'd to the violent humor of a Prince, whose jealousie may prompt him to strange enor∣mities. As Elismonda was speaking thus, the Prin∣cess Andronice enter'd, who told her with very much sorrow, that she came to give her notice that she must return to Elis at that very hour. This news surpriz'd and afflicted Elismonda; but it was neces∣sary to obey, and Andronice and Cleontine comfort∣ed her the best they could. But to the end, the de∣parture of Elismonda might not be so soon known to the Prince of Cyparissa, who was return'd to Pisa, Melanthus thought fit Andronice should con∣tinue still all the next day at the house of the vir∣tuous Elisante, who beheld Elismonda depart with very much sorrow. On the other side, Melanthus caus'd Hortensius likewise to be remov'd, though the Chirurgeons told him it could not be done without danger. So he was by order to be put into a Chariot, without being acquainted with the cause of this change; for they which were about him knew nothing of it. But having a very ready reason, he judg'd that being he was remov'd in the night, and in such a condition; there must needs be some extraordinary matter, especially not see∣ing the Prince, and receiving no message from him. Yet he imagin'd at first, Melanthus, perhaps, had discover'd that the Prince of Cyparissa plotted some∣thing towards the end of the Truce, which was al∣most expir'd and therefore thought fit to remove him further from Pisa. But when it behov'd him to dress himself, that he might be put into the Chariot that was provided for him, he call'd the Slave which was left to serve him, and demanded his Cloaths. His first thought was to see whether Elismonda's picture were in the place where he had hid it. He was much astonish'd when he did not find it there, ask'd the Slave whether he had not seen it, who answering No, he caus'd him to search all about, without telling the Guards what he sought for: but at length it behov'd him to depart, with∣out knowing any thing of the picture. Horten∣sius then demanded where Agenor was, but 'twas told him the Prince had commanded him to fol∣low him; he then began to wonder that none of his attendants had been with him since they knew he was wounded. But at last, the Priest believing it reasonable to let him know the truth, acquainted him, that the Prince of Messena appear'd at first very much afflicted for his wounds, and had him∣self assisted to carry him; but while he was dres∣sing, he chang'd his sentiments, went away very sad, put guards upon him, prohibited any of his servants to come to him, commanded Agenor to follow him, and that he lately heard he had caus'd his Cabinet to be seiz'd. O gods! (cry'd the un∣happy Hortensius) is it possible I should be so inno∣cent, and so miserable? after which he was silent, and suffer'd himself to be lifted into the Chariot which attended him. One of the Chirurgeons who had dress'd him, being unwilling to forsake him, took horse with the Guards to follow him; and this Illustrious wounded person, notwith∣standing his late victory in the Olympick Games, and the glory he had gotten in several Combats, par∣ticularly in that fresh one with Attalus, found him∣self the most unfortunate of men: Great griefs of mind, oftentimes causing forgetfulness of those of the body, Hortensius felt little pain in his wounds, by reason of his perplexity, in imagining Melan∣thus might perhaps believe he had betrai'd him, and Elismonda be offended with him, if she came

to understand this adventure. Yet there were some moments in which he trusted in his own innocence towards his Master, and the respect he had had to his Mistriss, hoping he might appease Melan∣thus, as soon as he could speak with him: but he always believ'd he should be forc'd to quit his for∣mer commerce with Elismonda, and be at least de∣priv'd of the contentment of seeing her, if he desir'd to cure Melanthus of his jealousie. Hortensius entertain'd himself after this sad manner in the Chariot he was put into; the diversity of objects did not divert him from such melancholly musing, it being night when he set forth to depart. But as it is not possible to travel with much speed at such hours, day began to appear, when he was yet sixty surlongs from Elis; besides, his being wound∣ed, occasion'd him to go very gently. The first rayes of the Sun beginning now to break forth, and all objects becoming easily discernable, Hortensius perceiv'd he was in a Valley, at the end of which, where he was to pass by, he beheld a Chariot bro∣ken, two Women standing at the foot of a tree, and several men on horseback about them; but drawing nearer, he discerned that those two wo∣men were Elismonda and Cleontine. This sight amaz'd him, and made him almost forget that he was wounded. He put forth his head, and respect∣fully saluted the Princess of Elis; who was not less astonish'd than he: and turning pale, and cast∣ing a languishing look upon Cleontine, Alas! (said she to her, sighing) behold the unfortunate Hor∣tensius! As she spoke these words, he that com∣manded the Guards, seeing this Chariot, and un∣derstanding it was going to Elis, thought he might conveniently leave Hortensius in a cottage of Shep∣herds that was hard by, and make use of his to carry the Princess of Elis; for the axel-tree of hers was broken, and her Ladies by the Prince's order were left behind with Andronice, as well as the fair Chrysilia, and the charming Claricia. He whose design this was intended to send the same Cha∣riot back to Hortensius, as soon as the Princess should be arriv'd. But for that the Command∣er of Hortensius's Convoy, had express order to carry him to Elis, he oppos'd the proposal of the other, to leave him in that Shepherds cottage, alledging, it behov'd him to do what was com∣manded him, and the most he dare do, was to give way for the Princess and Cleontine to go into Hor∣tensius's Chariot, though usually decency does ne∣ver allow men to be in the same Chariot with a Princess of that rank. During this contest, Hortensius's Chariot stay'd right against Elismonda: But though this unhappy Lover was not ignorant, all she said would be related to Melanthus, yet he could not contain himself from speaking to the Princess. I desire your pardon, Madam (said he to her) If I do not pay you all the respect I owe you: but the condition I am in, ought to ob∣lige you not to hate me. I wish to the gods (an∣swer'd Elimonda) you were in the same conditi∣on you were in the first day I knew you; you would be less miserable, and I more happy. For I fear all things (added she) from the Prince of Messena, since you are no longer with him. Upon these words, the two Commanders, who had con∣tested civilly together, told the Princess what they had concluded on, which when Hortensius heard, he endeavoured, as wounded as he was. to get out of the Chariot, but his weakness hinder'd his pur∣pose, the Princess also commanding him not to stir from his place, adding with very great prudence, that prisoners having more caution to use than others, she had rather expect till another Chariot were fetcht from Elis, than to enter into that where he was. As she was speaking this, the generous Lover beheld her in such a manner, that Cleontine well perceiv'd, he passionately lov'd Elis∣monda. Who on her part, look'd upon him with so obliging a compassion, that it rather deserv'd the name of tenderness than pitty; but neither of them dar'd to express all their sentiments. At length Hortensius speaking, I beseech you Madam, (said he) command me to be left in that Cottage I see there, and serve your self of the Chariot I am in, since 'tis perhaps the last time of my life, I shall have the honor to do you a small service. Hortensius had scarce spoke this, but Melanthus appear'd and broke off their discourse: his pre∣sence equally surpriz'd Elismonda and Horensius, and himself was not a little amaz'd to find them together. He that was incharg'd to conduct Elis∣monda, went to him forthwith, to inform him of the accident of the broken Chariot, and the meet∣ing that of Hortensius's: but as he was going to tell him the proposal he had made, to oblige Elis∣monda to use Hortensius's Chariot, he seem'd very much incens'd, and before he approach'd near the Princess of Elis, he commanded they should car∣ry that illustrious wounded person to Elis, adding, that he would give convenient orders for conduct∣ing the Princess thither too. And hapning to have met two Chariots of Ladies passing by, who after they had seen the Olympick Games, staid at Olym∣pia, and were then returning to Elis, he caus'd one of his followers to go to the place where he had overtaken them, and desire them to come and take up the Princess of Elis; which in a little time ac∣cordingly they did. In the mean time Hortensius was very desirons to speak to Melanthus, notwith∣standing he much fear'd it, but he had not oppor∣tunity: for they speeded his Chariot away so fast, that all he could do, was only to say to one of the Princesses guards: I beseech you, (said he to him) do me the favor to tell the Prince, I am not more unworthy of the honor of his friendship, than I was the next day after the last battel, wherein I had the good fortune to fight near him After which he put forth his head to salute Melanthus, though he was far behind, and then turning towards the Princess, with more strength than he seemed capa∣ble of; I wish to the gods, Madam, I may at least understand you are happy, before I dye. And I wish to the gods (answer'd she, beholding him passionately) you be not yet more unhappy than now I see you, though at the present, you are worthy of all my compassion. Hortensius being after these words hurried away, Melanthus alight∣ing from his Horse came towards her, expecting the Chariots which were now in sight, to come and take her up; I perceive you are very sad, Ma∣dam (said he to her) and the miseries of Hor∣tensius affect you very sensibly. If you find me very sad (answer'd she) I find you very unjust and inhumane, in accusing an innocent person, and being so little sensible in the miseries of a man, who was not wounded but in overcoming your most mortal enemy. He has offended me more replyed he with a tone sufficiently fierce) in loving the Princess of Elis, than he has served me in

killing Attalus. For, in brief, he fought only to save his own Honor and Life; but in loving you, Madam, he has done all he could to cause my death, since I doubt not, but his affection induced you to contemn mine. I have already told you (answe∣red she) that if Hortensius loves me, you ought to redouble your affection towards him, since he has ever imployed all possibilities, to induce me to love you, and you alone by your injustice have forced me to hate you. Ah! Madam (cryed he) do not undertake to deceive a jealous and unhappy Lover, who is more quick-sighted than others. Elismonda was about to answer Melanthus, but the arrival of those two Chariots of Ladies hin∣dred her, for being desirous to be free from him, she took the occasion, and entered into one of these Chariots (the Ladies of both which alighted to leave her the choice) Cleontine following her, and the Ladies crowding into the other, because Me∣lanthus would not permit any to be in that of Elis∣monda. They who had order to conduct the Prin∣cess, went forward, and Melanthus taking his Horse, rid more slowly than he had done before, regulating his Horses pace so, as always to have Elismonda's Chariot in his eye: In the mean time, they who conducted Hortensius, carried him in∣to a Tower, where the Princess of Elis, used to put Prisoners of State. Elismonda as soon as she arrived, was very diligently guarded in the Palace, where no person had liberty to see her besides Cle∣ontine, and some women to attend on her.

But although Melanthus had left Andronice, at the house of the virtuous Elisante, on purpose to deceive the Prince of Cyparissa, and Eumenes had done all he could by his Masters orders to keep the Princess of Elis's departure from coming to his knowledge; yet he was advertised of it by a slave belonging to Andronice, whom he caused to be corrupted by one of his followers. Understanding therefore that Elismonda was carried away to Elis, and the Princess of Messenia was to stay a day lon∣ger at the house of Elisante, he believed he could not better serve Elismonda, as affairs stood, than by taking away the Princess Andronice, for whom Melanthus had as great a friendship as he was ca∣pable of. He communicated his design to two or three of the most considerable Officers of his Army, who were with him, and to two men of principal quality in Pisa. At first they told him, that the truce being to last some days longer, this action would be a publick breach of it. But the Prince of Cy∣parissa represented to them, that the secret convey∣ing away of the Princess of Elis, and the disgrace of Hortensius, signified Melanthus not very sol∣licitous about a peace, that he had some great dis∣contentment upon his mind, and therefore it would be best to provide for the Princess of Elis's safety. Yet they with whom he was thus urgent, would not have yielded to his proposal, had it not fallen out, that precisely at the same time, news came that there had been a Skirmish between some horse∣men of Melanthus's Army, and some Troops of that of the Prince of Cyparissa, with assurance also that is was began by the forces of Melanthus. So that this first act of hostility serving for a pretext, they no longer disallowed the Prince of Cyparissa's design, which he betook himself immediately to execute: To which purpose he put himself in the head of three hundred horse, and went to take away Andronice, at the Castle of Melisaris. At his first coming, Eumenes endeavored to make re∣sistance, but being presently wounded, he became a prisoner. The fair Chrysilia, and the charming Claricia, had the same destiny with the Princess of Messenia: but as for the virtuous Elisante, she remained free in the middle of two Enemy-Ar∣mies, and was alike favoured by both parties; so greatly is Virtue respected by all the World. But the Princess of Cyparissa, who only sought Elismonda's safety, and infinitely honored the Princess Andronice, treated her with all imagina∣ble respect, and all the Ladies of her Train with extream civility. He desired pardon of the Prin∣cess of Messenia, for the violence he did to her, he assured her, it was only to serve a Princess whom she loved, and who loved her, and to re∣strain part of the impetuosity of the Prince her Brother. Andronice being very discreet, and esteeming the Prince of Cyparissa, pardoned the violence he did her upon the account of his ex∣cessive passion, and told him that he was without doubt in a wrong course, for that she could have done the Princess Elismonda better service, if she were with the Prince her Brother, than he could do by keeping her at Pisa. But the thing being already done, there was no remedy left. Eumenes also said the same to the Prince of Cyparissa, at his going to visit him, when he was at Pisa, which occasioned this Lover the regret of thinking that perhaps what he had done, might rather prejudice than advantage the Princess of Elis. But that which compleated his affliction, was, that the day fol∣lowing he was advertised of that which till then he had been ignorant of, namely Hortensius's love to Elismonda, and Melanthus's jealousie and be∣lief that Elismonda loved Hortensius; for his Max∣ims having always been, to cease to love, as soon as he believed his Mistress favored another, this incertainty into which this news brought him, gave him greater torment than can be imagined. But if the Prince of Cyparissa suffered very much, Melanthus also suffered all the inquietudes that Love, Jealousie, and Ambition could afflict him with; especially, when he understood the Prince of Cyparissa had carried away the Princess Andro∣nice, with all the Ladies that were with her, and that Eumenes was a Prisoner. That which per∣plexed him besides infinitely, was that he per∣ceived the Inhabitants of Elis, murmured very much at the imprisonment of Hortensius; for ha∣ving seen, that 'twas he that hindered Melanthus from continuing to treat them Tyrannically, as he had done before his coming, they vehemently feared least he should quit the moderation he had used ever since that time, and treat them worse than ever. And indeed their fear was not without grounds, for this Prince resumed his former vio∣lence. At length War broke out again between both parties; yet the Prince of Cyparissa sent Pro∣positions of Peace to Melanthus, offering to deli∣ver the Princess Andronice, provided he would re∣store Elismonda: but he derided the proposition when it was made him, and contented himself to answer fiercely, that he would go to Pisa, to fetch the Princess his Sister, as soon as he had mar∣maryed Elismonda, and put Hortensius to death. In the mean time the wounds of this Illustrious Veien∣tine, notwithstanding his unwillingness, did not grow worse in Prison, though he was the most un∣happy of all men, chiefly because he was the most

generous; for having always loved without hope, he was throughly accustomed to be miserable in re∣ference to his Love. But his virtue having ever been immaculate, he could not suffer his Master should believe he had betrayed him. Besides that, fearing also, least he should be transported to some violence against Elismonda, his perplexities were beyond all conception. He found some consola∣tion in thinking he perceived a very tender pitty towards him in the eyes of his dear Princess; but this comfort was overwhelmed, with so many dif∣ferent sorrows, and these moments of sweetness followed with so many tormenting hours, that he moved compassion in those that guarded him. Up∣on which, he prevailed with him that commanded his Guards, to desire urgently the favor of the Prince, that he might speak to him once more du∣ring his life. Melanthus refus'd it at first very roughly; but the next day a jealous sentiment in∣duced him to desire what he refused. So when the unfortunate Hortensius least expected him, he be∣held this violent Prince enter into his chamber, but with so much fury in his eyes, that he had cause to think the Prince came himself to denounce to him the sentence of his death. Yet he seemed not moved at it, but on the contrary, being very glad of the opportunity to speak to him, he half rose up to salute him, the most respect∣fully the condition he was in permitted him. And beholding him with submission, I give you thanks my Lord (said he to him) for granting me what I desired of you; for I should have dyed with despair, if I had left you in the opinion that I had betrayed you. I doubted not, (answered this violent Prince) but you desired to speak with me, only to tell me things contrary to truth; and being ignorant that I had discovered your crimes, would dare to deny, you are in love with the Princess of Elis. No, my Lord, (replyed Hor∣tensius generously) I will not owe my justificati∣on to a lye, but only to my own Virtue. I confess to you therefore, that in spight of all my reluct∣ancy, I became enamoured on the Princess Elis∣monda, and that whether I will or no, I shall love her, perhaps, eternally. Ha! unworthyness! (cry'd Melanthus, transported with fury) call you it being innocent, to become Rival to your Master? Is it possible to love, without desiring to be loved again? and can you desire to be Elismonda's, with∣out being willing to render me unhappy, and with∣out being the most criminal of all men? If Love were a thing voluntary (answered Hortensius) I should be ungrateful, and unworthy in becoming amorous of a Princess whom you love; but it not being so, my passion ought not to be ranked with my crimes, but only the effects of it consi∣dered. Thus my Lord, (added he) I can confi∣dently say, that I am not only innocent, but that I have merited something in relation to your in∣terests. For in brief, I have encountred with my passion, as much as I could, and when I found I could not overcome it, I imployed the utmost pow∣ers of my reason, not to do any thing that might injure you. I have not only loved without hope, but I have given bounds to my thoughts, and my most secret desires never prejudiced the fidelity that I owe you. No, my Lord, I have not desired to be loved again, I have done all I could to promote the interests of your affection, and never attempt∣ed to make the least discovery of my own. Why then (demanded Melanthus roughly) did you write those four amorous Verses, in the place of Elis∣monda's picture? I know no reason for it my self, my Lord, (answered Hortensius) and that action, as criminal as it seems to you, is but an extrava∣gance, and no such crime as you imagine it. For sincerely, I believed I should never be discovered, and concealed my self so well, in disguising my hand, that unless you have acquainted the Prin∣cess of Elis of it, she is still ignorant that 'twas I who took away her Picture; so great a truth is it, that I have been faithfull to you. But what de∣sign had you then, in doing this rash piece of gal∣lantry? (said Melanthus) I have already told you, my Lord, (answered Hortensius) that I know not my self; and all that I am able to say is, that I could not hinder my self from doing it, but that at that instant, an excess of love made me imagine, some light consolation, in thinking the Princess of Elis would understand, there was a person loved her, who she did not know. I believed also, that she would not open the Picture-case, till she were returned home, and that as she is very reserved, she would not tell the adventure to any person, and so without endangering any, I should pro∣cure my self a delectation, that would not pre∣judice you, and indeed never could; for the Prin∣cess could not prefer an Unknown Lover, and whom she was never to know, before a great Prince, accomplisht with a thousand excellent qualities. But in fine, My Lord, (added he) to justifie to you, what's past by what's to come, if I dye not by your indignation, and you will please to give me my liberty, I declare to you, that I will depart from you, never to return; and though I have no hope to be able to extinguish my love to the Prin∣cess Elismonda, yet that violent passion shall tor∣ment only my self, and never cause me to do any thing, either against her or you. Perhaps the same courage, which made me find a Sanctuary in your Court, may make me find another in some place whither I shall go, but as I shall seek nothing but death, when I have forsaken my Master and my Mistress, let Fortune work her pleasure upon me, I shall never repine. To conclude, my Lord, as I am not inconsiderable, so I shall not accuse you of injustice, though you are in some sort un∣just towards me, for I know how extreamly dif∣ficult it is, to be equitable when we love ardent∣ly. Therefore all the favor I desire of you, is, ne∣ver to use any course but gentleness, to oblige the Princess Elismonda to render you happy. If you do otherwise, you will cause her to hate you; and if you take the sweeter course, 'tis possibly you may at length induce her to love you. Ah! Hortensius, (cryed Melanthus) the counsel you give me, has more regard to Elismonda than to me. However it be (answered he sighing) the counsel I give you is faithful, and I have no interest in it. After this, there was a sufficiently long silence between these two Lovers, Melanthus betook himself to walk in Hortensius's chamber, Hortensius leaving him∣self to be transported by his musings, fell into such a profound cogitation, that he took no longer notice that Melanthus was in his Chamber. But though Melanthus came to see Hortensius with all the indignation that a jealous and incensed Rival is capable of, part of his choler was now appeased.

It seemed to him, that Hortensius spoke with sin∣cerity, and was not so culpable as he had believed him. Nevertheless, though it were so, and he was not ignorant, what great need he had of his valor and counsel, and the credit he had gained among the Souldiers, and the People, he could not resolve to keep Hortensius with him. For he had informed Elismonda himself, that Hortensius was amorous of her, and observed that she had very favorable inclinations towards him; and then he imagined, that if Hortensius had believed himself as much as in her favor as he was, he could not have contained himself in the terms he now found him in. So that considering he could not put Hor∣tensius to death, and indeed now not desiring it, he looked upon his banishment as a necessary course to his own quiet, though very prejudicial to the good of his State. But as an amorous Prince is most sensible of the torment of his own mind, and desires rather the peace of his thoughts, than that of his people, he immediately resolved to give Hortensius liberty, on condition that he would retire himself out of that Country forthwith. As soon as he had made this resolution, returning to Hor∣tensius with a different air, from that he came first with, I will believe (said he to him) all that you tell me, but in believing it, (I confess to you Hor∣tensius) I can no longer confide in your Virtue; and I think I may also add, that you would be to blame, if you confided in it your self. I have without doubt, more obligation to you, than you have to me, since I have not so much as recom∣pensed your services; but after all, I can never consent that you see Elismonda. Your worth and your love joyned together, give me much fear; and though you were even capable to speak to her always in my favor, and never for your self, yet you would not cease to prejudice me by that very virtue. But on the contrary, the good offices you would do me, would ruine me in her mind, and establish you there. Therefore necessity enforces me to deprive my self of all the services I might receive from you, to prevent my self from be∣coming perfectly miserable, and perfectly crimi∣nal. For in truth I declare to you, 'twas injustice in me to desire your death, and I know not what I shall think of, the next quarter of an hour, so much has jealousie disordered my reason. After this Hortensius spoke many affecting things to the Prince, insisting always to oblige him to take no other course with Elismonda, than that of sweetness. Melanthus having heard Hortensius with sufficient calmness, departed, after having resolv'd Horten∣sius, should be dismissed, as soon as his wounds would suffer him to travel. In the mean while, Melanthus to appease the people, who repined much at the imprisonment of Hortensius, conceded permission to several persons to see him; so that, during this interval, which was between liberty and imprisonment, many propositions were made to him, that he would take part against Melanthus, which he rejected with a generosity worthy of his great heart. But what satisfaction soever there be in doing what we ought, and being contented with one's self, Hortensius was notwithstanding very miserable; for he was deeply in love, and every instant that his health mended, hasted on his exile, and reduced into his mind, that he should never see Elismonda, whom he loved a thou∣sand times more than his life. On the other side the Princess of Elis, who every day more hated Melanthus and compassionated Hortensius, under∣standing it was reported, the Prince of Messenia would banish him, as soon as he was cured, was very much afflicted at it, thinking she lamented him only as her Protector, though without doubt her heart considered him as her Lover. In this condition she imagined, that if Hortensius could go over to her side, Melanthus would soon be over∣come; she considered also, that Hortensius not be∣ing born a Subject to Melanthus, and Melanthus having ill treated him, he might go and put him∣self into Pisa, and turn the balance of Victory, and she was so much the more pleased with this thought for that she hoped the valor of Hortensius, would diminish the luster of the Prince of Cyparissa's actions, whom she did not affect. This being firm in her mind, her only care was, what course she might take to come to speak with Hortensius, be∣fore his departure. She communicated therefore her thoughts to Cleontine, who at first did not ap∣prove her design; but at length remembring that Hortensius drew victory with him, when he came to Melanthus, she believed that in the desperate estate wherein the affairs of the Princess were, it behoved to neglect nothing. For though during the Olympick Games the Prince of Cyparissae had en∣deavored to engage several people of Greece, in the interests of this Princess, yet his Negotiations were unprofitable, and ended only in proposals full of difficulties. But at length (to shorten my re∣lation as much as I can) Cleontine consented to what Elismonda desired, and by means of one of the Officers who commanded those that guarded the Princess, they brought it about that a Letter was delivered to Hortensius when he was cured; for being to depart within two days, Melanthus kept him no longer in guard, but he went whither he pleased. This Prince was then so affected with a sense of Hortensius's generosity, that in spight of his love and his jealousie, he felt the friend∣ship which he had for him, to revive in his breast. In the mean time you must know that the Princess having absolutely gained him to her that had procu∣red Cleontine's Letter to be delivered to Hortensi∣us, (for Elismonda would not write it) that he promised to bring him to her, if he would come. You may judge, Madam, in what condition Hor∣tensius was when he was offered to be brought to the sight of the sole person of the World, whom he loved and could love. Cleontine's Ticket was al∣most in these terms.

THere is a person that desires to bid you Adieu, having a service to request of you, and esteeming you sufficiently, to be wil∣ling to be obliged to you.

You may easily imagine what agitation Hortensi∣us felt in his breast. He had resolved never to see Elismonda, and resented an incredible grief for it; and he was preparing himself for his departure to go and seek his death. For in this condition a Lover always believes he cannot live. And now this afflicted Lover finds beyond his expectation the person he loves desires to see him, and re∣quests a service from him; his heart was moved

troubled at it; and though he changed not his sentiments, and resolved to be always faithful to his Master, yet he had not the power to refuse that which his Mistress, yea and himself too de∣sired. He knew well that he could not go see the Princess without exposing himself to a great dan∣ger, and that if Melanthus should discover it, he were utterly lost: but after all, he had too much love to be afraid to die in obeying Elismonda. He engaged himself therefore, to come one night to one of the Gates of the Garden, where this Offi∣cer promised to let him in, and to lead him into Cleontin's Chamber by a back stairs. And accord∣ingly, the evening before the intended departure of Hortensius, this generous Lover went to the place where he was expected, and without being perceived, was conducted into Cleontine's Chamber, whither Elismonda came also. Never did Horten∣sius feel so great trouble in his Soul as at that time. Elismonda on her part appeared fearful, and trem∣bling, and though she had no Criminal intention, there was nevertheless some confusion in her eyes. Cleontine her self also was extreamly apprehensive, least this interview should be discovered, and there∣fore not to loose such precious moments, seeing the Princess of Elis answered not to the first Com∣plement Hortensius made to her, he urged her to tell him what she desired of him. Is it possible, Madam (said Hortensius then) that an unfortunate exile should be able to render any service to the person in the World he honors most? Yes Horten∣sius (answered Elismonda) you are able to do me a great service, since you need but go and put your self into Pisa, to cause me to reconquer my State, and regain my liberty, and crown your self with glory; for I conceive after the ingratitude Melan∣thus has shewn you, you are not restrained by ho∣nor from bearing Arms against him. Ah! Madam, (cryed Hortensius) what do you demand of me, and how rigorous a trial do you put my virtue up∣on? But, in brief, Madam, (said he) before I an∣swer directly to what you command me, I must acquaint you with the true condition of my Soul, though I had resolved never to discover it to you. But I beseech you, Madam, what presumption so∣ever you apprehend in my words, be pleased to permit me the liberty of speaking. You shall af∣terwards punish me for my boldness as you please; and to oblige you to grant me this request, consider Madam, that this is the last time of my life I shall ever have the honor to speak to you, that I am de∣parting to morrow morning never to see you more, and so I shall tell you but once that I love you more ardently then ever any person loved; and that 'tis only for that reason that I am forsaking you never to see you more. How! Hortensius: (interrupted Elismonda) I did not desire you to come hither to lose the respect you owe me; and if you continue to speak to me in the strain you have begun, you will force me to repent of the fa∣vor I do you. In the name of the gods, Madam (answered Hortensius) do not repent of it, consi∣der once more that you will never see me again, and since I must of necessity refuse what you de∣sire of me, it is very just that you hear my reasons. But if what you say were true, (replyed Elismonda blushing) you would not refuse it; since a perfect Lover never refused any thing to the person he lo∣ved. Yet once more, Madam (said Hortensius) permit me to speak what displeases you, to the end I may afterwards tell you that which justifies me. Speak it then (answered Elismonda) but if it be possible, do not force me to hate you as much as I esteem you. If you should hate me, Madam (replyed Hortensius) it would be with very great injustice; for I am really worthy of all your com∣passion. If you will call to mind how zealous I have been with you in behalf of the Prince of Mes∣senia, you will easily conceive what I have suffe∣red, since 'tis certain, I never spoke a word to you for his advantage, which cost me not a thou∣sand sighs. 'Tis true, the impossibility of ever be∣coming happy assisted my virtue in this difficulty, and to tell you yet something more considerable, 'tis also true that seeing nothing more advantage∣ous to your interests than to marry Melanthus, I pressed it still rather for your own sake than his, and at present though I love you even to adora∣tion, I still exhort you to resolve to marry him. But what do I say? (recollected this transported Lover.) No, no, Madam, I counsel you nothing; and I conjure you only to consider that what you desire of me, would dishonor me unprofitably both to your self and me, if I should obey you. For you are in Melanthus's power; perhaps I could make a shift to defend Pisa, without delivering you out of his hands; and on the contrary, I am perswaded, there is nothing more effectual to induce that Prince to the extreamest violence, than to render him more unhappy than he is. And be∣sides, Madam, suppose I should deliver you, I should do it only for the Prince of Cyparissa, whom I am informed you love; and the unfortunate Hor∣tensius after having done an action unworthy of a man truly generous, should not render you hap∣py, and withall see himself still an exile. For in truth, I love you enough, to be able to love you all my life without being happy; but I love you too much ever to be Spectator of the felicity of one of my Rivals. Withall, Madam, since the con∣dition of your Fortune requires you to marry a Prince whom you love not, it would be better to marry Melanthus, in order to setling peace in the whole Countrey of Elis, (if you must marry one of the two) than by continuing the War to be ob∣liged to marry the Prince of Cyparissa. Thus Ma∣dam it is necessary that the miserable Hortensius de∣part from you with the consolation of having done nothing that renders him unworthy your esteem. Melanthus received me generously into his Court, and as unknown as I was to all, and my self too, placed me above all the persons of qua∣lity in his Dominions. He confided in me, and has not treated me ill, but only because he loves you, and I adore you. Ha! Hortensius (answered Elis∣monda, blushing) Melanthus is greatly mistaken in believing you amorous of me; for if you loved me, you would consider, that not being born a subject to him, you might with no injury to your honor, change your side, and do what I desire. Alass! Madam, (replyed Hortensius) you little know what a contest rends my Soul, and what torment I suffer in denying you. Yes Madam, (added he) whatever passion I have for glory, I would not answer for my virtue, if I saw any thing in your eyes that would allow me to hope, and If I could forget that the condition of your Fortune and mine is an invincible obstacle to

my happiness. Therefore, Madam, if you would put my generosity to the utmost tryal, you must let me understand that my respectful passion does not displease you, and that it would not be im∣possible but I may be loved. Ha! Hortensius (an∣swered she) you desire too much, and that which you request of me is much more against my glo∣ry, than what I request of you is against yours. Go therefore, go where your destiny calls you, and leave me to dye in restraint. While Elismonda was speaking this, there was heard a great noise upon the stairs, and a moment after, Melanthus was seen enter into Cleontine's Chamber; but with such fu∣ry in his eyes that never any man seemed so incen∣sed. He immediately gave Hortensius the most sharp language that choler could inspire the most furious with: he also spoke with great indignation to Elismonda, and without hearing the excuses of either, commanded Hortensius should be remitted into prison, and the Princess of Elis confined so close, as not to go out of her chamber. She offe∣red more than once to tell him, that Hortensius was not culpable, that it was her desire to speak with him, and that he had refused all she had requested of him, but he would understand nothing but his own fury. So his orders were obeyed, and Hortensius and Elismonda, saw themselves now more unhappy than ever. At their separation they beheld one another in so tender a manner, that they both understood at the same instant their love was attained to the highest pitch of ardor possi∣ble. This last misfortune of theirs was caused by that Officer, who introduced Hortensius into the Palace, which he did only out of an intention to destroy him; for that having been sometimes bred up under Attalus, whom Hortensius had slain, he was glad of an opportunity to revenge his death by such a treachery, and accordingly went and ad∣vertised Melanthus, that Hortensius was entred in∣to Cleontine's Chamber. But in brief, Madam, I must pass over in few words this turn of the For∣tune of these Illustrious persons, to tell you, that Melanthus heeding neither policy, nor humanity, nor gratitude, thought no other but to put Horten∣sius to death, whom he then lookt upon as the most unworthy and perfidious of men. And that which caused him to regard him with the greater hatred, was, that this generous Lover, out of an excess of affection to Elismonda, would not go about to justifie himself in the manner he might have done, by producing Cleontine's Letter; because he feared, least if he did so, the Princes fury should be turned against the Princess of Elis. Thus, though he were perfectly innocent in reference to Melanthus, yet he was apprehended by him as most Criminal. Hereupon he kept no measure in his revenge, and without observing any form of solemnly condemning Hortensius, only command∣ed he should be put to death. But this generous prisoner being extreamly well beloved, there was no haste made to execute that order; but some ru∣mor of this bloody design being spread abroad among the people, they made an insurrection. There were also some persons of quality that put themselves in the head of the people, and endea∣vored to break open the prison. Melanthus was soon advertised of this; but instead of minding to appease this tumult by changing his orders, he rather resolved to hasten the death of Hortensius, believing when things was done, the people would be appeased of themselves. But as the gods pro∣tected the innocence of this generous prisoner, he was rescued so opportunely, that had they who endeavored to force the Gates of the Tower, been but one quarter of an hour longer in becoming Masters of it, he had been lost. For they who were designed to put him to death, being entred by a back door, were already at that of his Cham∣ber, when the incensed people seized on that of the Tower. So that he was delivered very happily; which being done, the most considerable of his de∣liverers told him this was not enough, but it was necessary to go and deliver Elismonda too. Yet Hortensius's generosity being always the same, he thanked them for having saved his life, and con∣jured them not to oblige him to draw his sword against a Prince who was his Master, exhorting them only to send to him, and require Elismon∣da's liberty; for in the disorder things then were in, he feared if he should appear amongst Me∣lanthus's Enemies, that violent Prince might be so enraged as to put Elismonda to death. This answer did not wholly content his liberators, though his virtue occasioned their admiration. Therefore they left him under the Guard of a small number of people, and were carried with an ardor, of which they were no longer Masters, to set upon the Princes Palace. Then it was, that fury wholly ingrossed Melanthus's mind, and understanding Hortensius was saved, he appre∣hended being destroyed himself. Yet being coura∣geous, he put himself in a readiness for defence, but as he was marching in the head of his fol∣lowers, he commanded aloud two or three of his attendants, that in case himself were slain, they should the same hour kill Elismonda, to the end Hortensius might be deprived of the seeing of her after his death; and after this fatal order, he went to the place where the fight was sharpest. In the mean while this hideous news being brought to Hortensius, this generous Lover no sooner heard it, but out of fear least Melanthus's death might cause that of Elismonda, he took up a resolution to defend his life, who so lately endeavored to put him to death; in order to which, he quitted him∣self from those that guarded him, and went to the place where the fight was. Melanthus having at first repelled the people, was then in a large place before his Palace, when Hortensius arriving with his Sword in his hand, broke through the multitude, and getting near the Prince of Mes∣senia, I come (said he to him) to defend the life of Elismonda by defending yours, and to force you to repent of your cruelty. This courageous action so astonisht all that beheld it, that it suspended the hatred and fury of both parties; after which, Hor∣tensius addressing to those that had delivered him, my dear Liberators (said he to them) save Melan∣thus's life, to save that of Elismonda. Melanthus instead of being mollified by these words, was yet more enraged, and beholding Hortensius fierce∣ly, Ha! Caitiffe (said he to him) I will not owe my life a second time to you; and since you have taught me to be ungrateful, receive the death I give you. In saying which he made a great blow at Hortensius, who avoided it by drawing back, not willing to return it, as he might have done. 'Tis true, he had nothing now to do, but to mind

his own revenge; for Hortensius being beloved by both parties, and the action he did, being ex∣treamly noble and generous, they which were on Melanthus's side defended him more faintly, and they of the other environed him with such pre∣cipitation, that he was taken and carried to the Tower, where Hortensius had been prisoner, who was not able to hinder it from being otherwise. Yet telling those that guarded the Prince, that it behoved them to preserve his life, for the safe∣ty of Elismonda's, who was in the hands of peo∣ple that depended on him, he went in the head of the party of the seditious to the place where Elis∣monda was prisoner, whither also the Ministers of Melanthus's cruelty already were come. But as they beheld the party coming against them, and Hortensius, in the head of those that were going to beat down the gates, they were struck with amaze∣ment, and believing Melanthus dead, instead of betaking themselves to obey the orders he had gi∣ven them, sought to escape away, and saved themselves by a postern gate. But the Officer who had betrayed Hortensius and Elismonda, com∣ing to this place, made all the resistance he could with some of his Souldiers; but Hortensius having slain him, the rest fled, and this Illustrious Veien∣tine presently saw the fair Elismonda in his power. Yet his Virtue continued firm in this conjuncture, between what he owed to Melanthus, and what he owed to Elismonda; for without attributing any thing to himself in this action, you see, Madam, (said he addressing to her) your Subjects are faith∣ful to you; but I beseech you remember, if they restore you to liberty, the Prince of Messenia has well treated you, and that owing my life to the Princess Andronice, I ought to take care for the preservation of that of the Prince her Brother. Send therefore your orders, Madam, (continued this Illustrious Veientine) to those who have carried him to the Tower, where I was prisoner, to the end they do him no violence. You shew me so great an example of generosity (answered she) that I am unwilling to contradict you; but Hortensius (added the Princess) since I may believe I am free—As she was speaking this, they heard the noise of a thousand confused voices after which, one of the principal Inhabitants of Elis, came to inform Elismonda, that the Prince of Messenia was rescued, as he was leading to the Tower, where they intended to put him; that he had routed those that guarded him, and maugre the valor of those that had taken him, one of his attendants having given him a Horse, he had saved him∣self, and took the way towards the Camp, fol∣lowed with a small party of his own, the In∣habitants of Elis having, in this sedition cut the rest to pieces. So that (continued this Ci∣tizen) there are no more enemies at least left in the City; and provided the valiant Hortensius will not forsake us, we hope notwithstanding our City being destitute of Walls, to defend our selves courageously against so furious an ene∣my. Elismonda, who knew what Hortensius's sen∣timents were, beheld him as a person that dared not answer. But this generous Lover, after have∣ing made a great violence upon himself, If you should be defended, Madam, (said he sighing) only by a Traytor, the gods would abandon you, and therefore 'tis better I should abandon you, and betake my self to my duty. For Melanthus has had grounds to believe me culpable, and his cruelty is innocent towards me: so that if you please, I must follow my resolution, and go find that Prince I leave you at liberty, in a City that is yours, and if the action I am going to do, re∣store me to any favor with Melanthus, I will m∣ploy it only to oblige him to make peace with you, and leave you in tranquillity. Hortensius spoke this with so sad an aspect; that all that be∣held him, had their hearts much affected with it; Elismonda her self, admired the generosity which excited indignation in her, and was so astonished at it, that she was not able to speak half her thoughts. But at length, Hortensius, notwith∣standing all Elismonda's importunities to divert him, went to find Melanthus; but as he was go∣ing, he found him ingaged in a very unequal fight, against a party of the Prince of Cyparissa, who was there in person, and by his exemplary va∣lor redoubled the courage of his Soldiers. The arrival of Hortensius caused an alteration in the face of things; Melanthus was already wounded when he arriv'd, and his forces put to the rout. But Hortensius joyning with the Prince of Messenia, who was infinitely amazed at this grand action, dis-ingaged him from five or six that environed him, encountered with the Prince of Cyparissa, wounded and took him prisoner, and turned the Victory to the party of a Prince, who had intend∣ed to take away his life the same day. 'Tis true, Melanthus was not in a condition to enjoy his own, for through the extraordinary agitation and heat of his spirits, and rage of his mind, his wound though not very great of it self, became mortal by reason of the bad temper of his body at that time, so that the next morning his life was despaired of. But for that his reason was still free, this action of Hortensius inclined him to believe what he al∣leadged for his innocence; and this Prince, as vio∣lent as he was, expressed a thousand obligations to him, and desiring to understand the truth of his condition, he no sooner was told the approaching of his fate, but he caused Hortensius to be call'd, who being come, jealousie remaining in his heart, even to death, he constrained him to promise him, never to deliver the Prince of Cyparissa, but on condition; that he should not marry Elismonda, and then told him, that he would declare him his Successor, provided he would marry Andronice. Hortensius whose great soul was never at a loss, told him, He would undoubtedly do his utmost, to hinder the Prince of Cyparissa from marrying Elismonda, but as for what related to the Princess Andronice, he conjured him to leave the Soveraign∣ty to her; as for himself, he was resolved to dye a thousand times for her service, and content himself with the glory he should have in serving her. Melanthus then knowing, that Hortensius's love to Elismonda, was that, that hindred him from accepting his offer, was despighted at it; so that he turned away rudely to the other side, and continued some time without speaking. The approaches of death changing nothing in the sen∣timents of this exasperated Lover, he caused the Commanders of his Forces to be assembled (for they had carried him to the Camp) and told them,

that he commanded them to obey Hortensius, and acknowledge him for their Prince, in case he would Marry Andronice, hoping Ambition at length would tempt his Rivals mind, and call him off from his love to Elismonda. After which, his reason failing him, he dyed the night follow∣ing. You may judge Madam, what a change his death caused in affairs; the Princess of Elis saw now, that her safety depended on Hortensius; for the Prince of Cyparissa was a Prisoner, and she had none to defend her interests, if the Messenians would carry on their Conquests. But when she was informed of the declaration Melanthus had made to Hortensius, she resented extream trouble at it, because, knowing of all the predictions, which assured he was to reign in some place; she doubted least he would accept what was offered him, and to be a Soveraign, marry Andronice, and renounce his love to her self. So that the secret in∣clination she had for him, excited a perplexity in her heart, that sufficiently resembled a violent love, though she concealed her sentiments. After Hortensius, to whom all Melanthus's Army sub∣mitted without scruple, had performed the last duties to the Prince of Messenia, he assembled the Officers of the Army, and declared to them, that he would be the first to obey the Princess Androni∣ce, and so would accept the glory of commanding them only, till she were at liberty. After which, he sent to the Princess Elismonda, to request her permission to speak with the Princess Andronice, conjuring her, not to refuse him a thing which might possibly produce peace. This proposition augmented the jealousie of Elismonda; but the ge∣nerosity of her heart not suffering her to discover it, she granted what Hortensius desired. According∣ly this interview was made in a Temple dedicated to the Nymph Gonniades, which stands between Pisa and the place where Hortensius was incamped. I shall omit to tell you, Madam, all that was spo∣ken in this interview, because it would be too tedious. At first Hortensius comforted Andronice, for the death of Melanthus, he related matters to her as they had passed, and acknowledged to her the love he had to Elismonda; and then coming to the declaration Melanthus had made in his favor, I pro∣test to you, Madam, (said he) though I were not prepossessed with an affection to the Princess Elis∣monda, and had a whole heart to give you, the respect alone I have for you, would cause me to serve my self no farther with this declaration, than to settle the Soveraign power in your hands, without ever desiring to oblige you to do for me, more than your own inclination should induce you to. But since I am unfortunate, and born only to be so, it is fit Madam, you would please to appoint me what I ought to do, in relation to your iberty; I know I owe my life to you, and consequently ought to do all for you; but Ma∣dam, if you continue the War, I shall be the most miserable person in the World; for I have as great a love for Elismonda, as I have friendship for you, if the respect I bear you may permit me to speak so. Judge therefore Madam, in what a condition, I am. Withall, as you are good, equitable, and generous, give your self the trouble of con∣sidering the State of my Soul and my Fortune, and then command soveraignly, what you would have me do; and be assured if it prove such as my heart cannot obey, I shall have recourse to death, for I should hold my self unworthy to live if I were able, not to do a thing you desired of me. Andronice heard this discourse of Hortensius calmly, and having only a friendship for him, and that very tender and generous, she judged of his proceeding without prejudice, and found it perfectly noble and gallant. So that she gave great testimonies to his merit, and conjured him to deliver her without making War, and negoti∣ate an Interview for her with Elismonda. Accord∣ingly, Hortensius being returned to the Camp, and desiring the same of the Princess Elismonda, she went to Pisa, where she was received with ma∣ny significations of joy. Assoon as she was there, she went with all speed to visite Andronice, out of a desire to know Hortensius's resolution. But when Andronice, who was desirous to serve Hortensius, told her, the love he had for her, restrained him from accepting what the late Prince of Messenia had offered, and that her self well approved the action, she resumed her former dearness to the Princess of Messenia. Thus peace was soon con∣cluded between these two fair Princesses, exclud∣ing the Prince of Cyparissa, whose friends they judged would cross their design. Yet Andronice told Elismonda, it depended on her to alter the Prince of Cyparissa's sentiments; for (continued she) when he visited me very civilly, after my coming to Pisa, I have heard him say a hundred times, that if he firmly believed you loved some other, he should not love you more, being per∣swaded 'tis possible to love eternally, even with∣out being loved again, provided the Lady who is loved, loves none at all, but that love ought to be given over, when 'tis known she does. So that it needs only to make him believe you love Hortensius, in order to curing him of his passion. The remedy is something difficult (answered Elis∣monda, blushing,) and 'tis requisite to endeavor the finding out some other. But not to amuse you longer, Madam, they began to propose a peace; the Prince of Cyparissa's friends at first opposed it, desiring Elismonda would promise to marry him when he should be free. But to finish this adventure gloriously for Hortensius, the Inhabi∣tants of Elis, Pisa, and Olympia, remembring the obligation they had to Hortensius, having under∣stood his high descent, and the advantgeous pre∣dictions made of him, believed they could do nothing more advantageous for their Country, than to oblige Elismonda to marry him; where∣fore they sent Delegates to her, to importune her to give them Hortensius for their Soveraign; but though what they required was very accep∣table to her, yet she would not grant it to those Delegates, because she would leave her self to be perswaded only by Hortensius. So there was a sufficiently long negotiation, at the end of which Andronice went to reign in Messenia, the Prince of Cyparissa had liberty to return into his own Coun∣trey, whither he went cured of his passion, when he understood Hortensius was loved, and as for Elismonda, by the consent of the people of Elis, she married Hortensius in the Temple of Olympia, in which, some days before the peace had been sworn. Since that, the Prince of Cyparissa, who

had an high esteem of Andronice, and was also much esteemed by him, has marryed her, and renewed Alliance with Hortensius, though he was his Rival. Thus the Son of the wise Mamilius, came to reign in Elis, and reigns there still with very great satisfaction and glory; and the fair Elis∣monda, who at present is at the age in which beauty is at perfection, accounts her self ab∣solutely happy in having marryed a person whose affection is alike ardent and dura∣ble.

Merigenes held his peace after this, and it be∣ing late, the company told him they would thank him the next day for the pleasure he had given them by his Relation, and that in the mean time, Herminius should be encharged to uniform Va∣lerius, of as much as was necessary for him to know, of the adventures of Hortensius.

The end of the First Book of the Fourth Part.

CLELIA. A Romane History. The Fourth Part. The Second BOOK.

HErminius, who was the most exact of all men, did not fail to go and give Valerius an ac∣count of what he had learnt, concerning Hortensius. At which time he found him im∣ployd in attending to a Spie, who had been sent to Veii, and reported that the Veien∣tines, being naturally superstitious, and credulous to the dictates of their Augurs, had conceiv'd great hopes their City should one day become Mi∣stress of Rome, if they could but preserve a Figure of Earth, of admirable workmanship, which Tar∣quin had heretofore caus'd a famous Sculptor of Veii to make, with design to place the same on the top of Jupiter's Temple, when it should be finish'd. This Superstitious opinion was occasion'd by a pretension of the Artist that made that excellent Figure, who affirm'd, that it was become great∣er than he had form'd it, since it was out of the Mould wherein he cast it; of which increas'd ex∣tension he was able to comprehend no reason. He protested also, that it was become as hard as Mar∣ble, without the assistance of fire: upon which event the Augurs reasoning according to their manner, assur'd that they who had this Figure in their power, should become Masters of their neigh∣bots. This information being given Valerius, who had caus'd the Temple of Jupiter to be finish'd, since the ejection of Tarquin, he determin'd to send a Herald to Veii, upon pretext of demanding that Figure, and offering to pay the price of it, for which Tarquin had agreed with the Sculptor that made it. Not, that he believ'd the happiness of Rome, depended on an Earthen piece of work, but he was glad of the occasion to send to Veii, to pro∣cure the deliverance of Horatius, who was capable of doing Rome considerable service; which like∣wise having been recommended to him by Clelius, he was unwilling to neglect any thing in order to it: for though he were friend to Aronces, yet he judg'd he should not disoblige him by delivering his Rival, since himself had been generous e∣nough not to discover him to Tarquin. Neverthe∣less, he first consulted with the other Consul, touch∣ing his design, by whose approbation it was rati∣fi'd. So a Herald was dispach'd to Veii. with in∣structions how to effect the business; but whate∣ver offer he made to purchase the Figure he desir'd, he was absolutely refus'd. On the contrary, the City payd the Artist that made it, his full re∣ward, and declar'd that that Figure having been made by Tarquin's order, should be deliver'd to none but that Prince, and that when he should have conquer'd his Kingdom. After which the Herald, according to his instructions, gave them to understand, that he whom they had sent to Rome, and order'd to go from thence to Elis, was taken prisoner; which very much surpris'd them, and they were so vehemently desirous to deliver him, that they offer'd to exchange several prisoners for him. The Herald taking advantage of this occasion, and the friendship Mamilius profess'd to the father of Clelia, acted with such dexterity, that he pro∣cur'd the slave of Mamilius, and three others to be deliver'd for that Veientine, who had been seiz'd at Rome. And this too with such dispatch, that in three daies the exchange was made, and Horati∣us return'd to Rome, with more joy than he durst have hop'd for; for upon his arrival there, he understood that Clelius was perswaded, Octavius receiv'd his wound from the hand of Aronces, that this generous Rival was prisoner in the Isle of Saules, that the affection of Clelius towards him∣self resum'd new strength, and that the second Con∣sul was his Relation. Indeed his joy abated upon his first interview with Clelia, for he found her deportment so cold towards him, that it was easie for him to understand his return afflicted her. For after he had been to wait upon the Consuls, and ren∣der them thanks for the care they had to deliver

him, he went to the house of Clelius, who ex∣pressing his satisfaction to see him by affectionate embraces, conducted him to the chamber of Sul∣picia, and there left him, not judging it meet to lead him to that of Octavius, who, he knew well did not affect him, for fear of augmenting his di∣stemper, which then began to decline. But Sul∣picia likewise having no great kindness for Horatius, testifi'd no excessive gratulation to him for his li∣berty; though out of her respect to Clelius, she receiv'd him very civilly; but as for Clelia, her discontent appear'd in her eys, as soon as she be∣held him. Within a few moments after, some La∣dies being arriv'd there, who diverted Sulpicia, he approach'd this fair Lady, and addressing to her, I perceive, Madam, (said he to her) my liberty is not very acceptable to you, and that if your vows had been heard, Aronces should now have been here, and I still at Veii: But however when you shall know that I owe my life a second time to my Rival, you will perhaps, be generous enough not to desire my death. To teach me generosity (an∣swer'd Clelia coldly) it would be requisite you were generous your self, and having so many ob∣ligations to Aronces, would courageously resolve to pretend no longer to my affection; since I have already given it him for my whole life. If it were possible to love without desiring to be belov'd Ma∣dam, (reply'd Horatius) I protest I would not detract the doing of any thing whatsoever, to fol∣low your counsels; but being the affection of a person belov'd, is desir'd with indispensable neces∣sity, it is not possible for me to renounce yours, and testifie such a kind of gratitude to a Rival, who can never attain to be happy; all I am able to do, is to continue in the bounds I have prescrib'd my self, to endeavour to surpass him only in virtue: and to manifest that I act not like a fierce enemy, but as a generous Lover obliged to his Rival; I de∣clare to you, that he is worthy of the glory which he possesses, that he loves you with as high an ar∣dor as he is capable of, though in a degree inferi∣or to mine, and that if Fortune were favourable to his Love, you ought to prefer him above all the rest of the world. But in the present State of affairs, it is obvious for you to judge, that though you should have absolutely resolv'd to suffer me to die miserable, he is never likely to live happy. No question, but I am ignorant of what Aronces destiny will prove (answer'd Clelia) but this I know, that if I cannot be his, I will never be any other persons in the world. Ah! Madam (said he to her with extream resentment) leave the fu∣ture in the secret of the gods, content your self with telling me that you love me not, and adding moreover cruelly, that you love Aronces; but pro∣nounce not so severe a sentence against me in favour of a Rival, who, as I have already said, can never be happy, though I should be perpetually misera∣ble. For, in brief, Madam, you are too intelligent not to know that Clelius will never give his Daugh∣ter to the Son of a Protector of Tarquin, though Porsenna himself should consent to the love of Aronces, of which nevertheless there is no appear∣ance. Wherefore then will you bereave of hope an unhappy person that adores you, that repents himself of his first violences, and who persists in a resolution he has taken, never to injure his Rival, but in aspiring to be, if possible for him, more vir∣tuous than he. If you are really intended to ap∣prove your Love to me by the greatness of your virtue (reply'd Clelia) promise me you will draw no yoadvantage from the kindness my Father has for beu, and that if he should become so minded, as to be willing to enforce me to marry you you will never consent to it. Ah! Madam (cry'd Horatius) you im∣prove your cruelty too high; and though I believe not I can ever be capable to suffer that you should be constrain'd to render me happy, yet I cannot ob∣tain of my self to promise you to resist Clelius, if he desire I should be so. Then never speak to me henceforth (answer'd Clelia) but in the presence of Clelius, and prepare your self to be as hated by me, as you were formerly upon the Lake of Thra∣symene. Well, Madam (said he to her) I promise you, I will never be happy against your pleasure; but promise me likewise that you will permit me to endeavour to perswade you, that 'tis an ex∣tream injustice to repell me from the injoyment of a happiness, he that is most worthy of it can ne∣ver possess. I have already at another time told you (answer'd Clelia) that 'tis impossible any thing should ever arrive to render you happy, as long as my affection is necessary to your felicity. But I will again repeat it to you, with all the sin∣cerity of a generous person. Be confident there∣fore, that should Aronces dye, or prove unfaith∣ful, or should ambition dispossess me out of his heart, I could never be capable of a second affecti∣on. Perhaps I might hate him if he had betray'd me, or at least have some sentiments of hatred a∣gainst him, (for those are two different things) but to love any other besides him, is to be reckon'd amongst impossibilities. I am of opinion, that without prejudice to innocence, Love may be once in our Lives entertain'd of that nature, wherewith I affect Aronces, but as for second affections, I con∣fess to you Horatius, I look upon all those with contempt that are capable of them. Prepare your self therefore courageously never to be lov'd by me, if so be you are not contented with my esteem and friendship, which are things I can dispense amongst all persons worthy of them. Ah! Madam (said he to her) wherefore must you give me so great cause of admiration at the same time you wound me with so deep a sorrow? but 'tis in vain, (added he) that you require me to promise you any thing, since I am not Master of my own sentiments, and I can∣not perform to my self the promises that I make. I change my resolution a hundred times in an hour; I will love, I will hate, I will forget; and after all these agitations, I find that all I resent is nothing but love, which disguises it self to aggravate my torment. Let us therefore leave the care of the future to those that are Masters of it: for your self know, Madam, what you have formerly wish'd, and what you now desire, but yet you cannot warrant what you may desire one day. There somtimes hap∣pen Revolutions, which in spight of our selves car∣ry us whither we never thought of going; and to speak according to universal experience, we can never foresee any passion with certainty. Hatred, love, jealousie, anger, and ambition, arise in our breasts when they are not expected; they always surprize all those of whom they become absolute Mistresses; and 'tis principally for this reason, that it is a matter of so great difficulty to defend our selves from them. Do not therefore so firmly

assure your self, Madam, of your own sentiments, and give me leave at least to believe that it is not absolutely impossible, but that I may one day be happy; for should I not believe so, perhaps virtue would abandon me at the same time with hope. Claelia was going to answer, when a great noise was heard in the street that led towards the Subli∣cian bridge, which was within the prospect of Cle∣lius's house. Whereupon, as in time of War, eve∣ry kind of noise excites curiosity, the Ladies who were with Sulpicia, desiring to see what the cause of it was, interrupted Horatius, and forc'd him to look out with the rest, to discover the occasion of so great a stir among the people. The windows were no sooner open, but they beheld a magnifi∣cent Chariot upon the Sublician bridge, (in which was a man of a very graceful aspect, richly cloath'd with a wreath of Myrtle upon his head) which in spight of all the resistance of him that manag'd it, came with such violence that it overthrew every thing that obstructed its passage. For hurrying im∣petuosly before the Guards which stood at the end of the Bridge, it pass'd rapidly till before the Gate of Clelius's house, where it overturn'd; but by good fortune, he that was the Master of it, re∣ceiv'd no hurt, and got clear from the fall of the Chariot, the Axel-tree of which broke in that place. As soon as Horatius beheld him, he knew him to be a Nephew of Mamilius, at whose house he had been captive at Veii, and who was an espe∣cial friend to Clelius: So that not being able to divine what this adventure meant, nor to behold the relation of a person, by whom he had been favourably treated; in that condition, without of∣fering to do him some good office, he inform'd Sulpicia what he was, and went to embrace him very obligingly; for, during the few days he had been at Veii, he was very familiar with him. When Horatius had made himself known to this young Veientine, whose name was Telanus, he led him to Sulpicia, who receiv'd him very civilly. Being a person of much gallantry, he desir'd par∣don of the Ladies, for appearing before them with a Crown upon his head; and to satisfie the curio∣sity of the company, who requested it of him, he told them that the people of Veii, the better to te∣stifie their averseness, to deliver to the Romans that rare Figure which Tarquin had caus'd to be made, with intention to place it upon the top of Jupiters Temple, had propos'd it for the principal Prize, at a magnificent race of Chariots, which they ap∣pointed without their City. The race being accord∣ingly ended, and he having gain'd the prize, which was set up at the end of the Course, to excite those that were to run, as he was going to receive the guerdon of his Victory, after he had been crown'd, his Horses were terrifi'd in such sort, without any apparent cause of that affrightment, that they hurried him, maugre all his reluctance, to the place where his Chariot was overturn'd, nor could he tell, by what miracle it was not bro∣ken before he arriv'd at Rome. But in conclusion (added Telanus at the end of his relation) I do no longer complain of my adventure, since I am ar∣riv'd in a place, where I find so many fair per∣sons. with so great civility. As he was speaking thus Clelius enter'd, who understanding the per∣son he beheld was Nephew to Mamilius, receiv'd him with great expressions of civility. He de∣sir'd him that he would make his house his resi∣dence, and gave order to his domesticks, to take care of his Chariot. In the mean time, for that it was important the Consuls should be inform'd of what had happened, Horatius took that charge upon him; but the next morning there came a He∣rald in the name of the Veientines, to offer the Romans, to deliver the Figure demanded by them; for their Augurs being consulted, concerning all the accidents that befell them, the adventure which was arriv'd to Telanus, who could not enjoy the prize of his victory, caus'd them to think that the gods would be provok'd against them, if they did not deliver it. But it being resolv'd Telanus should not be deliver'd till the Figure were brought to Rome, he for some time encreas'd the noble company, which was every day at the house of Valeria, whither Horatius led him. Being young and gallant, the humour of Plotina pleas'd him infinitely, from the first hour he saw her, and as if there had been some project of Fate to bring it so to pass, that this amiable Virgin should see all her Lovers together, Persander, who went to Ardea some daies before, return'd back, and brought two of his friends, who were her passionate ado∣rers. There arriv'd also at Rome, a man of Meta∣pont, named Damon, who extreamly lov'd her, and who was become amorous of her, during a residence of six months, he had made at Ardea, But as for this last, though he was a person of in∣genuity, probity, and honour, yet he was one of those well-meaning people, whose conversation af∣fords not much divertisement. He was likewise one of those, who in matters of Religion affect all novelties, or extraordinary singularities; who rather believe that which seems impossible, than that which is profitable, and are very zealous in de∣fending what they do not understand, only because they imagine they do. For this man had so ardent∣ly embrac'd the opinion of Pythagoras, that he ac∣counted those extravagant, who did not believe, that souls continually transmigrate out of some bo∣dies into other bodies. Amilcar now beholding four Rivals at once about his Mistriss, was not re∣miss, but acquitted himself better than any other from this perplexity, which contributed to render the conversation, much more agreeable than usual; for one of Plotina's Lovers named Acrisius, was a person more loquacious than ever any other was; Sicinius spoke almost not at all, Telanus discours'd agreeably of every thing, and Damon extreamly affected to speak of his own Sect. Whereby, when Amilcar found all his Rivals with Plotina, there was none of them, whose conversation was not divertising, as Amilcar's pleasant humour or∣der'd it: and when they were not there, he di∣verted himself yet more admirably, sometimes imitating the silence of the one, sometimes by speaking too much as the other, and sometimes pleasantly examining all the opinions of the new Sect of Pythagoras. By which means, he preju∣dic'd his Rivals, and pleasantly entertain'd his Mi∣striss, without vexation to himself. One day a∣mongst the rest, Acrisius talkt so much, and to so little purpose; and Sicinius spoke so little, that both of them were extreamly tedious, for they were with Plotina one after the other, who com∣plain'd agreeably of them to Amilcar, who came to wait upon her after they were departed. I be∣seech

you (said she to him) promise me two things I have to request of you; one, that you will not speak so much, but that I may have liberty to in∣terpose a word if I desire it; and the other, that I may not be oblig'd to speak continually, but that you will sometimes partake in my discourse; for I have seen two men to day, of which, one would not permit me to speak one word, and the other did not speak four to me. I easily conjecture (answer'd Amilcar) that Acrisius and Sicinius came to wait upon you; but amiable Plotina, since you have experienc'd both those imperfecti∣ons, tell me, I beseech you, which is the most in∣supportable, to the end I may know which most to avoid, I assure you (reply'd she) that both of them were very troublesome to me; for 'tis a thing very disgustful, to see a conversation stifled every moment, As for my part (added she smi∣ling) I should as soon choose to attend the sacred fire of the Vestals, as to be oblig'd to entertain such people, who supply nothing to conversation, which always requires new arguments, and who are profest enemies to long sentences, and scarce ever speak any thing more than Yes or No, and sometimes to spare the pains of pronouncing a syl∣lable, make a little sign with their head, to testifie that they understand you: In good earnest (con∣tinued Plotina) I know nothing more tedious than that kind of profound silence, which happens eve∣ry moment between two persons, of which one is mute and reserv'd. Silence in all other occasions, is not without something of pleasingness, but in this it is fastidious, and there is no noise so dis∣agreeable but satisfies me better. Seriously (an∣swer'd Amilcar) the noise of those incessant speak∣ers, is as troublesome, as the silence of those that speak but little; and, if you will consider it, you will find it as inconvenient. For is there any thing more irksome, than to hear the great number of falsities and impertinences, uttered by those per∣petual discoursers; since 'tis not to be doubted, but they who speak excessively, are not over-scru∣pulous of relating untruths, or at least, such matters as do not countervail attention. But the incon∣venience is, that these people, at the same time they make their long Narratives, which might perhaps be dispenc'd with, hinder others from speaking such things, as are desir'd to be known. For Acrisius, Sicinius, Telanus, and my self, were yesterday together upon the banks of Tiber: and as the curiosity of Telanus induced him to enquire of me exactly, in what place the Founders of Rome had mark'd out the first Trench of their Ci∣ty, when I was going to answer him, and began to tell him, Romulus—Acrisius interrupted me; and seven times one after another, like the best ec∣cho in the world, I attempted again to speak, and pronounc'd only Romulus, not being able to con∣tinue my answer to Telanus, who could not refrain from smiling at my obstinacy and my patience. But at length it was necessary to yield to Acrisius, and resolve to hear him, though his discourse might well have been spar'd for all his life-time; for, be∣sides that, as I said before, they who speak too much, are subject to speak untruths, or imperti∣nencies: the subjects of their discourse are fre∣quently fastidious and disgustful. The means to avoid these defects, by those who have not suffi∣cient judgement, is, to permit them to speak who are in presence, to understand that society ought to be free, that tyranny is insupportable in con∣versation, that every one has his part and right to speak in his turn; and lastly, that this can never be, without the attention of those that hear, and unless they who speak well, may have the privi∣ledge to speak more than others. As Amilcar was speaking this Valeria and Cesonia enter'd, and a lit∣tle while after Herminius, Horatius, and Zenocrates. Plotina seeing present so many capable Judges of the subject of her discourse with Amilcar, told them the disgust she had in the entertainment of Acrisius, who was too full of words, and of Sici∣nius who was too reserv'd; desiring them to de∣liver their opinions upon these two defects, For my part, who am an un-active person, (said Va∣leria) I think I should rather choose to speak too little than too much. You have reason (added Ce∣sonia) for though Women are generally charg'd with being excessively loquacious, yet I look upon a great talker of our Sex, as more troublesome than one that is so of the other. For when women are given to affect much speaking, their discourse is usually nothing but a mass of trifles, and superflu∣ous words, which are very disgustful to such as have any measure of judgement and understand∣ing: For my part (said Amilcar smiling) I am not of your opinion; for when such a great talker is young and fair, and makes not uncomely faces in speaking, but on the contrary, shews her white teeth, and ruddy Lips, I hear her with less pain than over-talkative men, whose audacious and in∣solent aspect as much offends the eyes, as their long winded discourse the ears. As for me (said Herminius) who do not condemn silence at all times, I confess I would not be a great Speaker; but in others, I should better comply with a man who was always speaking, than one who must al∣ways be spoken to. I assure you (said Horatius) that though all the world speaks, few people know how they ought to do it. You have reason, with∣out doubt (answer'd Herminius) and I dare main∣tain, there is scarce any thing, about which men universally agree, unless it be that Health is a Good; Beauty it self is not exempt from contestation; Riches are lookt upon as noxious instruments; the Arts and Sciences are placed by some, in the rank of things uncertain and dubious; Physick, whose object is the restitution of health, and pro∣longation of life, is yet accounted by some people a dangerous Art, that does more mischief than be∣nefit; so true, is it, that weakness and uncertain∣ty reigns in the minds of mankind. Some approve the same that others condemn, and there is scarce any thing extoll'd and commended by one, but is as much decry'd and deprecated by another. So some believe, that speaking little is a defect, others, that speaking very much is a perfection; some, that to speak eloquently, is to speak bombastick words; others, that to speak well, is to speak na∣turally, and with facility; some affirm, only choice and select words ought to be us'd, and others, that we ought to speak negligently in avoidance of af∣fectation; without considering that affected negli∣gence is the worst of all. There are some like∣wise who are of opinion, that to speak well, it is requisite to speak with the same exactness that Books are written in; whilst others on the con∣trary, to avoid this defect, speak as impolitely as

the Vulgar; without observing, that all excess is equally condemnable; and that if it be dangerous to speak too well, it is no less to speak extreamly ill. But as I understand, there is a thing in Lan∣guage generally and deservedly blam'd by all the world, namely, a fustian dialect and obscurity; since 'tis true, that whosoever attends, desires to comprehend what is spoken to him; and who∣soever speaks, is oblig'd to make himself intelligi∣ble. No doubt, Herminius has reason (answer'd Zenocrates) when he saies, the Coyners of bombast words are condemn'd by all the world. Yet there are abundance of that profession (said Plotina) but, which I wonder at more, I know several sorts of people addicted to it, and some amongst them not absolutely un-ingenuous. That is not to be doubted (answer'd Herminius) and hence it proceeds, that there are divers sorts of gibbrish. But can you give any reasonable cause (said Plo∣tina) why people that have some measure of wit, do not express themselves purely and clearly without in tricacy? Most certainly (answer'd Herminius) they are such people whose thoughts sometimes, come near to the understanding of matters, but their words so intricate their conceptions, that it cannot be conjectur'd, what they would have understood: There are others, (added Zenocra∣tes) whose expressions are bad, only by reason they do not understand themselves; and they are not only put to seek the words they would utter, but the things they would apprehend. You see then (reply'd Herminius) I am not destitute of reason, when I assert the multiplicity of bad lan∣guage and gibbrish. For the people I mentioned first, are obscure in their discourses, only because they choose not out the words which might ex∣press their thoughts; and the second mentioned by Zenocrates, are so, only because their thoughts being confus'd, there is no expression that sutes with them, and can make them intelligible. There are also some sorts of innocent gibbrish, (if I may so speak) of which some are capable of being amended. For I know some persons, who to show the vividness and promptness of their fancies, give not leisure to those that speak to them, to finish what they intended. Whereby endeavouring to make unsutable supplies by conjecture, they in∣terrupt the course of them that were speaking; and speaking themselves with precipitation, they seem to answer before any thing is perfectly pro∣pounded to them; since a person, who has not wholly ended what he was about to speak, has as yet spoken nothing upon which to ground a per∣tinent answer, the last words of a discourse not rarely overthrowing the beginning of it. Thus it almost always falls out, that these people who interrupt others so peremptorily, and interpose their unseasonable supplements, speak things with∣out sense, and cause a strange intricacy, though o∣therwise their apprehensions be sufficiently clear. For my particular (said Valeria) I know some ob∣scure clouded speakers, the occasion of whose fault is, that their minds are distracted; for not attend∣ing well to what is spoken to them, and through custom, not awaiting to answer, they usually ac∣quit themselves after an ill manner. There are likewise certain gibbrish speakers, who become such out of an affectation to seem subtle, and ima∣gine, that not expressing themselves clearly, is the way to be accounted owners of deep judgements and great abilities. For my part (said Amilcar) I know there are persons of both Sexes, from whom sometimes discourses proceed not warrant∣able in sense, and that only because they desire to be the first that use those new-coyned words which chance introduces, and the humor of the world makes currant for a while, and which some∣times are authoris'd by time and custom; for these people not knowing the true signification of the new modish words, place them impertinently, and oftentimes speak the contrary to what they intend to express. There are also others (answer'd Her∣minius) who understand not what they say, be∣cause having resolv'd to speak confidently of eve∣ry thing, they venture with a very mean wit, to speak of certain things, which can never be right∣ly spoken of, unless they be well learnt before. In the mean time; 'tis much a greater shame to pretend a sufficiency without reality, than to be ju∣diciously silent, and to confess ignorance of the things that are debated of. I beseech you (said Plotina) let us leave these gibbrish speakers, who are unworthy the notice and minding of so many persons, that speak so handsomely and clearly; and let us only consider those who speak either too much or too little; for as for my self, I confess the latter seem so troublesome themselves, by oc∣casioning the trouble of others, that I should chuse rather to speak too much than too little, since, at least, by importuning my friends, I should divert my self. Though it seem not possible (answer'd Hortensius) to be of an opinion contrary to yours, without undertaking a bad side, yet I shall not for∣bear to declare once more, that I like rather to speak too little than too much, that neverthe∣less, I should sometimes fancy the conversation of a loquacious person, more than that of one that seem'd almost perpetually tongue ty'd. For it may indeed happen oft-times, that a man who speaks not much, may have a good capacity, but it can scarce ever happen that one who speaks too much, is indu'd with a tolerable judgement. True (said Amilcar) but withal it does not often happen that those who almost wholly decline speaking, are owners of much wit; and on the other side, it is frequently enough seen, that a great talker is sufficiently ingenuous, for 'tis my opinion, that wit has a resemblance with fire, and so cannot but discover it self in some manner or other, where ever there is any of it. Yet great men have been seen (answer'd Horatius) that have not affected speak∣ing. 'Tis true (reply'd Herminius) but then they have manifested their wit in their writings or actions, if not by their words; for I concur with Amilcars sentiment, that wit cannot absolutely be conceal'd, but must of necessity make it self appa∣rent. Yet we may see great Princes, great Philo∣sophers, great Poets, great Painters, and excellent Artists, very sparing of their speech; but their actions, or their works will speak for them, and convince all that know them, that their silence is not a silence proceeding from stupidity. The case is not the same in those people whose wit resides in their tongues, and whose utmost performance and imployment is only the multiplication of words, for I am confident their actions for the most part, are wholly dumb to their advantage. Neverthe∣less (answered Zenocrates) all persons indu'd with

judgement are not so resolv'd friends to silence. I do not affirm (reply'd Herminius) that all those who speak very much are destitute of judgement, for I should therein commit an injustice against many worthy persons; but only that such as speak too much can have none. Believe me (said Plotina) there is oft-times very little difference to be found between speaking very much, and speaking over much. Liberality and Prodigality have some kind of resemblance together (answer'd Herminius) and yet 'tis very well distinguish'd that the latter is a vice, and the other a virtue; So 'tis easie enough to distinguish him that speaks very much and well, from him that speaks too much and ill, or at least ill to the purpose. But I beseech you (said Va∣leria) are there not some who speak too much, and nevertheless fail not to speak well? No doubt there are (answer'd Amilcar) and I knew a Greek in Sicily, whose language, though eminent for the most exquisite Attick purity, was notwithstanding fastidious, because he spoke more than he ought. For the description of a man too loquacious, is chiefly taken from the thin number of things, and prolix series of words, wherewith he useth to com∣prehend the same; he is Characteris'd by the lit∣tle necessity he has for endless speaking, by his forwardness to deliver his judgement of every thing, to interrupt the speech of every one, and snatch all occasions to speak, to talk perpetually, without taking notice sometimes, whether he be listned to or no, and not to be able to hold his peace, though in the presence of persons of great∣er quality, or capacity than himself. Not but that I believe those very great speakers are not sometimes obnoxious, (though they speak well too) to be adjudg'd pragmatical by those who love to speak as themselves; but, for that this do's not always happen, the pleasure of a small number of persons ought not to authorize the condemnation of those who speake very much and well, and afford a thousand delights by their con∣versation, because they never speak any thing that is not either necessary or agreeable. For when a man loves to speak, only because nature has given him a facility of expression, a capacious mind, a quick fancy, a memory stor'd with choice and ra∣tional notions, when his judgement is master of his wit and fancy, and his conversation perfectly accommodated to the genius of the World, no doubt, 'tis possible for him to speak much, without being chargeable for excess; for I am confident, that if this man be such as I have describ'd, he will be able to hold his peace as often as he plea∣ses, he will yield a liberty of speech to all that desire it, and will not do like a grand talker I met with at my first arrival at Syracuse, to whom I was, at his own request, going to represent a great danger I encounter'd with at Sea, by reason of a storm that surpris'd us; I had scarce begun to tell him that the Sea was agitated by a sudden commo∣tion, but cutting me off, This makes me remember (said he) that the like case once befell me when I was making a voyage at Sea. For you must know (added he, without remembring what he had re∣quested of me) that after I was embarqu'd at Ta∣rentum in a very good ship, the Pilot of which was a Native of Cuma; and which was fraighted with several sorts of merchandise (for Tarentum is a potent and rich City; and much frequented, by reason of the great Traffique of all kind of Com∣modities exercis'd in it) the wind changing of a sudden, the ship was constrain'd to stay yet fifteen days longer in the Port of Tarentum, where there befell me a sufficiently pleasant adventure. For when embarqu'd, I took my leave of a woman of no contemptible beauty, with whom I had been gracious for some time, and who, for my sake, had banisht from her house a Lover which she had, before I was hers. But for that she be∣liev'd I was departed over night, the next morning when I returned ashore, and went to her to let her know I should have the pleasure of seeing her some days longer, I found her laughing heartily with my old Rival, though she had bid me adieu with tears. Whereupon, choler incensing me, I fell to quarrelling with my Rival and my Mistriss; which fit of indignation cur'd me of my love; and at my going from this visit, I made another, at another house, where I became amo∣rous of a brave Girl, to whom I address'd Court∣ship, and was so passionate a servant of hers, that I suffer'd the Vessel to sail away without me, in which I had embarqu'd before with intention to depart. But, (said I to him, taking occasion to interrupt him) when you interrupted me, I thought it had been only to represent to me some tempest resembling that which you desir'd me describe to you; yet it seems after you took ship, I find you again upon Land, and engag'd in a Love-design. Give your self a little patience (said he to me) we are not come to it yet. And indeed I stood in great need of it; for out of his prodigious eagerness of perpetual speaking, and silencing all others, he recounted to me every particular circumstance re∣lating to his new affection; he caus'd me to read the Letters of his Mistriss, he repeated Songs to me, he took ship once again, and made a voyage without a Tempest, before he came to tell me of that, where indeed he was in danger of perish∣ing: Thus this man, who had a purpose to know the manner of my hazarding and escaping ship∣wrack, knew nothing at all of it, but inform'd me of a hundred matters wherewith I was wholly unconcern'd. In the mean time his language was commendable, and supposing it had been material for me to have known all that he told me, the man would have spoken admirably well: but be∣ing I had nothing to do with any of his stories, and had not related the danger I incurr'd above once or twice, (all the world naturally delighting to re∣count a Tempest, or such like iminent dangers from which they are escap'd) 'tis beyond your imagination what I then suffer'd; and his eloquene was so offensive to me, that had I not resolv'd with my self to deride him secretly, I should have had but a very odious divertisement. You have made this relation so pleasantly (answer'd Plotina laughing) that it would have been ill, if there had never been people that affect much speaking; and the best is, (added she in raillery) that in imi∣tating a man that speaks very much, you seem not to enforce your self as much as another. 'Tis true (reply'd Amilcar), beholding her with infi∣nite affection) I speak sometimes freely enough; but to prove to all the company that I know how to restrain my self from speaking when I please, I need only inform them, that I have lov'd you more than eight days without declaring it to you, though

I had a desire to do it every moment. I beseech you (said Plotina) let us not so soon change the discourse, and amuse our selves with speaking of follies, which are no more necessary to be known to the company, than the relation of the adven∣tures of your Greek were to you, But for that I am no very great hater of speaking, and 'tis one of the things in the World we most frequently practice; I should not be unwilling to be inform'd what are the requisites to speaking well. In the first place (said Amilcar) it is requisite to have a good wit, sufficient memory, and excellent judgement. Next, it behoves to speak the language of the bet∣ter sort of people of the Countrey where we reside, and equally to avoid that of the low and courser Plebeians, that of fantastical wits, and that which certain people use, which having a smack of the Court; a mixture of the vulgar, somewhat of the former age, a little of the present, and very much of the City, is the most confus'd and various of all. But yet (said Plotina) I do not account this sufficient; for you well distinguish how we ought not to speak, but you do not not express directly how we ought. I assure you (answer'd Horatins) it is necessary only to speak as you do, to speak exactly and agreeably. Verily (added Herminius) the amiable Plotina speaks as a brave Lady should, to speak agreeably; for all her ex∣pressions are both noble and natural together, what she speaks is not far fetcht and elaborate, there is no constraint in her words, her discourse is clear and facile, there is gallant sprightliness in her manner of speaking, no effectation in the sound of her voice, very much liberty in her actions, and a won∣derful resemblance between her eyes and her words, which is a grace that contributes to ren∣der speech infinitely more agreeable. But how can all you speak of (answer'd Plotina) be com∣petent to me, who scarce ever premeditate of what I am to say. Should you study more atten∣tively, Madam, (reply'd Zenocrates) you would not speak so agreeably as you do; for when we are so solicitous and considerative, we never speak any thing commendably. But I would desire to know (interrupted Cesonia) what must the differ∣ence be which is requir'd between a man that speaks well, and a woman that does so too; for though I certainly know, there ought to be some distinction, yet I do not fully understand wherein it consists. The same words are us'd, the same things sometimes spoken of, and the minds of both, are frequently possess'd with resembling thoughts; yet, as I said before, it does not al∣ways become an ingenious woman to speak in the same manner as an ingenious man; and there are certain expressions, which either Sex may sutably enough employ distinctly, but cannot be promis∣cuously us'd by the other with decency. There are certain things indeed (said Plotina) which seem extremly uncowth in the mouth of a Woman, and yet are not at all surprising in that of a man. As for example, if I should go to swear by the holy Fire, or by Jupiter, I should frighten those that heard me; if I should offer to judge decisive∣ly of some difficult question, I should be account∣ed ridiculous; if I should only affirm that which I speak, with something too strong and fierce a tone of my voice, it might be doubted whether I deserv'd the name of a Virgin; if I should speak of War like a Military Tribune, all my friends would deride me. Nevertheless it behoves us to speak commendably, as also to take care from falling into another defect, namely that of speak∣ing with a certain affected simplicity, which relishes of Childhood, and is very unbecoming. In the next place we ought not to speak heedles∣ly, but yet less ought we to attend to our own speech, as some woman do, who really li∣sten to the sound of the words, which they pro∣nounce, as they would do to a Harp when they are tuning it; and who with a certain tone of sa∣tisfaction, oftentimes cloath very bad things in very gay expressions, That which the amiable Plotina speaks (answer'd Amilcar) is admirably well spoken; but to mention a defect that agrees equally to men and women, it is requisite to avoid diligently a certain vulgar pronunciation which renders the most excellent sense disagreeable. For I assert, that it would be incomparably better that I had something of African-accent in speaking the language of Rome, than if I should use that odd accent which is peculiar to the meanest sort of ar∣tisans. I dare confidently maintain, there is scarce a place in the world, where there is not a difference between the pronunciation of the better rank, and that of the vulgar; and I add moreover, that a stranger is not blameble for preserving that of his Countrey; but a man or woman of quality are, if they speak like their slaves. For my part, having a nice and delicate gust, in reference to all things whatsoever, I am sensibly affected with the sound of the voice, with a pure and sweet accent, and an unexpressible kind of nobleness, that I find in the pronunciation of certain persons whom I know, and chiefly in that of the charming Plotina. But I beseech you (said Cesonia) tell me what they must do, who speak not like Plotina, to at∣tain the gracefulness of her speech, and lose the ill-becommingness of their own. Love people of the better rank (answer'd Herminius) and con∣verse with few others; for it does not belong to Books to teach to speak, and they who content themselves with reading, to become fit for con∣versation, strangely delude themselves, and under∣stand not the advantages of familarity with good Writers. Reading is, without doubt, necessary to adorn the mind, to regulate the manners, and to compose the judgement; it may likewise serve to learn a tongue, but as for the handsomeness of lan∣guage, it is attainable only by conversation, which withal, must be a conversation of people of the World, whereof Women make the greatest part otherwise it will be too sublime and learned, dry, rude, or affected, by those who endeavour to re∣gulate their fashions of speaking according to what they read. For, as Books for the most part speak not as men do in conversation; so it does not be∣come men to speak in conversation, after the same manner they read in Books. Verily (said Plotina) I wonder all the world does not addict themselves to learn to speak well; since, methinks, nothing is more easie than to be always in the company of worthy persons; for the case is infinitely other∣wise in all other things that we desire to learn. It is sometimes tedious enough to attend the directi∣ons of those that teach to sing, to paint, or to dance; but since to speak handsomely, there needs nothing more than to converse with people of the

World, and with those too that speak gracefully and agreeably, I make a vow to learn to speak during my whole life, and never willingly to con∣verse with any others. Others ought rather to apply to you, Madam (said Zenocrates) than you to others. You have reason (answered Amilcar) but there is another kind of thing which the ami∣able Plotina has need to learn, which is to hear a little more favorably what I sometimes say to her. As for that (replyed she) 'tis learnt but too soon, but there is another which I would have all them taught who know it not, which is to consider what is spoken to them, and not to wander into unseasonable fancies from the purpose, in company. A little distraction (added she) I can pardon, but for that multiplication of continued extrava∣gant fancies some people are addicted to, who ne∣ver are present where they are seen, and are scarce ever in any place, I think it fit they were reform∣ed of it. For he that has so many things to muse of, better than those he intends to speak, ought to abide in his Closet, and entertain only him∣self, since 'tis undoubtedly an incivility, not at all to attend to that which is spoken in the place where you are present, and to make no account of the company; and for my part, I am perswaded there is nothing but the murmur of a rivulet, or the prilling of a Fountain that can be civilly heard while we are meditating. What ever you are plea∣sed to say (answered Amilcar) the liberty of mu∣sing is infinitely pleasing; and you are not igno∣rant that there are certain houses in all places which are accounted more agreeable than others, only because the Masters of them lay no constraint upon any person. There a man may be either pensive or sociable, he may either laugh or sing, entertain himself with whom he pleases, come in, and go forth without speaking any thing, and in a word enjoys a liberty in such houses, attended with so much sweetness, that they are deservedly preferred before all others. However it be (replyed Plotina) I consent to what Herminius affirmed; for without learning so many several things, it will be most convenient for me only to converse with persons of ingenious accomplishments, and therefore I am resolved to consort with no others hereafter, if it be possible. You had reason to add those last words (answered Amilcar) for according to the course of the World it is sufficiently difficult to converse only with such persons as you speak of. He had scarce ended these words but one came to advertise Herminius, that Valerius enqui∣red for him concerning some urgent affair. Ano∣ther also came at the same time to tell Horatius, that the second Consul, who was his Kinsman, had some occasion for him, so that this honorable company broke up; for Valeria having a curiosity to know what her fathers business was with Her∣minius, departed presently after him, and after∣wards Amilcar and Zenocrates retired, and left Ce∣sonia and Plotina alone together. Those two gal∣lant persons were no sooner in the street, but they met Aemilius, who told them there was a man come from Clusium, that had brought some intelligence which obliged the Consuls to assemble the Senate extraordinarily. And indeed it was a Messenger sent by Artemidorus, who advertised Valerius, that they were already about raising forces in the States of the King of Hetruria, and preparing to advance the Troops of the Veientines and the Tar∣quins. It was also informed that the Queen Gale∣ritia, accompanyed by the Princess of the Leontines, was gone to the Island of Saules, where Aronces was confined, with intent to perswade him to yield absolute obedience to Porsenna, and that it was not doubted but he would be won to it, there being no appearance that he could refuse to beat Arms against all those whom the King his father declared, and adjudged for enemies. Valerius re∣ceiving this intelligence, judged it important to seize upoh a considerable Passage, and cause a Fort to be built there, before the enemies had time to perceive how necessary it would be for them to be masters of it.

But the second Consul being as much a savo∣rer of the interests of Horatinus as Valerius was of those of Aronces, though both of them sought the publick good, there became a kind of disposi∣tion to discord between them. Valerius knowing of how much concernment it was, there should hap∣pen no breach between them, desired to avoid a contest which might prove prejudicial to the pub∣lick affairs. To which purpose being to act two important matters at once, one of which was to know which of the two Consuls should go Com∣mander of the forces designed to fortifie that dif∣ficult passage between Rome and Clusium, and the other to know whether the Consul Horatius or Valerius should be the person that should Dedicate the Temple of Jupiter, Valerius propounded to re∣fer the decision of it to the event of Lot, percei∣ving the urgency of the matter; for the people imagined all would go ill if the Temple were not dedicated, and intelligent persons foresaw it was necessary to seise of a place that might hinder the enemies from coming so suddenly to besiege Rome, and consequently allow leisure to fortifie it. And it was to consult of this affair, that Valeri∣us sent to seek Herminius, and the second Consul desired to speak with Horatius. Valerius would rather have stayed at Rome, where he believed his presence necessary, but the Dedication of the Temple of Jupiter being an honor desired with immence passion by his Collegue, he put the mat∣ter into the power of Lot, which decided it in favor of the second Consul. So that Valerius was obliged to go and command the Army for that se∣cret expedition, which was judged so necessary. Horatius, as amorous as he was, resolved to ac∣company him, and would not remain behind a peaceful Spectator of the Dedication of a Tem∣ple, while there were Forces in the Campagne. Themistus, Herminius, Amilcar, Zenocrates, Aemi∣lius, and all the other friends of Valeria would have done the same, but he judged it necessary for himself that his true friends should continue at Rome during his absence. And moreover his attempt requiring to be executed by surprise, he did not deem it needful to carry so many brave per∣sons with him for such a purpose. Nevertheless, he consented that Mulius should go with him; for knowing his imperious honor, and what his passion was for Valeria, he was not unwilling to se∣parate him from Herminius and Aemilius, whom he very highly affected. As for Spurius, he re∣mained at Rome, to importune Valeria; and The∣mistus likewise continued there for fear, lest if the Prince of Messenia should come thither to seek

him, he might imagine he intended to flye away, Meleagenes stayed with his friend, Calianius follow'd Valerius, and Merigenes, stay'd behind for the same cause with Themistus. The second Consul, though he had but one only Son, sent him to the Army, which in three days was ready to depart. When it was marcht away, the Consul Horatius only prepared for the Honor to dedicate the Temple of Jupiter. In order to which it was purified, according to the custom, with the most ancient ceremonies of Rome: all the people left their works this day, Sa∣crifices were offered in all the other Temples, that which was to be dedicated, was adorned with above a thousand magnificient Lamps, all the persons of quality of either Sex were present in it, the chief Vestal, and the Salian Priests repaired thither, and it was not suspected any obstacle could happen, to obstruct the accomplishment of the Ceremony. When the time came, that the second Consul was holding the Gates of the Temple half open, and, according to the antient custom, was ready to pronounce the solemn words, in which consist∣ed the dedication of the Temple, a Brother of Valerius, who stood directly against the gates, lifting up his voice, Know (said he to him) that your son is dead in the Army, and therefore being obliged to take care for his Funeral, it is not meet for you to do what you are going about; for it is a profanation to shed tears the same day a Temple is dedicated to Jupiter. If my son be dead, (answered Horatius without being moved) he is dead for the cause of his Countrey, and it being so, the gods preserve me from lamenting his loss. Let the Romans then take care for his Sepulture, (added he) for he was more Rome's than mine; and since he is dead in defence of his liberty, I ought to rejoyce for it, and finish the ceremony. Herminius, who was on the other side of the gate, knew well, that what the Brother of Valerius said, was but an artifice excogitated by him, to impede the ceremony, imagining the Consul would be so troubled at the news of his only Sons death, that he could not proceed and finish it. He apprehen∣ded also that he had been instigated to this artifice by Spurius, who was his Friend: wherefore un∣derstanding how greatly it would displease Valerius, who was a declared enemy to untruth, as well as himself, he could not contain from speaking aloud, that this intelligence was not sent by Va∣lerius. However, the Consul, whether that he knew what was spoken to him to be untrue, or had a resolute and constant Soul, or that the desire of glory, rendred him insensible, testified no sign of grief, and finished the ceremony. But just as it was almost ended, Horatius and the Son of this Consul arrived from Valerius, to advertise that the Passage of so considerable advantage was easily seised on, and that he would return as soon as he had caused it to be fortified. Whereupon, Her∣minius, beholding him to arrive, who was said to be dead, and knowing from him the intelligence he brought, would himself conduct him to the Consul Horatius, to the end he might clearly ma∣nifest, Valerius and he had no part in the artifice which was made use of, to disturb him in the ceremony. And indeed it was easie to discover who were principals in the fraud; for the Bro∣ther of Valerius and Spurius, withdrew them∣selves, but Herminius, Aemilius, Amilcar, Zeno∣crates, and all the other Friends of Valerius, re∣mained to congratulate with the Consul, for the return of his Son, and the news he had brought. In the mean time Clelius, who was sufficiently joyful, because he was assured of the recovery of Octavius, understanding it was believed Aronces would be obliged to bear Arms against Rome, cal∣led Clelia, and speaking to her with the authority of a Father, and a Roman whose Virtue was se∣vere, Daughter, (said he to her) you are not ig∣norant, what hatred I ought to bear against Tar∣quin; and your self have been sufficiently persecu∣ted by him, to hate him in perfection, and not to scruple to forget a Prince, who has bathed his Sword in the Blood of your Brother, and who ap∣parently is going to put himself into a condition to kill him and me too, if it be true, as 'ts re∣ported, that he is obliged to make War against Rome. But my Lord (answered Clelia dejected∣ly,) if Aronces has wounded my Brother, it was by reason he knew him not; he served Rome im∣portantly against Tarquin, in the last Battel, and if it be true that he changes his party, no doubt 'tis only because the King his Father, having em∣braced that of Tarquin, honor will no longer per∣mit him to fight for Rome, since he cannot do it, without fighting against him, to whom he ows his life. Therefore I acknowledge to you, with∣out violating the respect incumbent on me by duty, that I think, after your so frequent com∣mands to me, to look upon Aronces as my de∣signed Husband, and who had effectually been so, had not that dreadful Earthquake interrupted your intentions, I cannot so easily forget Aronces as you require, for it is not in my power, not to remem∣ber all those obligations I have to him. I perceive well (interrupted Clelius roughly) you would in∣timate to me, that I ought also to remember those you pretend I have to Aronces; but without amu∣sing my self to answer all you have now spoken, I declare to you, that I revoke all the commands I layd upon you in favor of Aronces, and that I now lay more powerful ones upon you in favor of Ho∣ratius, whom I intend you shall marry at the end of the War. I would cause you to marry him to morrow, (added he) were it not that Valerius in∣structs me by his example, that it is unfit to be sollicitous about accomplishing Mariages, whilst our Countrey is in War; since he has deferred that of Valeria, for this only reason. And withall, being unwilling to treat you severely, I consent that you take some time, to resolve to obey me with a good will. But my Lord, (replyed Clelia modest∣ly) what shall become of the promises which you have made to the unfortunate Aronces? I promi∣sed all things to the unknown Aronces (answered he) but I promised nothing to the Son of Porsenna, and the Protector of Tarquin, and moreover, (ad∣ded Clelius fiercely) to tell you my sentimens, you are not to imagine that Aronces is the same at Clu∣sium, that you saw him heretofore at Carthage, and more lately at Rome. His example will per∣haps soon teach you to obey your Father, as he will do his own: and therefore it is better, that you endeavor to prevent him. Resolve then upon it, for it will be unprofitable for you to resist me, I am going to publish the resolution I have taken in such a manner, that it shall be sufficiently difficult, but some of Aronces's Friends will discover it to him, as soon as he shall be at liberty. No questi∣on

my Lord, (answered Clelia,) you may publish your resolution to all the World; but you can ne∣ver alter that which I have made, never to be possessed by any person, if I cannot be by Aronces. Clelius was transported with very much violence at these words, and left Clelia in incredible sor∣row. 'Tis true, Sulpitia comforted her with ex∣tream goodness, for being she loved Aronoes and hated Horatius, she interessed her self in the afflicti∣on of Clelia, and omitted nothing conducive to her consolation. Octavius likewise gave her all the occasions in the World, to commend his generosity, but in fine, Aronces was absent and prisoner, and if he were set at liberty, she judged it would be only to manage the War against Rome, and so she should become more miserable. She likewise feared, lest time might change the heart of Aronces, and Ho∣ratius return to be as violent as he had formerly been whereby finding no advantage either in Peace or War, she perpetually found her self un∣happy. But if she were unfortunate, Aronces en∣joyed no felicity: for it was true, the Queen his Mother, accompanyed with the Princess of the Leontines, went to him in the Island of Saules to propound to him in the name of the King, either to resolve upon perpetual imprisonment, or to take Arms against Rome, in favor of Tarquin. The very first thought of changing his side exci∣ted horror in him, especially when he reflected that he should see himself with his Sword in his hand, against the Father of Clelia, and so many of his Illustrious friends; but when he proceeded to consider that his Rival was at Rome, (for he had been informed of his deliverance) and imagin∣ed that during his imprisonment. Horatius might make advantage of his misfortune, he concluded nothing could be more prejudicial to him, than to continue in prison: Knowing therefore that the Queen his Mother, and the Princess of the Leon∣tines favored his interests, and were informed of his passion, he would not conceal his sentiments from them. I beseech you Madam, (said he to Galerita) remember that I am in the same prison, where Love heretofore occasioned your confine∣ment; recall all the dearness you have had for the King, and compassionate the condition of an un∣fortunate person, who lost his liberty, before he knew he owed his life to you. Consider the de∣plorable strait I am at present in. If I obey the King, I shall see my self with Sword in hand, against the Father of Clelia, and be obliged to serve Tarquin and Sextus, to the utmost of my pow∣er, who have been, and perhaps still are, Lovers of the person that I love, and both her persecu∣tors and mine. If I seek to escape out of prison, and put my self into Rome, I commit an action horribly criminal against the King my Father, and I side with Horatius, who is a formidable Rival, and if I continue in prison, I do nothing either for the King, or Clelia, or my self, nothing against Horatius or Tarquin, and only suffer unprofitably. Thus I find my self in an estate more miserable than ever any Lover fell into. The Princess of the Leontines, desirous at least to give Aronces some consolation, informed him, that the Prince of Numidia had ceased to be a Prince, and was Brother to Clelia, though concealing from him the report that he had wounded him, which she un∣derstood from Artemidorus, and Zenocrates, for fear to afflict him. If it be so (answered Aron∣ces,) I shall have lost a Rival, and gained a Pro∣tector, for I have no reason to doubt, but that between Horatius and me, the generous Brother of Clelia will declare himself to my advantage. Alass! (said Galerita then sighing) what will it be the better for you by his declaring to your ad∣vantage, if Fortune be against you? For in brief, to tell you the state of matters in reality, I have or∣der from the King, to offer you liberty and his favor, on condition you will marry the Daughter of the Prince of Cere, who is propounded to him by Tarquin; no other assurance (he says) being to be had of you, after your once already escaping from his Court. Ah! Madam, (cryed Aronces) I will dye a thousand times, rather than do what the King propounds to me; I prefer dying incom∣parably before injuring my Love, and my Honor. Yet in the condition wherein I am at present, it is so difficult to do any thing for the first, without violation of the latter, that death is the sole reme∣dy I am able to imagine. Cease therefore, Madam, (added this afflicted Prince) cease from having any longer kindness for me, since I can do nothing but occasion sorrow to those that love me. Hope is so sweet a good (answered the Princess of the Leontines) that it ought not to be cast off so easily. Wherefore, I wish you would leave the Queen, the power to manage the interests of your Love, and your Honor, without being sollicitous what she intends to report to the King. Alass! Madam, (replyed Aronces sadly) it is extreamly difficult, to retain hope in a condition resembling mine, when reason is as yet not wholly lost. However it be, (said Galerita) leave your self to be guided by me, unless you intend your own destruction. But Madam, (said he) what can I, or what can you your self do? I can tell the King (answered she) that you are in despair not to find your Soul capa∣ble, to yield so ready obedience. But Madam, (interrupted Aronces) I will never obey him, if he always commands me not to love Clelia. Have pa∣tience (answered Galerita,) and suffer me to end what I was speaking. I intend (added she) to in∣form the King as I told you, and endeavor to per∣swade him, to permit you the liberty of being guarded only in his Palace, and to suffer all that please to come to visit you. But what will be the advantage of that (replyed Aronces) since I resolve not to marry the Daughter of the Prince of Cere? While matters are at that pass (answered Galerita) it shall be attempted to cause the King to alter his sentiments; and in case he persist in them, it will be expedient to have recourse to an artifice which I have contrived, wherein the assistance of the Princess of the Leontines is absolutely necessary. If it be, Madam, (said this generous Princess) you need only to inform me what I ought to do, and I will obey you immediately. It is only desired of you (answered Galerita) that you will come and see Aronces as often as I shall visit him. And in the next place, it will be requisite for him to act, as if he were become amorous of you; and being you are not in a condition to dispose of your self, so long as you are at difference with the Prince of Leontium, the matter will be protracted a long time. Porsenna, who seeks to cause Aronces to mar∣ry the Daughter of the Prince of Cere, only to ex∣tinguish his passion for Clelia, will be more sollici∣tous

about it; so that the obstacle arising only on your part, he will let the business rest till affairs change their present state. Though there may seem something in this contrivance, not consistent with decency (replyed the Princess of the Leontines smiling) to admit an affection apparently, of so goodly a person as the Prince Aronces, yet I take so great interest in that which concerns him, that I shall consent to this innocent fraud, which may otherwise be serviceable to me, in reference to the Prince my Brother. But Madam, (said Aron∣ces) would it not be a crime to counterfeit a love to a person so lovely as you are? 'Tis true, I have so great an esteem and friendship for you, (if I may so speak) that you have no cause to reproach me, since I had not the honor to see you, till after I had no longer a heart to lose. But, in brief, should this fiction succeed, it would be sufficiently dan∣gerous for me, unless Clelia be informed of it, and as I conceive, it will be no very secure course to trust this secret in a Letter. Take you no care for that (said the Princess of the Leontines) for I shall lay that charge upon my self, when time re∣quires, to write to her in my own name, to pre∣vent her mis-apprehension, and accompany it with a Letter of yours to that fair person This being granted (replyed Aronces) I conceive the fiction may break off my intended nuptials with the Princess of Cere, but I see not how I shall be able to avoid following the King to the War, nor how I can serve in the Siege of Rome, without incensing Clelia, and being hated by her Father. If Clelia be equitable (answered Galerita) she will pitty instead of accusing you; and if Clelius be ge∣nerous, he will commend you for defending the life of your Father, and not love you less. Ah! Madam (replyed Aronces.) you know not what a zealous Lover Clelius is of his Countrey, how im∣mensely he hates Tarquin, and what great cause he has to detest him in perfection. But without diverting to matters so wide from the purpose, (said Galerita) let us only debate how to effect pour deliverance from the Island of Saules, that you may come to Clusium, that your friends may see you there, and the Mariage of the Prince of Cere's Daughter be no longer insisted on: for really (added she) the constant affection you have for Clelia, makes me commiserate you; and did the King remember so tenderly, as I do, the love that rendered him unhappy during so many years, he would be as ready to excuse it as I am, since you love a person, eminent for beauty, virtue, and des∣cent; for as I have understood by one of our an∣cient Augurs, who is a knowing person in all things and particularly in Genealogies, Clelius is lineally descended from the race of the Kings of Alba, though he dares not discover it at Rome, by reason of the ancient differences between the Sabines and the Romans, and at this day when those two Nations are united into one, he seeks no greater glory than that of being a Roman. Aronces hear∣ing this discourse of Galerita, used all the sweet and perswasive Language he could, to mollifie her heart, by which means he obtained permissi∣on of this Princess to write to Clelia; for since she believed that after his having been so near the ac∣complishment of his happiness, to prejudice so in∣nocent an affection, would be to provoke the gods she was willing to give this consolation to a Prince, whom she loved with an infinite dearness. Ac∣cordingly, during Galerita and the Princess of the Leontines went to walk upon a Terrass he writ to Clelia, and delivered his Letter to the Princess of Leontium, who promised to procure it safely rendered to her hands. In order whereunto, as soon as she was returned to Clusium, she gave it to the Prince Artemidorus her Brother, who saw her every day privately; and forthwith dispatcht a slave on purpose to Rome, to carry that Letter to Zenocrates, to the end he might deliver it to Clelia. To which end, he had no sooner received it, but he went to the House of Sulpicia, who was not at home, having not taken Clelia with her, he delivered her the Letter of Aronces, which she received with the greatest transport of joy in the World. Opening it hastily, and finding another inclosed for Octavius, she layd it aside, and began to read that which was addressed to her self, in these words.

ARONCES to CLELIA.

IF I love you not more ardently than ever, and be not resolved to love you so eternally, I wish I may never go forth of this prison where∣in I am, though it be insupportable unto me. After this sincere protestation, permit me to conjure you, not to judge of me according to appearances, for perhaps the passion I have for you, will oblige me to do things that may seem to you criminall, though they be not so: but I protest once again, that I will be eternally and absolutely Yours, and Yours alone.

Clelia having done reading this Letter, resented some cause of inquietude, from the request made to her by Aronces; but at length the assurance of his perpetual affection, inspired a joy into her more sweet and lively, than she had a long time been possessed with. Nevertheless, she dissembled part of it before Zenocrates; for though the love of Aronces and Clelia were no secret, yet the modesty of this virtuous Virgin ever obliged her, not to ma∣nifest more than part of the tenderness she had in her Soul. Which the better to conceal in this oc∣casion, she lead Zenocrates to the Chamber of Octavius, to whom she delivered the Letter di∣rected to him. At his receiving it, he could not contain from sighing, imagining that Aronces de∣sired his friendship again, after his knowing that he could no longer be his Rival; breaking up the seals, he found both much generosity and dearness expressed in these terms.

ARONCES to his dear OCTAVIUS.

I Do no longer wonder I could never hate you, so much as my other Rivals, since you are Brother to the admirable Clelia. My heart, no doubt, by some divine instinct discerned Octavius from the Prince of Nu∣midia, for notwithstanding all our feuds, it was ever possessed with respect for your Vir∣tue. But I beseech you, do not content your self with freeing me from a Rival; restore me a Friend, and vouchsafe to be my inter∣cessor with Clelius and Sulpitia. I shall per∣haps have the unhappiness to be in a party op∣posite to that of Rome, but if Honor and Love force me thereunto, pitty me, and believe I shall not be less sincerely Yours.

Octavius having read this Letter, shewed it to Clelia, who could not read it through without sighing; for she well apprehended Aronces would be forced to bear Arms against Rome. She like∣wise knew, Honor would not permit him to come and side with Rome, since the King his Father made War against it: and she conceived too, that Cle∣lius was so zealous for his Countrey, that he would hate Aronces more for being in the enemies Army, than he did already, out of the thought that 'twas he that wounded Octavius in the Battel. But at length, she was not insensible of much sweetness, in receiving testimonies of Aronces's constancy, be∣sides that, the Letter he writ to Octavius, made it so evident, that if he was the person that wounded him, it was through his not knowing him, that she asked her Brother, whether it would not be fit to shew it to Clelius? The gene∣rous Octavius approved her request, and according∣ly delivered it to his Father. But Clelius being at that time very ill affected towards Aronces, and extreamly favorable to Horatius, he said, he per∣ceived nothing in this Letter, that might justifie Aronces, but that on the contrary, he saw it was written by a man, who was preparing to be the Protector of Tarquin, and the enemy of Rome. Octa∣vius answered, that Nature and Honor not permit∣ing Aronces to abandon the King his Father, he ought to be pityed, for being engaged among the enemies of Rome, and not to be lookt upon as an Enemy. But this fair answer nothing moved him, for in the sentiments he then had, all that was fa∣vorable to Aronces displeased him, and all that was contrary to Horatius, put him into choler. In the mean time Valerius having dispatcht so impor∣tant an affair, and policy requiring the improve∣ment of this advantage as much as possible, to the end to retain the people in a favorable disposition for the continuation of the War, all the principal persons affected to testifie their joy of it. Never∣theless, the house of Racilia was always melanchol∣ly; and Hermilia and Collatina were almost conti∣nually alone lamenting their misfortunes. At the same time they of Veii having demanded fifteen days to consult with all their Augurs, whether they should deliver that Figure which was to be placed upon the top of the Temple of Jupiter, Telanus remained free at Rome, upon the word of Claelius, to whom he had engaged his own. But indeed he was not very much unpleased with it; for he was so much taken with Plotina, and found so many worthy persons, and amiable Ladies at Rome, that he could willingly have desired to con∣tinue there, all his life. Nor was it strange he should delight in a place to which both his own in∣clination retained him, and where no care was neg∣lected to divert him. For Horatius, out of an honorable gratitude for the civil usage he had re∣ceived from Mamilius, was very sollicitous in his favor, and Claelius looking upon him as a Kins∣man of his antient friend, commanded Sulpitia and Claelia to contribute their utmost to his con∣tentment. For Octavius being then out of dan∣ger, his mind was sufficiently serene and compo∣sed. And indeed Telanus himself was a person of so lovely and desirable a converse, that every one was forward to express their endeavors in fa∣vor of his content. Whence Horatius, Herminius, Themistus, Meleagenes, Zenocrates, Spurius, Aemi∣lius, Merigenes, and Amilcar too, how much so∣ever his Rival, did all they could to cause him to pass agreeably the time of his residence at Rome, Claelia, having then less affliction upon her mind, was also more Mistress of her self, and more easi∣ly concurred with the desires of her father, and the endeavors of the rest; Valeria, Cesonia, Plotina, Flavia and Salonina, being of themselves sufficient∣ly disposed to divert him, the conversation was al∣ways extreamly pleasant, in every place whatsoe∣ver. And besides it being the custom to celebrate three festival days upon the Dedication of a Tem∣ple, mirth; and rejoycing became at that time uni∣versal. Sulpicia in complyance with the custom, and obedience to Clelius ••r had an intention to go and sup in one of the Gardens of Numa, which was at the foot of that little Hill beset with Laurels, whither he was wont to resort in secret to receive the inspirations and documents of the Nymph Aegeria. To which the principal Ladies of Rome being invited, besides Valeria, Cesonia, Plotina, Flavia, and Salonina, they all went thither in Cha∣riots. And as for the men of quality, they re∣paired thither by themselves on horseback. But as the Ladies arrived at this place, they beheld a bro∣ken Chariot before this Gate of the Garden into which they were to enter, and observed the per∣sons that were taking care for the reparation of it, were not Romans. Upon which, they enquired of the Gardener who stood at the Gate, whose Cha∣riot that was, who answered that it belonged to some Ladies of Sicily, that were newly entered into the Garden, and who after their landing at Ostia, had taken a Chariot to come to Rome, after which Sulpicia entered, being accompanyed by all the other Ladies, and Horatius, Amilcar, and Zenocrates being arrived there before Aemilius, Spurius, Themisius, and Merigenes, they gave the hand to these Ladies, and conducted them into the Garden. Zenocrates, who waited upon Clelia, because Horatius found himself obliged to give the hand to Sulpicia, had scarce walked twenty paces, but he beheld two fair persons siting by the side of a

Fountain upon seats of Turf, who without taking notice of the company, were very intent in their discourse together, whilst two young Virgins that belong'd to them, were gathering Flowers in the Garden: but as soon as he behold them, he per∣ceiv'd they were Clidamira and Berelisa, Mistres∣ses to Artemidorus; which giving him a pleasing astonishment, he could not contain from testifying his surprise and his joy: O gods (cry'd he) is it possible I should find the two persons together; whom of all the world I most affect, and who love one another least! I beseech you, Madam, (said he to Clelia) oblige the generous Sulpicia to make a civility to them, since the persons you behold, are of the highest quality of Agrigentum and Leon∣tium, as you will acknowledge when I shall have told you, their names are Clidamira and Berelisa; for I presume Valeria has recounted to you the re∣lation I sometimes made to her of the adventures of Artemidorus.

Clelia hearing Zenocrates speak in this manner, advertis'd Sulpitia of the quality of these Ladies, who at length turning their heads towards this fair and great company, let fall their veils, and arose up with intention to go into a Walk by them∣selves, to avoid the company which they beheld. But Zenocrates having demanded Clelia's permis∣sion to leave her, went towards the two Ladies whom he no sooner saluted, but they remembred they had seen him at Leontium and Agrigentum: Whereupon they lifted up their veils, and sigh'd as they beheld him; for knowing he understood all their adventures, they could not repress this first emotion. Nevertheless they were well pleas'd in having met thus accidentally with him; though at the same time reflecting that Artemidorus might possibly be in the same Garden too, their hearts were sensibly moved with the apprehension: But Zenocrates soon undeceiv'd them; for after the first civility, he told them the Prince Artemidorus in the place he was in, little thought of the ad∣venture now befallen him. After which, inform∣ing them who the Ladies were they beheld there, he conducted them to receive the civilities of Sul∣pitia, who undrstanding their quality and merit, offered them the utmost of her abilities to serve them, and then inviting them to pass the rest of the day in the Garden, assured them she would carry them back in her own Chariot, whilst theirs was re∣ctifying at leasure; and moreover, she generously of∣fered them the entertainment of her house. I as∣sure you▪ said Telanus agreeably) strangers are admirably well received at the house of Sulpitia, although they be enemies; so that there is reason to believe such fair strangers as you can find no other than noble reception. To speak for my self (answer'd Berelisa) I so little merit the title of Fair, that I cannot think my self concern'd in your obliging language; And as for my parti∣cular (added Clidamira pleasantly) though I should have been sometimes accounted fair in Si∣cily, I should esteem my self at present very de∣form'd in a place where I behold more fair per∣sons, than I have other-where ever seen. I con∣ceive (said Valeria, addressing to Clelia) it con∣cerns you to answer, for you have more interest than all the rest in the commendations of Clida∣mira. I am so little perswaded of the truth of what you say (answer'd Clelia) that I was prepa¦ring to hear you, and thought not at all of answer∣ing. 'Tis beyond doubt (added Plotina) that you have not the power to oppose your self a∣gainst a truth that cannot be contested by any that own the faculty of sight. But though my self am not (added she smiling) one of the num∣ber of those grand Beauties that excite admiration, yet I am not timerous to claim some share in Clidamira's praises; for I should be very sorry not to please a person, who pleases me infinitely alrea∣dy. Clidamira (said Berelisa, addressing to Zeno∣crates) is wont to please as soon as she is first seen: but as for me, who make not so sudden Conquests, nevertheless I have some hope, that if I continue at Rome, my commendations will be accounted something, though at present, only those of my fair Sister, are taken notice of. You speak in so subtle a strain (answer'd Plotina) that I well per∣ceive the more knowledge any persons have of you, the more desirous they will be to know you, and that you well understand how to preserve what you have acquired, You know her so well alrea∣dy (reply'd Clidamira, with a cunning smile) that I believe you have formerly seen her; for she not only preserves what is given her, or she acquires; but she takes away from others what they have acquir'd, without ever making them restitution. When any person finds a thing another has lost by his own fault (answer'd Berelisa) and which ought to be possess'd by some other, it is as good to take and keep it, as to leave it, for those, who perhaps will have no care of it; and therefore (added Berelisa, beholding all the fair persons that environ'd her) if it happen we make some stay at Rome, you must prepare your selves to love me more at the end, than at the begin∣ning. At present, for that it is not meet to trou∣ble your divertisement, and be at a Feast, where∣unto chance causes our invitation; if my Sister consents, we will accept the Chariot offer'd us, and leave you to that liberty, which is most ne∣cessary to render your Walk agreeable; since of∣tentimes one strange or troublesome person preju∣dices the pleasure of many. As for being trouble∣some (answer'd Sulpitia) you know you are not such. And for strangers (added Plotina) you are less so at Rome than you imagine, it not being pos∣sible to have convers'd so much there with the Prince Artemidorus and Zenocrates, and not to know you perfectly. Clelia accompanying the requests of Sulpitia with her own, and all the other La∣dies testifying the same desires, Clidamira and Be∣relisa were perswaded to stay with them: Though they made some further scruple by reason of the carelesness of their attire, unsutable for an appoint∣ed feast; but that being sufficiently becoming, their excuse was ineffectual, and they were constrain'd to make an addition to this fair company. Where∣fore giving order to their attendants, to go and advertise a friend of Spurius, at whose house they intended to lodge, that they would be there at night, they mingled themselves in the conversa∣tion of all the Ladies, with as much liberty as if they had been of their most antient familiars. Clidamira and Berelisa handsomly extoll'd the beauty of Clelia; for no question there is an art to commend with a good grace of greater difficulty than is believ'd. But the modest Clelia averted the praises given her after so gentle and pleasing a manner; that, with∣out either refusing or accepting the same; she

caus'd them to change their discourse. For be∣holding a man of a comely personage, and a no∣ble and sprightly air enter into the Garden, I wish (said she) he that I see there were some stranger as agreeable as you. He is without doubt much more (answer'd Clidamira, who knew him) and I think Berelisa will not but acknowledge it. You know him then? (reply'd Clelia) We know him (answer'd Berelisa) only by occasion of passing from Sicily to Ostia in the same ship, but I assure you, there is not a more agreeable person than A∣nacreon, How? (said Herminius) is he that comes there, Anacreon, whose works charm'd me in Greece? and whose reputation is so famous? who has so gallant a fancy, delicate wit, and natural expressions? who generally loves all pleasures, and in particular, is no great hater of genial enter∣tainments? 'Tis that very person (answer'd she) As for me (said Amilcar) who am charm'd with his writings as well as Herminius, I am ravished to see him. Berelisa hearing what was spoken of Anacreon, went to meet him, and addressing to him, Come, said she, come to a place where you have more friends than you believe, and where perhaps you may have occasion to break the oath you have made to love no beauty at Rome; for you will see some sufficiently charming in this Garden, it may be, to change your resolution. Since I have had only admiration, and esteem for you and Clidamira, ever since I had the honor to know you answer'd he, speaking the Roman language tole∣rably well) I conceive no fair ones in the world ought to be offended, when they excite not in my breast the tender passion of Love, Perhaps (said Plotina pleasantly) we should be culpable in being offended at it; but if you are such a person as description represents you, perhaps we shall have reason to be discontented, since there would be no want of pleasure in detaining so worthy a person as you at Rome. I assure you, answer'd he, that good company may detain me any where, and be∣ing that where I am present, has a very agreeable appearance, it shall only depend on them, if I stay not here as long as they please. After this, all these Ladies made a thousand civilities to Anacre∣on, and effectually oblig'd him to sup in that Gar∣den with all the company, To speak my thoughts, (said he, when the Ladies were beginning to walk) I apprehend a happy presage of my aboad at Rome, since at my first arrival, I find my self at a noble entertainment, I, who am the protector of joy, and who in defiance of all the Sages, who glory only in solitude and simplicity, am of opinion, that the society, and jovial Collations of honest persons are necessary to the felicity of life. As for society (answer'd Clelia) I believe, who ever is owner of a Reason, not perfectly Savage, consents with you; but as for great Festivals, I conceive 'tis pos∣sible to be absent from them during all our lives, without loss of any great pleasure; and conse∣quently, that they may be dispens'd with for e∣ver. When I speak as I do (answer'd Anacreon) I do not mean those Feastings that are made at nuptial Solemnities where there are assembled a multitude of persons, for the most part strangers to one another, who know not what to speak of; where there are more impertinents than intelligent, where there is much talk but little discourse, where the conversation is rather a confus'd noise than a real society, where ceremony is supream regent, where molestation and tediousness always meet, where multitude excites longing desires of, and gives extraordinary endearments to solitude, and where oftentimes people dye for hunger in the midst of abundance, because freedom, property, order, and decency, are excluded from such en∣tertainments. There arises at such times a disgust in us, that causes us to fancy nothing good; we are oftentimes plac'd directly against persons whom we do not affect, others on each hand who di∣sturb us, and on what ever side we turn, there is nothing to be found but disorder, set off with tedious ceremony, and consequently occasioning much dissatisfaction. The description Acacr••on has made of a troublesom feast, is perfectly hand∣som, (said Amilcar) and if he will represent a pleasant one, I believe it will be very acceptable to the company. As for my part (said that lover of Plotina, who was of the sect of Pythagoras) I ne∣ver understood that the joy of virtuous people could depend on high fare, or that the delicacy of taste was necessary to the felicity of a rational man. On the contrary, I believe the owners of this in∣clination, are for the most part, enemies of all Be∣commingness and Virtue, and that there are few vices to which they are strangers. When Anacreon spok of an agreeable Feast (answer'd Amilcar) he does not mean one of those exorbitant Feasts, which admit not the presence of virtuous Ladies, from whence decencie is banisht, where licentiousness takes the place of liberty, where 'tis a glory to lose reason, where disorder causes the greatest pleasure that is found there, where the discourse is often∣times without coherence, and without wit, where they that speak are not hearken'd too, where they who attend, understand nothing of what is spoken to them, where one while there is good singing, and another while prodigious roaring; where Virtue and good manners are made a mockery of, and where insolence and rudeness pass for agreeable deportment and good company: for, to speak de∣terminately, I account men that spend all their whole lives in Feasts of this nature, much inferior to beasts. No doubt, you have reason (reply'd Anacreon) for these sorts of jollities have more correspondence with the extravagances of Baccha∣nals, than with true joy. But that which to me is most agreeable, is, to find five or six friends toge∣ther, free from business and melancholly, and who looking upon good fare only as a tye that draws them together, and as that which affords liberty and contributes to joy, really find all the pleasure therein they are able to wish for. There the con∣versation is free, chearful. and pleasant; we speak what we please and what we think, we impart as much delectation as we receive; the fancy is rais'd, and the wit displaies it self more than at other times, without constraint or ostentation; we re∣member our absent friends, we talk of our loves, we premeditate new pleasures, by making an ap∣pointment for another entertainment; and inter∣mixing the Feast with agreeable Sonnets, Musick, now and than a little walk, and a little discourse, it may be concluded, both the body and mind are highly refresh'd and satisfi'd, and there remains no∣thing to be desir'd, but the renovation of the same pleasure. But to cause this pleasure to be perfect, it is requisite the familiarity of the guests afford them more joy in being together, than the near∣ness

and rare skill of the Officers of him that treats his friends, can give them. Not that I blame those who have a delicate palate; for 'tis an advantage of Nature, as well as to have a quick sight: but the principal part of pleasure ought not to be plac'd in it. Nor ought an agreeable entertainment to re∣semble a great Feast; there ought to be order, choice, neatness, property, and handsome abun∣dance, nothing superfluous in it, with joy and freedom. Your discourse extreamly pleases me (answer'd Plotina) but that there is one thing I am unsatisfi'd with, which is, that you make no mention of Ladies in your Festivals, after the Greek mode, as if there were none present at them. 'Tis true, added she, before the War, the Ladies at Rome did not much frequent them; but we draw this advantage at least from our unhappiness, to have a little more liberty than we formerly en∣joy'd. As Plotina was speaking thus, Clelius was seen to enter, and with him Artemidorus, who was newly arriv'd, and having first acquainted the Consul Horatius, with the oceasion of his coming, suffer'd himself to he conducted by Clelius to this Garden, without knowing any thing of the ar∣rival of Clidamira and Berelisa. Which caus'd him to be strangely surpris'd, when he beheld those two fair persons amongst all those Roman Ladies. Berelisa and Clidamira were as much surpris'd when they perceiv'd him, and could not con∣tain from blushing. They lookt one upon an∣other, as if to read what each thought, in their eyes; and they beheld Artemidorus likewise, to discover which of them he lookt upon most favour∣ably. But he avoided the eyes of Clidamira, as if he had fear'd to meet them, and endeavour'd to encounter with those of Berelisa. Clelia, on the other side, who knew he could give her some in∣telligence of her dear Aronces, approacht to him, with as much ardency as his Mistresses, who both made a complement to him, in which there ap∣pear'd some reservedness, because indeed they durst not speak according to their real sentiments. But when they observ'd Artemidorus in a place where there was so many fair persons present, they were possess'd with very different thoughts; Berelisa fearing lest he should fall in love with some one of them, and Clidamira almost wishing it, only for the pleasure to see him no longer Berelisa's Lover: but being in a great company, they constrain'd themselves, and check'd their sentiments. As for Artemidorus, the first agitation of his heart being pass'd, he sought to approach Berelisa; but this amiable Virgin having perceiv'd the company knew her adventures, after telling him in two words, she should gladly entertain him, when she could do it without being observ'd by so many eyes, entreated him not to oblige her at that time to a particular conversation. Now this day being design'd for the jollity of all the company in gene∣ral, Clelius; to whom these fair strangers and Ana∣creon were presented, and by him civilly receiv'd, signifi'd that according to the order of great Feasts made at Rome, a Thaliarch, or King of the Feast, ought to be nominated, who might be a fit person, to choose the divertisements for the company. Amilcar propounded Anacreon, as being the best qualify'd to dispence joy at such an entertainment; but he desir'd to be excus'd, pretending his igno∣rance of the customs of Rome: But Clelius tel∣ling him Herminius should teach him them, and likewise cause his Orders to be executed, he took upon him the Office; and the first thing he com∣manded, was, that every one should walk and discourse with whomsoever he pleas'd, during the time, Herminius and Amilcar instructed him in what was requisite for him to know, Which the company obeying, divided themselves into seve∣ral little ones Sulpicia seated her self in a verdant Arbor, with two or three women of quality, which arriv'd at that time: Clelius betook himself to dis∣course, concerning the publick affairs with one of his friends: Artemidorus walk'd between Berelisa and Cesonia: Horatius consorted himself with Cle∣lia, who, to hinder him from speaking of his passi∣on to her, retain'd Plotina, with whom were Si∣cinius, Telanus, and Acrisius; Zenocrates enter∣tained Clidamira: and Valeria was involuntarily oblig'd to endure the company of Aemilius and Spurius, though she soon after desir'd Flavia to continue with her. This fair company being thus divided, several little knots of them were seen in almost all places of the garden: but Zenocrates be∣ing desirous Clidamira should not have leasure to observe Artemidorus, and having an extream long∣ing to know what occasion'd her to he with Be∣relisa, and for what reasons they were come into Italy, he ask'd her the question. And for that he had formerly been sometimes her Lover, and some∣times her Confident, she told him, the Father of Berelisa being married again, out of love to a per∣son, who was unwilling this charming Lady should dwell with her, her Father absolutely com∣manded her to enter into the order of Vail'd Vir∣gins, where the Princess Philonice was, and to en∣ter into it, never to come forth again; or else to go and dwell with her at Leontium, and that what∣ever jealousie Berelisa was possest with, she lik'd rather to dwell with her, than for ever renounce the pretensions she had for Artemidorus. I see well (answer'd Zenocrates) Berelisa has had cause ra∣ther to choose to live with you, than to enter into the Order of Vail'd Virgins, for her life time: but I do not so well understand, why you consented to have with you a Sister-in-law, whom you do not love. Ah! Zenocrates (reply'd Clidamira) I perceive you no better understand Love, than you did the time I saw you last; for if you were more knowing in true Love, you would apprehend, that notwithstanding my jealousie, it was a sufficient satisfaction to me to have my Rival in my power. When she was at Agrigentum, I always believ'd Artemidorus was there disguis d,or writ to her eve∣ry day, and I was then far more tormented, than since her being at Leontium, where no doubt, I have so much credit, that Artemidorus and the Princess his Sister, shall never return thither, un∣less I negotiate their accommodement with the Prince. But wherefore (said Zenocrates) do you not make that negotiation, and so oblige Artemi∣dorus to forget your pretended inconstancy? Ah! Zenocrates (answer'd she) if he could forget Be∣relisa, he would soon forget my pretended incon∣stancy. But to make an end of telling you what you desire to know, your must understand, my Sister-in-Law and I have had a thousand contests, for Artemidorus since we were together; for I have told her a hundred times, I would never procure that Prince's revocation, unless she would promise me

to think no more of him, and she has told me, a thou∣sand and a thousand times, that she knew with infal∣lible certainty, that Prince would never love me, though he should desist from loving her, and so I should but render him unhappy, without being able to draw any advantage from the infelicity that I caus'd to him. Upon which, being desirous to be in∣form'd of the future, by all the ways that people endeavour to know it, and a friend of mine assuring me the Praenestine Lots give an absolute decision in all cases wherein they are consulted, we took a re∣solution to come into Italy for that purpose; for as for my part, I confess to you, being I excited the first passion in Artemidorus, I cannot think but that he will return again to me. Berelisa on the other side, believes Inconstancy can never be forgotten, nor a dead Love reviv'd; For which reasons we are desirous to be satisfi'd, whether of us two is mista∣ken, and to order our lives accordingly after the de∣termination. In the mean time, I fear this casual meeting of Artemidorus, will decide the matter soon∣er: Nevertheless, since he flyes me (added she)' tis a sign he fears me still, and I must not despair but the Lots of Praenestine may prove favourable to me. Whilst Clidamira was speaking this, and all the rest of the company entertaining themselves according to their own inclination, Herminius instructed A∣nacreon in the customs of Rome, to the end he might better acquit himself of the charge that Clelius had given him. But amongst the rest, he told him, that since the fair and potent City of Alba had been uni∣ted with Rome, there was introduc'd a kind of a game of chance, of sufficient pleasure; for it having been necessary at that time, to lodge all the remain∣ing Inhabitants of Alba, in a quarter of Rome, to take away all contest about places assigned them for their particular habitations, the business was referr'd to lot by little tickets, in some of which were writ∣ten the names of the Inhabitants of Alba, and in o∣thers the houses design'd for them. And ever since (said Amilcar) it has been accounted a piece of de∣light to make use of chance in pleasant affairs; so that when the King of a feast is liberal, he bestows a great number of magnificent gifts, which are di∣stributed according to chance, by putting all the names of the persons present into tickets, and ex∣pressing all the things intended to be given in o∣thers. But to discover the good luck and the bad, there are fewer Presents put in, than there are Per∣sons at the Feast, that sothere may be some unfor∣tunate, to be either pittied, or derided in the way of raillery. This custom seems to me extream hand∣some (answer'd Anacreon) but being I am a stran∣ger, and have nothing to give, some other invention must be devis'd to employ chance in a divertising manner. Accordingly Herminius and Amilcar being agreed with him concerning all things, Herminius took upon him the execution of them, and Anacreon and Amilcar re united with the company. But by the way they beheld together in a walk, the person who was wont to speak too much, and he who us'd to speak too little, who were constrain'd to be a part by themselves, by reason Plotina had rid her self of them, and every one avoided him that was over talkative, and no body car'd for him that was little better than a mute. Amilcar taking no∣tice of them, told Anacreon the different humor of those two men, which were well match'd together, since the first was always speaking, and the other scarce ever spake at all. In the mean time, Clelius being sent for away by the Consul Horatius, the company became more free; for Sulpitia was one of those Ladies whose Virtue is not severe, and who never interrupt the divertisements of young persons, provided they exceed not decen∣cy; and besides, having liv'd so long a time in Africa, she was thereby become something less ri∣gid. Now all these little Companies being again assembled in a large round place, beset about with seats, they all sate down, and made a very gallant appearance; for the Ladies having walk'd for some time, the colour of their complexions appear'd more fresh and vivid, when they came to lift up their veils; but though all the Ladies present were very fair, yet the beauty of Clelia much transcended that of all the rest, though she were not at that time possess'd with all the joy neces∣sary to set off, and enliven a great Beauty. The men were sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, and sometimes upon their knees before the La∣dies, according as they pleas'd: but being Clida∣mira and Berelisa were strangers, Clelia and Vale∣ria were very careful to entertain them, as like∣wise to discourse with Anacreon; for though the language he us'd was something broken, because he learnt the Roman tongue in Sicily, yet he spoke so agreeably, that all the world took pleasure in hearing him; for he discours'd of a hundred dif∣ferent things, and always admirably well. I be∣seech you (said Clelia to Berelisa) be pleas'd to tell me, what Countrey Anacreon is of. He is of one of those Islands which are generally called the Cyclades (answer'd she) and was born in Teia, which was not far from Delos, but has spent a great part of his life at Samos, in the Court of Polycrates, by whom he was very much belov'd. Yet Love subverted his favour with him after a while. Was it because he was Rival to the Prince? (said Valeria) There's probability of it (an∣swer'd Berelisa) but I know not exactly; for though Anacreon has testifi'd much kindness to Clidamira and me, yet we observ'd he car'd not to make us privy to his Love; and all I know concerning it, is, that he told us Polycrates one day causing several eminent Ladies of his Court to dance before him, attir'd like gods and goddes∣ses, and Nymphs, and Muses, there was one per∣son that represented Apollo, who so affected his heart, that he commended only her; by reason of which Polycrates afterwards conceiv'd so horrid a jealousie, that transported with indignation and fury against this fair person, whom he suspected to correspond with his passion, he caus'd her hair to be cut off, to the end she might appear less fair in the eyes of Anacreon; who became so afflicted at it, that to eternise the memory of that lovely hair, he made the handsomest Verses in the World, up∣on that subject. I have heard this adventure re∣lated after another way, (said Amilcar, who was present) but since you know it from Anacreon, you ought to be believ'd, For my part (inter∣rupted Anacreon not knowing what Amilcar was speaking of) I conceive it good to doubt of every thing: Nevertheless (said Clelia) your aspect does not speak you of a distrustful mind: You have rea∣son (answer'd he) but to shew you that I easily doubt of what is told me, I even doubt, whether what I spoke last be rational or not, and I cannot presently name above one thing that I do not doubt of, which is, that you are the fairest person that

ever I beheld: Anacreon speaks this with such an air (said Clidamira) that I believe he will shortly love you as much as he loves Roses, though he loves them sufficiently, to give them immortality by his writings. And indeed (added Berelisa) he has compos'd Verses extreamly pleasant; only upon the prerogatives and excellencies of Roses. No question (said Anacreon) I prefer Roses above all other Flowers; but 'tis not the Spring alone, that causes me to have such a peculiar affection for them, but some other I cannot tell what thing (ad∣ded he smiling) which has great resemblance with the Spring. Namely (said Amilcar) the love you have had, or have for some fair and young person, who lov'd Roses, has caus'd you to affect them, more than otherwise you would have done. I con∣fess it (answer'd Anacreon) and I acknowledge al∣so, that her memory is still so dear to me, that I can never see Roses, nor Rose-bushes, without re∣senting some kind of sweet, though with all trou∣blesome, emotion in my heart. Yet you have a very joyful aspect (said Herminius) for one, sub∣ject to great passions; at least, we are not wont to suspect cheerful persons at Rome, to be capable of any great invasion by them. I love Joy, no doubt, extreamly (reply'd Anacreon) and if love were without pleasure, I should never be amo∣rous. But as there are some melancholly persons by constitution, who notwithstanding are not un∣capable of resenting joy, so there are some natu∣rally addicted to mirth, yet sufficiently sensible of sorrow. Thus, though I am sufficiently jo∣vial, and seek pleasure in all places, oftentimes also carrying it whither I go, yet I do not cease to be discontented, perplex'd and jealous, when I am possess'd with love; for there ought to be a difference made between melancholly and sorrow, as likewise between cheerfulness and joy. Yet methinks (said Plotina) there is a great resem∣blance between chearfulness and joy, and with all the wit you have, you can never manifest to me any considerable difference between them. To perceive it distinctly (answer'd Anacreon), you must know there is no person in the world, but may be capable of some kind of joy, and there are only a certain number of persons in the world ca∣pable of chearfulness. For this latter is a quality pe∣culiar to those of a jovial constitution: but as for Joy, when ever it pleases Fortune, it may be found in the hearts of the most melancholick per∣sons. Yea, 'tis sometimes more sensible there, than in those of the most mirthful inclinations, (added Herminius) not only, because contraries are advanc'd by proximity, but because persons of this temper having usually more violent desires, have also a greater joy when they can satisfie them, than they have, whose desires are more moderate. We see it happens that joy sometimes causes sighing, when it is extreme, whereas laugh∣ter is the perpetual effect of cheerfulness. Joy can never arise of it self alone, it must always have some extraneous cause. 'Tis not so with chearfulness, which arises of it self, and there needs nothing but health to such as are of a jolly and airy humour. Joy is an infallible consequent of all passions when they are satisfi'd; cheerfulness subsists without aid, though it may be augmented by causes from without. Indeed we may observe at this present I am speaking, that the presence of these fair strangers and Anacreon, redoubles the cheerfulness of the amiable Plotina, and Amilcar, as may at least be gather'd from their eyes. But why do you not also add Zenocrates? (said Clelia;) 'Tis certainly (answer'd Plotina, without giving Amilcar leasure to speak) because Zenocrates is sometimes sad and sometimes jovial: and giving himself frequently to musing as he does, it cannot be easily determin'd, whether he be serious, though it may be assured that he is always agreeable. But in brief, if he take not some course to correct those little distractions, his dear Friends reproach him with, I foresee there will one day happen a War between the Pleasant and the Melancholists; for being a person of Merit, one side will claim him for theirs, and the other challenge them wholly to themselves. Yet I am not so much wander'd in my thoughts (answer'd Zenocrates, smiling) but that I perceive you employ a very ingenious raillery against me; and if I were as vindicative a per∣son, as you are a derider, would reproach your pleasantness to you with as much mockery, as you do my Musings to me. After which Sulpitia, who was entertaining her self with several Ladies of her friends, led the Company to the place where the Feast was prepar'd, where there wanted no∣thing that could render it agreeable. The place was well furnish'd with lights, the Tables magnificent and very decently serv'd, and the Men were the Ladies Attendents at this entertainment; there was an excellent consent of Musique, and af∣ter the repast there came some women to dance, and divert the Ladies, whilst the Men went to their Collation in another place. But when this was done, the King of the Feast, being counselled by Herminius and Amilcar, who better understood the Roman customs than he, propounded the above∣mention'd Game of Chance to the company. Ana∣creon excus'd himself as a stranger, and for that he was not wealthy enough to render this pastime as magnificent, as he understood it had sometimes been in the reign of Ancus Martius, when an il∣lustrious Roman, whose Family was descended from the antient King of Sicily, had the liberality to give three hundred magnificent presents, and to choose three hundred persons, to whom Fortune alone had given all the excellent things he parted with for his humor, without reserving to him∣self any other right in them, than to manifest to all that were chose, that he judg'd them worthy to possess the most valuable presents, since he empower'd them to obtain the same by hazard. This magnificence (continu'd Anacreon) was, no doubt, worthy of a man who had all the quali∣ties necessary to govern States gloriously, and ag∣grandize them; but as for me, (added he) I find my self enforc'd to supply my defects, by some shift of wit, and to render the game as di∣vertising otherwise as I am able. To begin there∣fore (said he) according to the power my digni∣ty gives me, I require that all the hearts of the Men and the Ladies, be put into tickets, and that every one without distinction draw a ticket, to see if Fortune, who is blind as well as Love, will hap∣ly match the success. It will be requisite then, (said Horatius) that the hearts of the Men be put apart by themselves, and those of the Ladies in another place. By no means (answer'd Anacreon) but observe how I intend the matter. If a Lady

happen to have the heart of a Man, it signifies that she is lov'd by him; if a man have the heart of a Lady, it shall be free for him to hope, that he shall one day be not ill-treated by her: If the heart of a man falls to the lot of another man 'tis a sign he is more inclinable to friendship than to Love; and if it he returns to himself, it denotes that he loves himself more than all the rest of the World, and loves nothing else but for his own sake. For as for my self (added Anacreon slily, who understood the cause of Clidamira and Be∣relisa's voyage) I shall give as much credit to this Game, as to the Lots of Praeneste. Though you are much in favor with a certain god, that em∣pow'rs to divine of the most occult matters (an∣swer's Clidamira smiling and blushing) yet I shall not be over-credulous to your pastime of Chance. But though it were only to try what hazard may do, I consent my Heart be put to the venture. Which all the Ladies and the Men likewise, do∣ing, every one was constrain'd to write his own ticket. All the company therefore writ their names with what they pleas'd under them, suta∣ble to the occasion. So that, excepting Sulpitia and two other Ladies her Friends, who were dis∣coursing together in a Closet near the Chamber, wherein the company then was, there was none but writ their names. Clelia, Plotina, Valeria, Clidamira, Berelisa, Flavia, Cesonia, Salonina, and some other Ladies writ their tickets; so also did Horatins, Artemidorus, Telanus, Herminius, Amil∣car, Sicinius, Acrisius, Damon, Spurius, Anacreon, and some others; after which, all the tickets were put into an Urn, and Anacreon going round the company in order, began at Clelia, who trembled as she drew the ticket it behov'd her to take, be∣cause she fear'd lest the heart of Horatius should fall to her Lot. For though it was but a trifling pastime, yet she perceiv'd an unwillingness in her self to give him that false joy. Horatius on the contrary, wish'd the heart of Clelia might come to his hands after this manner; and though this sport was meerly frivolous without consequence, yet every person that had any conceal'd interest, could not contain from resenting some kind of light inquietude, the vehemence of affection be∣ing apprehensive of what ever events. But amongst the rest, Clidamira and Berelisa had a curiosity to see, to whose lot the heart of Artemidorus would happen. But to proceed, Clelia having drawn the first ticket, unhappily lighted upon the name of Horatius, with these words underneath;

I am ignorant what Fortune will do with my heart, but I well know how Love has dis∣pos'd of it.

Clelia blush'd after she had open'd this Ticket, and refus'd to shew it; but the order of the pa∣stime requiring it to be seen by all the company, Horatius had the joy to see Fortune had well guid∣ed his heart. At which, Artemidorus was not able to put off all fear, lest his should not be so happy as that of Horatius. But in the next place, Ana∣creon having oblig'd Zenocrates to take a ticket, he found that his own heart return'd to himself, which occasion'd the company sufficiently to laugh, because he was accus'd by all the fair ones, to do no more than lend his heart, and suddenly with∣drew it again, out of the hands of those whom he suffer'd to take it. They desir'd to see what he had written under his name, but it could not be, for being something mov'd at the raillery made against him, he tore his ticket into pieces; and so it behov'd Anacreon to proceed: Next therefore he presented the Urn to Plotina, who was some time in suspence without resolving, what ticket to choose, during which, Amilcar, Telanus, Acri∣sius, and Sicinius, were anxious in conjecturing whom she wish'd to light upon; for you would have thought she intended to choose the heart that should happen to her lot, though she was not able to distinguish amongst them: Whereupon Acrisius who lov'd to speak much, was not con∣tented to be silent in this occasion, but began to request her with as much importunateness, as could be employ'd by an ardent desire, to leave the event to the hazard of the Game, and not to pick out whom to choose. And Plotina, only to si∣lence him, hastned to draw a ticket, wherein she found the name of Sicinius, who having not fol∣low'd his own humor of speaking little in wri∣ting, as well as in conversation, had written these words underneath his name;

'Tis only in the fair Plotina's power to dis∣pose of my heart, and not in Fortune's.

Plotina had no sooner open'd this Ticket, but Amilcar, Telanus, and Acrisius, were enrag'd a∣gainst Chance, for having favour'd Sicinius rather than themselves; and Acrisius made his complaint with such abundance of words, that the continu∣ation of the pastime was almost forgotten. As for Sicinius, there did not want much but that his joy was dumb, for he exprest it only in three or four words. Then Valeria drew her ticket. If the Lot had been equitable, without doubt she had drawn the heart of Herminius, or that of Aemilius; but it hapned to be that of the re∣vengeful Spurius, who had writ these words in his Ticket;

I defie Fortune to take me from her, to whom I have given my self, since hatred and jealousie have not been able to do it.

Valeria blush'd with extream vexation, for ha∣ving hapned upon this ticket; which serv'd some∣thing to comfort Herminius and Valerius for their unhappiness: for though 'tis possible for one to blush obligingly, yet the eyes of a Lover are well able to discern a ruddiness proceeding from choler, from one that is favourable; whence Spurius also knew as well as Herminius and Aemilius, what interpretation to make of the blushing of Vale∣ria. In the mean time Anacreon having caus'd Amilcar to draw a ticket, he made a hundred shifts before he opened it. He beheld all the beauties one after another, though he stopt at Plotina, and told her, he passionately wish'd the ticket fall'n to him, were that which she had written. But at length having open'd it, he found chance had gi∣ven him the heart of Anacreon, who had writ these words in his ticket;

I know not to whom Lott will give me; but I know well, that joy is the true Mistress of my heart.

Ha! my dear Anacreon (cry'd Amilcar with a transport he was unable to suppress) we are Ri∣vals; but the Mistress we serve is so gentle, that she yields to whosoever takes her, so that we shall never be jealous. I am very glad of the declara∣tion you have now made (said Plotina smiling) for being your Mistress is one of my friends too, I may—Alas! I beseech you (interrupted Amil∣car) do not triumph over me for what I have spo∣ken; for I swear I am no lover of joy, but be∣cause I see it in your eyes, I find it in all your discourses, and in loving and serving you, and for that I know it always resides in your heart; and did I find it any other where, perhaps I should not love it at all. As for my part (said Anacreon) who spake sincerely, I acknowledge I am a Lo∣ver of it, where ever I find it. After which, he oblig'd Artemidorus to take a ticket, who drew that wherein Clidamira had writ these words;

Did I dispose of my heart, it should never be but my own.

I assure you Madam, (said Artemidorus to Cli∣damira with a low voice) it has always been yours more than mine, and shall still be so, more than any others in the world. I wish to the gods it were so, (answer'd Clidamira) and I would stop my journey to Praeneste. Mean while Berelisa, who heard not what these two persons were speaking, conceiv'd jealousie at it, as well as regret; for that lot had given the heart of Clidamira to Artemidorus. Nevertheless, being oblig'd to choose a ticket, she constrain'd her self, and drew one; but instead of finding in it the heart of Artemidorus, as she desir'd, she found her own, which Fortune had re∣turned to her. And that which was remarkable, was, that she was almost as much troubl'd, as if Artemidorus had refus'd it. Yet this Prince desir'd to see what she had written in the ticket, and found these words;

It belongs not to Fortune to dispose of my heart.

You have reason, Madam, (said Artemidorus to her) and the most precious thing in the world, ought not to depend on one that is capricious, and dispences all her liberalities without choice. After this, Anacreon caus'd Aemilius to draw, who found the name of Plotina with these words;

Take my heart who pleases, but I intend it to be restor'd to me as often as I will.

As for my part, Madam, (said Aemilius to her) who have always thought, tht could never be well possess'd, which was possible to be lost, I con∣ceive I should do very prudently, not to accept a P••esent which Fortune has given me, against your will; and besides, I am not able to return you heart for heart, for I had no longer any to dispose of the first time I had the honor to see you. Then I re∣sume mine very willingly (answer'd Plotina) for 'tis a thing we always have need of, and more convenient for it to be at home than elsewhere. But have you it there, (said Acrisius) and may the word of a person be rely'd on, that scarce ever speaks seriously, who makes mirth of every thing, and perhaps glories in deluding those, who would by a thousand services, oblige her only to suffer them to be her servants? All that you say, is ve∣ry well spoken (reply'd Plotina craftily) but 'tis good not to speak so much at a time, while there are yet so many hearts to be match'd. Since it is no longer possible for me to obtain a heart, which is desir'd by many others besides my self (said Te∣lanus) I do not much care for continuing the pastime. That which I desir'd being also already given, and return'd, (added Acrisius) I shall be well enough satisfi'd if it do not proceed, for when there's no longer hope left, nothing can be delecta∣ble. If I lov'd to speak as much as you, (answer'd Sicinius coldly) I should say the same that you do. For my part (said Damon, the Disciple of Pytha∣goras) since I believe not that hearts love as much to change place, as Souls do to change Bodies, I consent to the change of the divertisement. Flavia, Salonina, and the rest of the company perceiving the pleasure of it was past, Berelisa, Clidamira, Artemidorus, Plotina, and Amilcar, having already drawn their tickets, told Anacreon they would dis∣pence with him, from proceeding in the distributi∣on of the hearts which remain'd; for 'tis probable too (said Themistus) they will not continue where lot disposes them. Since 'tis so, said Anacreon, we will leave all the hearts that are left, to go whither they please. But because I love such pleasures as oc∣casion the production of others, I must make this pastime after another manner, and instead of those hearts, dispos'd of by Fortune, we will write tickets, in which there shall be both pleasures and punishments, and every one shall be engag'd to re∣ceive the first, and undergo the latter. Provided there be a Lady of your counsel, said Clelia, I be∣lieve the company will obey you without repug∣nance. I find your caution equitable, answer'd Anacreon, and I engage to resolve on nothing but with your consent. The amiable Plotina, reply'd this fair Lady, is much more fit than I to be of your counsel, and therefore I advise you to make choice of her. Though I am not worthy to pos∣sess a place that was design'd to you, said Plotina, yet I shall not refuse to take it, if Anacreon plea∣ses. And accordingly this illustrious Greek plac'd himself near her, and imparted to her his purpose. After which, having with the assistance of Amil∣car, made new tickets, each of which contain'd, either a pleasure or a penalty, they were mingled and distributed; all the company pro∣mising they would punctually do what ever was appointed to them by their respective tickets. In the mean time Artemidorus being plac'd between Berelisa and Clidamira, was sufficiently perplex'd, and so much the more, that Themistus having en∣gag'd Berelisa in a discourse, he became forc'd to answer to Clidamira, who us'd to him the most insinuating and moving expressions in the world. So that as a virtuous man is much put to't to be∣come cruel, he answer'd civilly enough, and con∣tented himself handsomely to put off part of her

blandishments and sweetnesses. Berelisa, who had a delicate and tender mind; easily sensible of trouble, as a person who really loved, was possessed with vexation and jealous•••• even so as to change her colour, and not to answer very di∣rectly to that which Themistus said to her. At length Anacreon, having distributed his Tickets, every one opened their own, and beheld the plea∣sure they were to have, or the punishment to which they were condemned. Valeria being the most diligent in opening that which fell to her, found her self impowred to cause a Sonnet to be sung by whom she pleased of the company. Cle∣lia found that she was obliged to entrust a secret with Anacreon. Themistus to tell his opinion con∣cerning a Love-question that Anacreon should pro∣pound to him, Berelisa to recite some amorous Verses, Acrisius, who always spoke so much, not to speak at all, the rest of that evening, Sicinius, (who as much hated to speak,) to relate his own life, Clidamira, to declare what she hated most, Plotina to command Amilcar whatsoever she pleased, and he not to disobey her, Artemidorus to give a Mu∣sick-entertainment in the same Garden two days after, Telanus to give the Ladies a handsome Col∣lation before the Musick, Spurius to promise to hate no person, Aemilius to tell whither it were possible to love without desires and without hope, Amilcar to relate a handsome amorous History on the evening of the next Collation; Herminius to make a description of all the divertisement of this day. For Anacreon being counselled by Amilcar, had so well ordered the matter, that that which seemed chance was really not so, in the most of tickets distributed, except in those of the rest of the Com∣pany, which contained nothing suiting to any per∣son in particular. But when Valeria had opened the ticket which permitted her to command whom she pleased to sing a Sonnet, Clidimira gave her to understand, that Anacreon sung well, where∣upon addressing to him, as there is sufficient glory, said she to him, to command those who command others, do not take it ill that I choose you to obey me, and command you to sing: And since there is no better example, answered he, than to see those that make Laws observe them, I shall not scruple to obey you. And accordingly Ana∣creon sung several couplets of one of his Odes, with so much grace and exactness, that it being a very handsome air, it pleased even those who understood not the Greek, but it charmed those who did; for he feigned that he desired to tune his Lyre to sing the high exploits of Heroes, and thinking he had tuned it right, when he went to use it, he found it would play of nothing but Love; and then endeavoring to sing of divers Sub∣jects one after another, he continually happened to say at the end of each Couplet;

I cannot sing of ought but Love.

All this company desired to oblige Anacreon, to sing the same Sonnet again, but he alleadged the Ticket of Clelia, obliging that fair person to intrust him with a secret. His desire to know it would not allow him patience to sing longer; and so approaching respectfully to her, she began to whisper to him and tell him a fictitious secret, not judging it fit to discover a true one to a person she saw but the first time But Anacreon delighting to speak to her, pretended that what she told him was no secret, and so endeavored to bring her into the necessity to prove to him it was. But if I should speak aloud what I have told you, (answered Clelia,) my secret would cease to be such; therefore it is requisite, if you please, that you take it upon my word. This reason having seemed good to the Company, Anacreon propound∣ed a Love question to Themistus, to tell his opini∣on of. It was, whether he believed Love could subsist, during an absence which was known would be perpetual, and if Love could remain constant in the heart of a Lover and a Mistress, while they were certain of never enjoying one anothers sight again. For eternal absence (added he) is a kind of death in Love, and seems fatal enough to extinguish it. That which you pro∣pound to me (answered Themistus) cannot very easily come to pass, for the mind is always soo∣thed up with some relique of hope. But 'tis pos∣sible, two persons that love one another, may find so little probability of meeting again, as to believe they never shall; whereby there may be no hope left in their minds of ever attaining any satisfacti∣on of their Love. Nevertheless I conceive, if a mans heart be really touched, and the person he loves return him affection for affection, if it be only the crosness of Fortune that separates such two persons, without their own contributing ought thereto on one side or other, if they behold a deep sorrow in one anothers eyes at their separa∣tion, and be absolutely assured of their reciprocal dearness, I conceive (I say) their affection may subsist, notwithstanding their eternal absence. The grief arising from their separation, may no doubt be diminished, since it is not possible to live always in lamentation. But Love will not wear away, yet it will remain less sensible in process of time, though always sufficiently strong to keep it self from being destroyed by an other passion, and to cause us to love nothing but that we have fixed our affections upon, though without hope of ever receiving contentment from it. At least I have found sentiments in my own heart, which per∣swade me I should be capable of such an unusual fi∣delity (for we oftentimes see absence of no great duration, proves destructive to very ardent passi∣ons.) There are some people (interrupted Plotina) who in the very places where their Mistresses are present, are lyable to absences of heart worse than the other. But to make an end of my sentiment, (continued Themistus) I am of opinion, a violent Love will not become absolutely extinct during a long absence, if a new passion do not destroy it; for there is something so sweet in Loving, that when we once love well, our minds are unable to resolve to love nothing at all, after having tast∣ed the sweetness of this passion. You have so well satisfied what I enjoyned you (answered Anacre∣on) that if the lovely Berelisa acquit her self as well of what is commanded her, she will repeat very amorous Verses. Nevertheless (said she blush∣ing) I shall not repeat many; for I have a memo∣ry as unfaithful, as others have their hearts. But since 'tis unlawful to disobey you, I shall repeat some Verses I learnt heretofore, made (as was said) by a Woman, whilst she imagined a Lover

whom she affected, returned to love a former Mistress, whom she accounted unworthy of his affection. And accordingly Berelisa being lead by a jealous passion, recited the following Verses which she had made at Agrigentum, in the height of her jealousie, and had never shewed to any person till then; so that Artemidorus was surprised to hear that which follows;

Tell me, poor slave, what meant those shows Of tenderness, or all those vows; If thou intendest not to prove By them, thou truly wert in love? But since thou'rt turn'd disloyall, goe Condemned to disgrace and woe: Mean while I'le bless my self and smile Thy falsity did me beguile.

Berelisa repeating these Verses, turning a little towards Artemidorus, made the Company esteem them sufficiently amorous. Clidamira smiled de∣ceitfully, and Artemidorus was troubled, know∣ing Berelisa too well to be ignorant of the senti∣ments of her heart. But the best was, Acrisius who was so addicted to loquacity, not remem∣bring that his Ticket enjoyned him silence for all the remainder of the evening, could not contain himself from making a long acclamation in praise of these Verses. But Anacreon checking him for it, lengthened the time of his silence from the next morning to noon; after which Sicinius, who loved not long discourses, was obliged to relate his whole life in order to satisfying his ticket, which he did in this manner.

Whereas I am of opinion, a man cannot be said to have lived while he did not love, the rela∣tion of my life will not be long; for my love is but of six months date, and during that time I have had nothing else to do but to bemoan my self for the rigor of my Mistress, and uneffectu∣ally to endeavor to love her no more.

After this, Sicinius held his peace, and never∣theless made apparent by this short relation, that those who speak little, have sometimes as much wit, as those that speak excessively; for he hand∣somely enough quitted himself of the perplexity he was designed to be put into. In the next place Clidamira being to declare what she hated most, answered roughly, Not to be believed when she spoke truth. I conceive (said Berelisa craftily) it is more troublesome not to be believed when we speak an untruth, because it seems to be more cause of regret for a man to have invented a thing he is unable to make believed. Assuredly Berelisa has reason (answered the Prince Artemidorus,) but since it remains only for me to promise Musick, when the Ladies require it, I do it with pleasure. I do the like for the Collation injoyned me (added Telanus.) And as for me, (said Spurius) since I am obliged to promise not to hate any person, I do it with condition to break my word; for I foresee I shall not be freed from hatred so long as I am vo∣tary to Love. Now it belongs to me, (said Aemi∣lius, looking upon Valeria) to determine whether it is possible to love without desires, or without hope. But because it seems too late to make a long discourse, it will be more convenient for me to tell you the opinion of a Lover of my acquaintance, who one day made Verses upon this Subject, and in one place of that Work speaks thus;

Cold and fruitless is Loves fire, Whence is banisht all desire. If so, our hopes are gone; Love's state Makes such an one unfortunate; Nay, he is beyond man's thought A miscreant or else a sot.

Aemilius spoke these Verses with so passionate an air, that Valeria changed colour, and Herminius resented a kind of vexation at it. Nevertheless he took upon him to be the Historian of this gallant Feast, and Amilcar to recount an amorous History as his Ticket obliged him. After which, it being late, all this fair company retired. Sulpitia led Clidamira and Berelisa to the place where they were to lodge, and Herminius constrained Anacreon to go and lodge at the house of the virtuous Sivelia, who was friend to all the friends of her Illustrious Son, and loved worthy persons, sufficiently to be induced to give handsome reception to a stranger upon infor∣mation of his merit. As for Artemidorus, he was sufficiently sad; for he had observed Berelisa, was possessed without just cause for it, since he had only such civility for Clidamira, as a virtuous per∣son can never disclaim, but had a very tender pas∣sion for Berelisa. In which regard he was extream∣ly impatient till he could get an opportunity to en∣tertain her in private; which he could not easily bring about; for the next morning there was a great Company with Clidamira and her, so that he could do no more than tell her after a confused manner, that he ever loved her dearly, and that she was injurious to him, in apprehending any cause of jealousie. Berelisa blusht at these words, and not being able to suppress her first thought, but casting her eyes another way, you might more properly say, (answered she) that I am injurious in loving you, than in being jealous, since this cruel passion is an infallible concomitant of a tender af∣fection. Indeed my mind (continued she) is in a miserable condition; if I am generous, I ought to counsel you to desert me, and to put your self in a capacity of being once again deceived by Clidami∣ra, since she alone is able to re-ingratiate you with the Prince of Leontium, and without her you will be perpetually exil'd. On the other side, if I fol∣low the pure sentiments of my own Soul, I should rather choose to see you in eternal banishments, than to see Clidamira deprive me of that which she has lost by her own fault, and I have merited by an inviolable fidelity. Now judge what quietness my mind is capable of, especially when I see you have still as great civility for Clidamira, as if she had not been unfaithful. But is it possible, (re∣plyed Artemidorus) that you conceive an intelligent person can be uncivil to a Lady, and to a Lady he once Loved, and who would still perswade him that she does not hate him? But is it possi∣ble, (answered Berelisa passionately,) you can understand a true Lover can innocently have ci∣vility for a Lady who causes jealousie in the per∣son by whom he would be loved? However, (ad∣ded she) because I will not make my grief appa∣rent to the eyes of so many persons, who know

me not, I will conceal my sentiments the best I can, and observe yours with the greatest care possible, for, in my conjecture, you know them not your self. In earnest, added she, you love Clidami∣ra, more than you think you do, and love me less than you believe; and so undavertingly commit in∣fidelity against me. Alass! Madam, interrupted Artemidorus, I beseech you do not accuse me with injustice. But moreover, said Berelisa, you know not well what passes in you own heart, and take nor sufficient notice of the proceedings in mine. As Artemidorus was going to answer her, there came a great number of people who interrupted him; yet he began to speak and tell her, that he was necessitated to leave Clusium, for fear of being discovered by a man whom the Prince of Leontium had sent to Porsenna; of which having received notice by the Princess his Sister, he came back to Rome, the Princess also having taken upon her to send him intelligence how her affairs proceed∣ed. After which, Herminius being arrived with Te∣lanus, told the company that the Festival appoint∣ed, was to be hastned in favor of this generous Veientine, because the Veientines were within two days to send the Figure which they at first so pe∣remptorily denyed, and so Telanus would be obliged to depart, and without obeying the com∣mand which Lot had layd upon him, being the person designed to give the Collation. Sulpitia coming thither with Clelia, a moment after, it was concluded it should be the next day; and so Telanus took upon him to prepare for the Collati∣on, Artemidorus to give the Musick, and Amilcar to make the relation he was obliged to. Yet he declared that he would not trust to his memory nor his eloquence, but for the contentment of the Company, read them a History, famous for the name of the person principally concerned in it, which he not many days agoe had translated out of the Greek into the Roman Language. All the Company required he should relate some adven∣ture, wherein himself was interessed; but Plotina craftily alleadging, that being obliged to recount an amorous History, it was not fit he should speak of his own Love, because he knew not how to manage that passion, his choice was allowed, and the next morning the same persons, who had been at the former entertainment, being met together in the same Garden, it was resolved Amilcar should read the History which he had translated, and that before the Collation or the Walk, because it was not unreasonably presumed, the passages of his Relation would supply matter for the conver∣sation of the rest of the day. Wherefore all this fair Company being seated in a magnificent Hall, out of which was a very delightful prospect, Amilcar placed himself in such a manner, as he might be most easily understood by all that were present, and began to read the History of Hesiode, in which some are of opinion, that in the place of Apollo's prediction, some thing has been added in latter Ages. But to leave that in suspense, Amilcar be∣gan to read in this manner.

The HISTORY of HESIODE.

I Beseech you (interposed Plotina) stay a little, and first tell me, whether this Hesiode be not a great Poet, I have heard say lived many Ages ago? For if it be, I confess to you I should find it difficult to interest my self sensibly in the adven∣tures of people that have been out of the World so long. For my part (said Clelia,) I am not of your humor; for I am almost inclinable to lament the miserable adventures which are no more than fictitious, if they be invented with any resem∣blance of truth. That cannot I do, (replyed Plo∣tina) for that which passes in the same City where I am, affects me more than that which passes in Greece, and that which arrives in my own times, makes greater impression upon my heart, than that which hapned in the days of Romulus. In reference to such things (answered Clelia) as we see with our own eyes, or which befal people that we know, I consent with you, that they move more than others do, but in the telling of an Hi∣story relating to persons not of your knowledge, I confidently believe, we ought to be as much affect∣ed with an Adventure hapned in Greece, as at Rome, and there is no distance of places which takes away the sensibility of the heart, no Age so remote, but the fancy becomes near enough to it to excite com∣passion: for 'tis the things themselves we are moved with, and not so much the places or the persons; since every place or person you know not, is indifferent to you, and cannot affect you more one way than another. 'Tis the represen∣tation made to you of their sufferings that mollifies your heart; and if any man should invent a deplo∣rable sad Story, I conceive your self would be una∣ble to resist all sense of pitty: for in my judgment such as have greatest wits, suffer themselves to be most of all taken with things happily invented. The way to determine your controversies (said Her∣minius) is, to permit Amilcar to read. You have rea∣son, (answered Anacreon for if the amiable Plotina have no compassion for Hesiode, I think her the most cruel Virgin in the World, though the Histo∣ry Amilcar is going to read of him, should add no∣thing to the truth. Read then (said Plotina, be∣holding Amilcar) for it is not fit I should longer deprive the Company of the pleasure they expect from a History you have chosen to divert them. Yet you will please to remember, answered Amilcar, that I am engaged to relate none but an amorous History, and so the more love there is in that I shall read, the more I shall satisfie my Word. After this, the silence of all the Company intimating their expectation he should begin to read, he did so in these Words.

The History OF HESIODE.

HESIODE was of a very Illustrious Lineage, for 'tis affirmed he was descended from Orpheus, as well as Ho∣mer, who was his very near Kinsman, And indeed this pedegree is so particularly deduced, that there is no ground to believe it fictitious. They say, Orpheus was the Son of Aeacus and of the Muse Calliope; that Orpheus was Father of Drez, and Drez Fa∣ther of Eneleus; that from this latter, successive∣ly descended Jamonides, Philoterpe, Euphemus, Epiphrades, and Menalopus. This Menapolus had two Sons, Appelles and Ampelis; Appelles was Fa∣ther to Maeon, who going to Smyrna married Eu∣••••••is, by whom he had Homer. Ampelis on the other side married at Cuma, and had a Son called Dius, who was the Father of Hesiode. It is also recorded that his Family was very rich; but his Father have∣ing been rather prodigal than liberal, so intang led his affairs, that not being longer able to live at that height of expence he was wont to do, he left Cuma of Ionia where he dwelt, and went into Boeotia, where he rather made choice of the Countrey than the City for his ordinary residence, and dwelt at a Town called As••ra, the scituation of which was infinitely delectable. Besides also, Dius mar∣rying in this place with a Virgin of a sufficient Fortune, whose name was Pysimeda, he continu∣ed there as well out of interest as inclination. At the end of the first year of his Marriage, Hesiode came into the World, and the year after, Dius had another Son named Perses, who differed much from the first; for Hesiode was a great and excellent per∣son, and Perses was the true pattern of a wretch∣ed Poet, dull, lazy, envious, and full of vanity. The childhood of Hesiode was always delightful, and his education better than might have been expect∣ed from the Countrey. For Dius having con∣tracted a particular friendship with an eminent Priest of the Muses at the Mount Helicon, left the young Hesiode to him for some years. Now this famous Mountain, which is not far distant from that of Parnassus, being peculiarly consecrated to Apollo, and the Muses, all the considerable people throughout Greece, go thither at least once in their life time. And as places of great resort have always more politeness than others, Hesiod's wit became very gallant and polite, even in his tender youth. He had both boldness and discretion; and that which is always a good sign in the mind of a child, he had a general curiosity to get every thing explained to him which he did not under∣stand. He loved much to walk alone by himself, though otherwise his genius was sufficiently free. He was of a handsome person, civil, and of a plea∣sing conversation; but before he was eighteen years old, he never thought of employing him∣self in making Verses, although he was in a Coun∣trey consecrated to the Muses, and indeed the pleasures of Hesiode at this time, seem'd sufficient∣ly contrary to Poetry; for he lov'd Hunting more than Study, notwithstanding the general curiosity I told you he had from his Childhood, which in∣cited him always to enquire the reason of what he saw. Now being exactly at that age in which the heart of young people is as yet undetermin'd to any thing, and capable of taking to all whatsoever, wherein Vice and Virtue seem to dispute who shall possess it; Hesiode at his return from hunting, went to sit down at the brink of that famous Spring Hippocrene, which is at the foot of Helicon, which they say, arises out of a rock, and was first made by a stroke of Pegasus's foot, and which is so fa∣mous for the admirable virtue ascrib'd to it, of in∣spiring those that drink of it with an exquisite fa∣culty of making Verses. Hesiode therefore being something weary with the hunting he had been at, and finding a very pleasant shade near this Fountain, sate down there, and leaning against the body of a tree, betook himself to muse with sufficient pleasure, by reason of the purling of the stream, and the whispers of the leaves which were gently wav'd by a soft fresh wind; for it was exactly in that season of Roses, in which the West-winds are most agreeable, and in which the Festivals of Love was ready to be celebrated at Helicon, which was wont to be so emniz'd there every five years, as constantly as that of the Mu∣ses; to signifie, that, as Love cannot want the Mu∣ses, so the Muses cannot be without Love. Hesi∣ode entertaining himself in this manner, without having any great joy, or great sorrow, or other particular object, to imploy his mind, and awa∣ken his imagination, he fell by degrees into so profound a Musing, that he no longer took notice of that which he heard, or saw, or was thinking of. So that slumbring by little and little, he sup∣ported himself against a Tree, and fell asleep. His eyes had not long been shut, but his fancy being guided by the gods, presented him with an admi∣rable and surprising object; for on a suddain, he thought he beheld all the Muses about him, in

that manner as they are pictur'd, to wit, in the attire of Nymphs with loose Robes, with dishevel'd hair, with garlands and flowers upon their heads, and several instruments in their hands, correspon∣dent to the several things invented by them. Hesiode on a suddain beheld this Celestial Troop about him; he heard so melodious a Concent, that he was charmed with it; he fancied also that he beheld several little Cupids amongst them, who leaving off their sport to listen to them, seemed to hearken very attentively. But at length the Mu∣sick being ended, Calliope advancing towards him, after having had the consent of her companions, to do so, spoke to him almost in this manner, if yet it be lawful to fancy how the Muses speak.

Upon what thinkest thou, Hesiode? dost thou not fear that the gods will call thee to an account for the wit which they have given thee? what hast thou done with it since thou camest into the world? art thou not asham'd to dwell in the hill of He∣licon, to be neighbor to the Mountain from whence we took our birth, to be so near Parnassus, and to sleep on the brink of Hippocrene, without ever ha∣ving had a thought of composing Verses? Thinkest thou that the gods have given thee wit, memory, fancy, and judgement, to employ upon nothing? A waken thy self from this drowsiness, wherein sloth still detains thee, consider that the life of men is too short, for them to be contented with it, and that there is nothing so sweet as for a man to acquire immortality to himself. Consider what glory it is that attends thee, if thou believest the counsels which we give thee; and to encou∣rage thee to follow them, know, that if thou wilt, thy name shall be celebrated throughout all Ages, and amongst all Nations, and thou shalt be universally acknowledged for the Father of all the Poets, which shall arise in the whole extent of the world. Do not imagine that what we tell thee is a small matter, for I can assure thee (upon the word of Apollo, who knows things to come) that they who are descended, or who shall descend in the sequel of time, from the greatest Kings, or the most illustrious Heroes, shall not be owner of so great a fame, as they who shall follow thee. But to give thee a light Idaea of it, redouble thy at∣tention; follow me to the top of my Helicon, take good notice of all that I shall shew thee there, hearken with respect to the great things which I am going to inform thee of, and believe all that I shall tell thee cannot miss coming to pass; for the most secret books of destiny are always open to Apollo, from whom it is I speak to thee.

After this, Hesiode thought that he was trans∣ported to the top of Mount Helicon, from whence discovering all Greece, as he thought, he beheld the fairest object that ever he had seen. But though he conceiv'd himself elevated very high, yet he perceiv'd the most remote objects, as distinctly as if they had been very near; for when we see things only in imagination, we see them as well afar off as near. In this place under a great Lau∣rel which made a handsome umbrage, Calliope all alone appear'd to him again, and addressing to him with a majestical air, and full of sweetness and charms;

Rowze up thy mind, Hesiode, said she to him, receive respectfully the favour Apollo does thee, of rendring thee capable to penetrate into futurity, and to enjoy true glory, which is never found till after death, and consequently is not very considerable during life. But to cause thee to enjoy it amply, it is requisite that I make thee a description of Poetry, that I recall what's past, and reaching forth unto that which is to come, make thee know, what none other shall know during thy generation; but as they who intending to shew a great River to a stranger, would not go to take view of it near its Spring, because it would seem too little; so likewise in going to shew thee the progress of Poetry, I must not trace it back to its original: because be∣ing it is really the off-spring of Heaven, I cannot conduct thee to the place of its nativity. It suffi∣ces to tell thee, that 'tis the language of the gods, and that Love and Glory have brought it intouse amongst men; That without it the Heroes would dye unrewarded, that their names would perish soon after them; that Lovers would sigh with∣out pleasure, that the art for one to render her himself immortal, by immortalizing others, would be unknown in the World. In the next place, look upon all Greece, as the first place where∣in Poetry began to be celebrated, and from whence it shall pass successively to the other parts of the World. Dost thou not see a Woman of a goodly aspect, at the gate of the Temple of Delphos? 'tis Phemonoe, the first Prophetess of that Temple; who invented the handsomest form of Verses; For by a priviledge granted to Women, it may be affirmed that they have more share in poetry than men, since if they do not make Verses themselves, yet at least they inspire others with the desire of making them. Dost thou not see near her, that young man that plays upon the Harp? 'tis the famous Amphion, who added three strings to that instrument, to make them up seven, there having been but four before. It is also reported, that the stones, drawn by his harmony, ranked themselves one upon an∣other, to build the Walls of Thebes: but the truth is, he became of such reputation among the The∣bans, that he easily perswaded them to inclose their City. Look a little towards the right hand, and thou wilt see a venerable man: 'tis the most antient of three Poets, who bear or will bear the name Linus, and the first whom Apollo taught the measures and numbers of Verse. He writ a Poem concerning the World, which got him such ho∣nor, that some have not stuck to call him the Son of Apollo; and indeed his name will be always ce∣lebrated by the Geek Poets, who will make Hymns upon his death, and particularly by the famous Sappho of Mytilene, whom I shall by and by shew you.

In the mean time, look upon him who appears so handsome, and so sad; 'tis Orpheus, from whom thou art descended, who was able to charm Hell, and recover Euridice from the shades of death, by the power of this melodie, and who not being able to contain one moment from look∣ing upon that beloved person, lost her again for ever. This excellent Poet has composed thirty nine Poems, but time shall bereave posterity of them, excepting one Book of Hymns to the gods. and a Treatise of precious Stones, of which some fragments shall remain preserv'd from age to age and it shall be known in general, that he lov'd to treat of grave Subjects, as of the World, the Stars, and Morality.

He that thou seest behind him is Musaeus, to whom Orpheus addressed several of his Works, and left his Harp at his death; 'tis he that made the handsome Poem of Leander and Hero; although in process of time, some will go about to ascribe it to another Musaeus.

Then take notice of Melesigenes, who is thy kinsman, and whom thou must overcome at Chal∣cis. I shall say nothing to thee of his lineage, and the place where he was born; for thou knowest it well; but I shall assure thee, that he shall be so famous, that in future ages, seven Cities shall con∣tend for the honor of having him their Native; namely Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, and Athens. He shall be indigent of the goods of Fortune, but rich in the gifts of the mind. He shall make several voyages, and shall be almost continually unhappy. He shall lay aside the name of Melesigines, and take upon him that of Homer, because he shall become blind. After this accident, he shall become so poor, that he shall be constrain'd for a long time to beg alms. Yet he shall find cha∣ritable friends to assist him, and the gods themselves shall do a miracle for his sake; for the Seamen re∣fusing to take him into their Vessel to go to Chios, shall be overtaken with so great a storm, that, ima∣gining it befallen them, because they refus'd Ho∣mer, they shall return to the shore to take him in, and afterwards make a happy voyage. But at length Homer shall become a little more happy; he shall marry, and have two Daughters, and then it shall be, that he shall compose one Work, which he shall intitle Odysseus, and another, Ilias. The latter of which shall be more admir'd than the for∣mer, in the first ages which shall follow him; but in after-times, they shall be judg'd of quite con∣trary: but in truth, they shall both be worthy of the highest applauses. Homer in acknowledgement to those, by whom he shall be assisted, shall intro∣duce them in his Works, to the end to immor∣talize their Virtue. For Phennius his Father-in-law, and his first Master, shall find a place in the Odysse∣us; Mentor shall be highly celebrated there; he shall also speak advantageously of Mentes, and shall not forget a plain Mechanick, who shall entertain him for some time at his house; and thus he shall give an heroical testimony of acknowledgement, in an age that shall be ungrateful to his Virtue. But posterity shall at least render justice to his merit, and acknowledge him to have been Master of a grand and prodigious genius, with a natural, facile, and delightful style. He it is, that shall invent to be∣gin a History in the middle, to the end, to suspend the minds of the Readers, and give them a kind of pleasing inquietude; it shall be he that shall in∣troduce that admirable diversity of styles, in which he shall never be surpass'd by any; he shall be ad∣mir'd by the most eminent wits of Greece, and ac∣knowledg'd in all ages for a Poet, worthy to be imitated in every respect by all others.

Judge then what glory will befall to you, in overcoming a man, whose name shall be famous, as long as Reason shall be amongst men.

Hitherto I have told you of the past and the pre∣sent; I must begin with the amorous Mimnermus, to discover the future to you. Do not you per∣ceive by his air and his aspect, that he will be able to sing of nothing but Love? 'Tis he that shall in∣vent the way of the bewailing Elegie for the fair Nanno his Mistress, who, by the sweetness of her voice, shall inspire him with the sweetness of his Verse: Nevertheless, the Works of this excellent man shall perish, and not live among those of o∣thers; but yet there shall be enough to judge, that he must needs have been a most delicate and amo∣rous wit.

After this, Hesiode believ'd he saw only all Pelo∣ponnesus, the Sea that encompasses it, and particu∣larly the Cape of Taenarus, and upon that Sea, not far from the Cape, a comely person carried upon the back of a Dolphin, playing upon an Harp, and looking sometimes towards the shore, and some∣times towards Heaven, as if he thanked the gods for some favor. After which, Calliope beginning again to speak, He that thou feest, said she, is the famous Arion, who shall invent the manner of Tra∣gick Verses, and the introducing of a Chorus; he shall be ready to be slain by the mariners of a ship, out of intent to possess his Money; but having ob∣tain'd permission to sing some Verses to his Harp, he shall do it so well, that the melody of his Song shall draw several Dolphins about the ship; upon which, Arion abandoning himself to them, shall leap into the Sea, and be receiv'd by one of those Dolphins, who shall carry him to the shore; and thus he shall find more humanity amongst Fishes, than amongst Men.

Then all these objects passing away, Hesiode be∣held an Island, and upon the top of a Rock, a brown Woman of indifferent stature and beauty; yet she had quick and sprightly eyes, and was of a very comely shape: she that thou feest, said Calliope then to Hesiode, is the famous Sappho of Mytilene, who shall be celebrated throughout all ages, for the handsomness of her Verses, especially for a certain passionate and amorous style, which shall be almost inimitable. She shall invent the use of the Bow be∣longing to the Harp, which shall highly advantage the sound of it; she shall love a disloyal person, which shall be the cause of her death; but though almost all her works shall perish, yet her name shall live eternally; she shall be styled the tenth Muse, and in all Ages new Honors shall be ascrib'd to her.

But there is enough spoken, concerning this Illustrious Lesbian; therefore behold Alcaeus, who shall live at the same time; do not you see he has the aspect of a man of quality? his birth shall be very noble; he shall command the Armies of Myti∣tilene, with his Brother Antimenides: but one of the seven Sages of Greece named Pittacus, shall pos∣sess himself of the Tyranny, and eject them; so that Alcaeus, an excellent Lyrick Poet, being in∣censed in mind, shall begin to write against him, and in general, against Tyranny and Tyrants, and make Verses, which shall be accounted seditious. His works shall be grave, and strong; he shall sometimes descend to Mirth and Love, and suc∣ceed very well therein, although more excellent for other things. He shall have so passionate a soul, that he shall desire to immortalize a little mark the person he shall love, shall have upon her foot; but he shall have the unhappiness to fall into the hands of Pittacus, who contenting himself with the power to be reveng'd, shall send him back again without harm, and by that handsome action, con∣firm to himself the prerogative of bearing the glo∣rious title of Wise.

After this, Hesiode beheld Alcaeus no more; but saw a man disguis'd with a vizard in a Chariot, who went to and fro in the middle of a spacious place in Athens, encompas'd with the people. He that thou feest, said Calliope, is Thespis, who shall himself act the Tragedies which he shall compose, and shall be famous for this sort of Works.

But then, Dost not thou see a man, who has a countenance sufficiently cheerful? 'tis Epicharmus, who shall be born in Sicily, and be the first inven∣tor of Comedies, which shall perish by time, after having serv'd for a pattern to those that shall follow.

In the next place, behold two Poets with grave looks, marching together; one of them is Theog∣nis, who rejecting Poetical fictions, shall write Precepts of Morality in Verse. Yet he shall some∣times intermingle Love in his Works, and that with some freedom. The other is Phocilydes of Miletum, something more serious, who shall write of moral matters full of instruction, and draw the greatest part of his Sentences from the Books of certain Women who shall be called Sybyls, he shall be imitated one day by a French Poet, whose Verses shall for a long time be the first. Lessons of Virtue for the young children of his own Nation. They shall both begin their Works in recommend∣ing the worshiping of the Divine Power, the ho∣nour of Parents, and judging with Justice, and fear of another Judgement, which attends both the good and the wicked. Then behold a man of a very comly person, but blind! 'tis Stesi∣chorus of Sicily, a Lyrick Poet, who shall come near to the grandeur of Homer. 'Tis true, he shall be condemn'd for being too abundant; but there shall remain nothing of him besides his reputation. While he shall be yet in the cradle, a Nightingale shall sit and sing upon his mouth; he shall lose his sight for having spoken ill of Helene, but recover it again by making a Work in her praise, which he shall call a Palinode or Recantation. But after ha∣ving shewn thee Stesichorus alone, I must also shew thee him in company; dost not thou see eight Men and a Woman? they are the nine Lyrick Poets, who shall be put together in resemblance of the nine Muses. The first without comparison, shall be Pindar, of whom I shall tell thee afterwards: and thou mayst see the rest about her, who are Simonides, Stesichorus, Ibycus, Alcman, Bachylides, Anacreon, Alcaeus, and Sappho, who shall likewise be call'd the tenth Muse, as I told thee before.

But to speak at present only of Pindar, when he shall be in the cradle, the Bees shall make Ho∣ney upon his mouth. Dost thou not see that he is separated from the rest that environ him, and that he has none near him but a fair Virgin, with a Crown upon her head? 'tis Corinna, who shall have the glory of surpassing him five times pub∣lickly, and gain the prize for making better Ver∣ses than he. Nevertheless, he shall be a Poet of the first Order, in the judgement of the greatest Poets, that shall follow him. He shall be so sub∣lime, that it shall be hard to follow him; his style shall be lofty, pure, and chaste, and truly worthy to entertain Kings and Princes. He shall love chiefly to sing the praises of those who shall have been Victors in the Olympick Games; However, as I mention'd before, Corinna shall overcome him five times:: Some shall say, the reason shall be, for that being very handsome, her Verses shall thereby seem so much the more amiable,; others that making use of the Aeolian Dialect, and Pindar of the Dorick, which shall not be so elegant, this shall give her the advantage. But to discover a truth to thee which shall never be known to any other, he shall be amorous of her, and therefore take pleasure to suffer himself to be overcome by her: Not but that this Woman must be so admi∣rable for her Verses, that the Tanagrians shall e∣rect a Statue to her: she shall also give profitable councel to Pindar, for as he shall one day be boast∣ing of himself in her presence, she shall pleasant∣ly mock him, and tell him that he knows not how to make any thing, since he knows not how to feign; maintaining peremptorily, that fiction is necessary to handsom Poetry. Pindar afterwards endeavouring to improve this admonition, shall offer her a work wholly fill'd with fictions connect∣ed together; but this fair Virgin deriding him a∣gain ingeniously, and beholding him with a mock∣ing smile shall tell him, they ought to be inter∣spers'd with judgement, and not cast in by hand∣fuls as he has done. And accordingly, Pindar shall so well profit by her Counsel, that he shall become the wonder of his own age, and of those which shall come after him. The most famous Conque∣ror of the World, shall esteem him so highly, that having taken Thebes, he shall cause the house to be shewn him where Pindar dwelt, to secure it from being pillag'd, and shall preserve the goods of ano∣ther Pindar, only in respect to his name. He shall also be happy in dying; for after having requested of the gods, that which is sweetest in life, he shall have the advantage to dye without pain, sleeping upon the knees of a person whom he shall love, at the publick Shews. After which, a Statue shall be erected to him.

But in the next place, dost thou see a goodly person, well made, and of a comely stature, who has a Crown of Flowers upon his head, and a ve∣ry rich cup in his hand, who is near a Table well furnish'd, and encompass'd with people that are dancing? 'tis the famous Anacreon, the great pro∣tector of Joy and Feasts. Oh, I beseech you (interrupted Anacreon) let me see whether you have not craftily adjoyn'd me to so many Poets, that have appear'd to me as well as to Hesiode, since you began to read. Sincerely (answer'd Amilcar) I have made no alteration in translating this place, and I engage to let you see all I am going to read, in the Greek Original. Let Amilcar read on, (said Plotina) for perhaps we shall hear what you would be unwilling to tell us. Indeed (added Valeria) I have understood by Berelisa and Clidamira, that you will not relate any thing con∣cerning your Loves. 'Tis true (answer'd Ana∣creon) That I do not affect to tell my amorous ad∣ventures; and therefore I am loth to let Amilcar read this place; for I should not care to have Calliope discover to you all my secrets. Fear nothing (reply'd Amilcar) a Muse never speaks indiscreet∣ly; and the Translator is intelligent enough. Pro∣ceed then (said Anacreon) And accordingly Amil∣car began to read again in this manner, at the place where he had left off.

But in the next place, dost thou see a goodly per∣son, well made, and of a comely stature, who has

a crown of Flowers upon his head, and a very rich cup in his hand, who is near a Table well furnish'd, and encompass'd with people that are dancing? 'tis the famous Anacreon, the protector of Joy and Feasts. He shall have a jovial wit, gallant, deli∣cate and natural; his Odes shall last as long as the Empire of Letters shall endure; he shall invent a sort of Verses that shall bear his name; he shall make Elegies, he shall sing the Loves of Circe and Penelope, Lovers of Vlysses, but this Work shall perish, and he shall at length be one of the most famous Poets of all Greece; he shall love after all the ways, wherewith 'tis possible to Love; his principal Mistress shall be named—

Hold, I beseech you (interrupted Anacreon a∣gain) and do not name her. I must of necessi∣ty name her (answer'd Amilcar) for Plotina makes me a sign to continue my reading; which he did accordingly, thus,

His principle Mistress shall be named Euripile; posterity nevertheless shall believe, that he lov'd two other persons more ardently. He shall be very well belov'd by the Prince of Samos, called Poly∣crates, who shall one day give him two talents, but Anacreon shall restore them back two days after, and tell him (to refuse him without incivility) that he was two nights without sleep, for think∣ing how he should employ them, and that he will not be rewarded with a thing that affords nothing but anxious and inquiet cares. In his first youth, returning from a great Feast, he shall meet a Nurse holding a Child in her arms; whom he shall justle so rudely, that the provoked Woman shall pray the gods, that one day he may as much honor her Son whom he then despis'd; and ac∣cordingly, that child shall one day excite love in Anacreon. He shall invent a kind of Lyre with one and twenty strings; and he shall dye by an unexpected and inconsiderable accident, in the midst of a Feast, at the age of fourscore and five years, and shall enjoy after his death an immortal glory.

Whatever the accident be, (interrupted Anacreon) that shall occasion my death, in that age I think I have no great cause to be troubled at it: but whatever Calliope has spoken of it, I conceive I shall not do very ill, to take care always to keep my self from dying young. As for me (answer'd Plotina) I am not dispos'd to contradict you; for besides that in my judgement I apprehend you have reason, I have also a great desire that Amilcar continue his reading, both to let me know those who are to succeed, and to resolve me whether Rome is not likely to have a Poet famous enough, to deserve mentioning by Calliope. After which Amilcar pro∣ceeded in this manner. Seest thou that old man with the bald head, in the middle of a field, and above him a great Eagle, holding a Tortoise in her beak? 'tis Aeschylus the Athenian; he shall be the first that shall publish Tragedies; he shall add ve∣ry much to the ornaments of the Theater, and first establish that maxime, not to bloody the Scene. He shall compose fourscore and ten Tragedies, and shall overcome twenty eight times; but being grown very old, he shall be out-done by Sopholes in the spring of his youth; which shall be so grie∣vous to him, that he shall forsake Greece, and go into Sicily; He shall be sublime, grave, magnificent, in his expressions, sometimes even to excess, but often rude and impolish'd, Wherefore the Athe∣nians in following ages shall permit the Poets to correct the Tragedies of Aeschylus, and afterward make them pass for new, and obtain prizes with them. Nevertheless, that famous Lycurgus the Law-giver, shall so highly esteem his Works, and those of Sophocles; that he shall cause them to be kept in the publick Archiv's, and erect Statues of Brass to both of them. Aeschylus shall be threatned to be killed with a blow on the head; to avoid which unhappiness, he shall very much affect to walk much in the plain field; but the gods shall punish him for the boldness, to go about to resist destiny; for a great Eagle holding a Tortoise, and taking the bald head of Aeschylus for a stone, shall let the same fall upon him to break it; and thus seeking to avoid death, he shall find it, after ha∣ving had the grief to hear it reproach'd to him by the young Sophocles, that when he did well, he did not know for what reason he did so. In the next place, behold Sophocles the conqueror of Aeschylus, and many others: Dost thou not guess by his as∣pect, that he shall be inclin'd to Love? Theorida and Archippa shall be famous for having been his Mistresses, He shall be the greatest of Tragick Poets; his Works shall have an incomparable beau∣ty and elegance; all shall be exact in them, po∣lite, and accomplisht; they shall have both sweet∣ness and loftiness: Some shall go about to parallel him to Euripides, of whom I am to speak next; but the more sage opinions shall be for Sophocles. Some shall surname him the Bee, intimating that he shall take only the flower of things; others the Syrene, because he shall very much allure the minds of those that shall see his Works. In his ex∣tream old age, not thinking of ought but to ac∣quire glory, and neglecting his domestick affairs, one of his children shall accuse him of dotage, and go about to deprive him of the management of his estate; but he shall shew the Judges a very hand∣some piece, which he shall then be making; upon which the accuser shall be more in danger to be de∣clared a fool than the accused. He shall make six and twenty Tragedies, and shall overcome in twenty four; but at last he shall dye of joy, ha∣ving first overcome once in his decrepit age, and gotten the advantage to preserve all the excel∣lency of his wit to the last. For one telling him, Thou art unhappy, Sophocles, in being no longer capable of Love; he shall answer gallantly, I e∣steem my self happy for being escaped from his Ty∣ranny, as from that of a furious and insolent Ma∣ster.

But it is time to shew thee Euripides: dost thou not see a man encompass'd with several Soldiers 'tis he of whom I speak: he hath, as thou seest, a firce, melancholly and proud aspect; yet his birth shall not be great, and he shall be born in poverity; but he shall have boldness and fierceness. 'Tis true, his merit shall bear him out. In his first youth he shall overcome several times, in the pla∣ces where there shall be prizes for the exercises of the body. Afterwards, he shall make a great num∣ber of Tragedies, of which eight shall be Satyri∣cal. He shall overcome fifteen times, without any sign of Joy discernable in his eyes. Indeed Euri∣pides shall scarce ever laugh, and it shall not be known whether he loves or hates Women, so uniform shall he appear in all his actions. Yet

Sophocles shall reproach him not to hate them, but in the Theater. The people shall one day pray him to change a Verse; but he shall answer, That he writ to teach the people, and not to be taught by them. He shall sometimes take pains with diffi∣culty, and a Poet shall reproach to him, that he made but three Verses in three days. I acknow∣ledge it, shall he answer, and you have made a hundred; but your hundred Verses shall not last three days, and my three Verses shall last not only three hundred years, but even to eternity. In ef∣fect, Euripides shall have so great a reputation, that after the Athenians shall have been overcome un∣der Nicias and Gilippus, the Sicilians, who shall be the Victors, shall spare the lives of several prison∣ers only because they shall know of the Verses of Euripides, wherewith they shall be so charm'd, that they shall cause them to be continually recited, to the end to learn them, and give the like liberty to those from whom they shall have learnt them. There shall be some also that shall stay in Sicily, and enrich themselves by reciting those Verses which all the World shall admire. But as for the others, who shall return to Athens, thou seest them at his feet, to thank his as their Deliverer, and leave him wholly surpris'd with this glorious adventure. He shall have the honor to be a great friend to Socrates, who shall, for the time to come, be the pattern to all the Sages; and he shall also have the generosity to give him testimonies of his amity after his death. But at length Euripides shall have the unhappiness to discover that his wife shall be unfaithful to him, and love a Comedian; upon which, fearing the mockery of the Comick Poets, he shall forsake his Countrey, and go into Macedonia, where he shall be in favour with the King Archelaus. During his being there, one of those Poets who never make Verses but to beg, and of which kind there shall always be some in the Courts of Princes, shall request something of con∣siderable value of the King of Macedonia; but this Prince being ingenious both to refuse and give, shall command that to be given to Euripides, which the other desired of him; for (shall he say to this importunate person) you deserve to ask without receiving, and Euripides deserves to receive without asking. But at last Euripides shall die miserably; for he shall be torn to pieces by the dogs of that King at a famous hunting. The peo∣ple shall say, the cause of it was because he inter∣ceded for a man who had slain one of those dogs; but the true reason shall be, for that the King scarce minding his hunting any longer, and being almost continually in discourse with Euripides, jealousie and hatred shall both enter into their hearts; so that finding him one day wandring a∣lone, they shall tear him to pieces; and thus shall the famous Euripides die, whom many judicious persons shall scarce dare to place above Sophocles.

But after having seen this illustrious Poet, fix thy eyes a while upon a very little man, who stands there on one side: he is a Poet, and nam'd Phile∣tas; he shall make Elegies full of very handsome fancy. He shall be so lean, so little, and so light, that the people shall report he always carries lead about him, for fear the wind should carry him a∣way. He shall have a Mistriss named Batthis, and shall dye through grief, for not being able to re∣solve the argument of a Sophister.

He that thou seest in the next place, is the in∣comparable Menander, whose glory shall be im∣mortal; he is the man that shall refine Comedies, who shall take away the insolent satyre from them, and banish all that encounters modesty. He shall have an inclination extraordinarily amorous; for which reason there shall be much true modesty in his works, He shall apprehend perfectly, that a handsome Comedy ought to be a description, or picture of the World, and the passions ordinary to all men; for no Poet shall goe beyond him in skill, and exact observation of manners, customs, passi∣ons, and inclinations of each particular of man∣kind. There shall be other Comick Poets after him, who shall confound all his different stiles, and with∣out observing all those varieties which are so ne∣cessary to these kind of Pictures, they shall make Kings and Slaves speak after the same manner, and confound the Tragick style with the Comick. These cannot without injustice be equall'd to Me∣nander, who shall be gallant and polite throughout, who shall have nothing but what either instructs or diverts. Whence there shall be in the sequel of time, a most grave and famous Author, who shall prefer Menander a thousand degrees above him, that shall be the most excellent amongst all others: Menander shall be accus'd by one nam'd Cratinus, to be sufficiently addicted to play the plagiary in Authors that preceded him; but this Cratinus shall be one of those dangerous sons of Envy, of which there shall always be some, as long as there are persons of virtue: that is one of those malici∣ous criticks, who seek not to instruct their age they live in, but only to injure those they see more esteem'd than themselves. Menander shall compose an hundred and nine Comedies, and shall be Victor only in eight; but posterity shall do him the justice to believe, that it was by reason of the factions of his Envyers. He shall be Disciple to Theophrastus, a great friend to Demetreus Phalereus; and so esteem'd by the Kings of Aegypt and Mace∣donia, that they shall send a Fleet and Ambassadors to him, to oblige him to come to them. But, in fine, being yet in the flower of his age, he shall be drown'd as he is swimming in the Port of Piraeus.

Look upon him that I shew thee next; he shall be named Philemon, and shall overcome Menander several times, rather through good fortune than merit, though there will be handsome fancies in several places of his Works: but Menander speak∣ing to him of his victories, shall smilingly say to him, Art not thou asham'd to have overcome me? He is destinated to die with laughter, at the sight of some uncouth spectacle; he shall live fourscore and seventeen years, and shall make fourscore and ten Comedies.

He that thou seest upon that great Theater, and whom such a croud of people attentively listen to, is Aristophanes; he shall be of low birth, and yet of great reputation, and taking to himself a mid∣dle way between the excessive licentiousness of an∣tient Comedy, and the regularity of the New, he shall please the generality of people. His style shall be sharp, subtle, elegant, full of ingenious setches and railleries; but he shall not scruple to offend the fancy of the virtuous sort of people, so that he may but give divertisement to the multi∣tude. He shall be extraordinarity bold in speaking

against all the World; insomuch that he shall make a Comedy against a Tribune of the people where∣in he shall speak so sharply, that no Comedian will venture to act that part; whereupon being led by his Satyrical inclination, he shall act it him∣self, and for that reason be condemned to pay a great Fine. That which shall blot the reputation of Aristophanes, is, that he shall be an enemy to So∣crates, and make a Comedy against him; but on the other side, he shall have the honor to have his Epitaph made by a great Philosopher, after a glori∣ous manner; which shall serve one day for a do∣cument to the World, that all great men are not always of the same judgement, since another great Author speaking of Aristophanes, shall say that in his works the Tragick and Comick style are con∣founded together, the high and the low, the sub∣lime and the familiar, very many superfluous words, cold railleries, and impudence diffus'd throughout. He that thou seest next is Lycophron, an Author famous for his obscurity. He shall be of the number of those seven Tragick Poets, who shall compose the Pleiades, and he shall be ingeni∣ously compar'd to a certain obscure Star, which is in that constellation. He shall be born in the City of Chalcis in Eubaea, and shall be slain with the shot of an arrow.

Now take notice of that man who goes forth of a Temple, and seems to be in amazement; 'tis Callimachus the Cyrenian, who shall make Elegies, Epigrams, and other Works, with sufficient ap∣probation. He shall make one among the rest that shall live a long time, of which I will tell thee the subject, to the end thou mayst understand, Poets may sometimes have boldness which lead them out of the common road, provided they be manag'd with judgement. Berenice, Queen of Aegypt, seeing Ptolomy her Husband going to the War, shall devote her hair, which shall be very graceful, to Venus, in case he return victorious: af∣ter which, this Prince coming home Conqueror, Berenice shall cut off her hair, and carry it her self to the Temple of Venus, where it shall not be found the next morning. A famous Astrologer who shall desire to court that Queen, shall profess that he saw it in the Heavens, and that it makes a new Con∣stellation there. And indeed having really disco∣ver'd one that he had never seen till then, it shall for ever after be call'd, The hair of Berenice: This is the subject of Gallimachus's Poem, wherein ma∣king use of the boldness permitted to great Poets, he shall introduce the hair of Berenice speaking, to the end it may appear, there is nothing which an excellent Poet cannot make to speak becommingly.

The next thou seest is Aratus, who shall be born in the City of Soli in Silicia; he shall not be very learn'd in Astrologie, and shall nevertheless make a very handsome Poem concerning the Stars and their courses: He shall also compose another very elegant work, and posterity shall judge of it by the merit of those who shall translate it; for the first shall be the Father of Latine Eloquence, who shall be named Cicero; the second shall be a Prince of high accomplishments, who shall be call'd Ger∣manicus; the third a very amorous Poet, whose name shall be Ovid; and the fourth a man of prin∣cipal quality call'd Ruffus Avienus; so that I assure thee no other work shall ever light upon more no∣ble Interpreters.

Then turn thine eyes upon the admirable The∣ocritus; he shall be born in Syracuse, and shall make Elegies, which shall acquire him immortal glory; he shall speak ill of Hiero, the Tyrant of his Coun∣trey, who shall pardon him the first time; but as Poets do not easily hold their peace, the second time the Tyrant shall put him to death, and there shall remain no more of Theocritus but his Works, and his fair reputation.

He that thou seest next him, is Moschus, a Po∣et of the same strain, who shall have a gallant and delicate wit. He shall make an Idyllium upon Run∣away Cupid, which shall be imitated in all Lan∣guages (so gallant shall the invention of it seem) and happily express'd in few Verses.

Those two Men whom thou seest together, are the two Parthenii, of whose Writings nothing shall remain, and of whom I shall speak by and by, when I come to speak of Virgil and Ovid.

Lastly (Hesiode) behold the last famous Poet a∣mong the Greeks; he shall be of Cilicia, of the City of Anazarba; he shall be called Oppian, and shall be son of one of the principal Citizens, named Agesilaus, who after having govern'd a long time, shall addict himself entirely to Philosophy, to the end to instruct his Son therein The Emperor Severus passing through this place, neither Oppi∣an nor Agesilaus, shall go to salute him; which the Emperor taking ill, shall banish them into an Island almost desart at that time, which in the revolution of ages shall be inhabited, by people very coura∣geous, and of a most noble race. During this ex∣ile, Oppian shall compose five Books concerning Fishing, and six concerning Hunting; he shall de∣dicate his Work to Antoninus, son of Severus, who not only shall recall him from exile, but being charm'd with his Verses, shall recompence each of them with a piece of Gold; whereupon thence∣forth they shall be called, The Golden Verses of Oppian. Besides that, they shall be worthy of that Title, only in respect of their Elegance. After this, he shall return into his own Countrey, and die there at the age of thirty years; his Citi∣zens shall erect a Statue to him, and inscribe an Epi∣taph upon his Tomb, which shall intimate, that the gods caus'd his death out of envy; because, if he had liv'd long, he would have surpass'd all mortals.

Thus Hesiode, thou seest who shall be thy succes∣sors in Greece; but if Poetry die amongst the Greeks, 'tis only to revive again among the Romans, who shall learn it of them. So that thou shalt not be less the Father of the Latine, than of the Greek Poetry, and in what place soever Verses shall be made, the name of Hesiode shall be in esteem. No doubt thou art willing to have me tell thee, whether the Latine Poetry shall be able to surpass the Greek, which question shall be the subject of very great dispute. Yet let it suf∣fice thee to know, that the Romans shall take Poetry from the Greeks, and that the most curious Criticks amongst them, shall believe they do much, when they shall equal the Poets of their own Na∣tion, to those of the Greeks. They shall even of∣tentimes prefer them before them; because 'tis the custom of all men to be prejudic'd against their own age; and a very great Conqueror shall one day call a Poet, who shall be named Terence, but a half-Maenander, though that Terence must be one of the most perfect Latine Poets. However, I will tell thee, that the Greeks and the Romans shall on

either side have their peculiar excellencies and de∣fenders. The Greeks shall without doubt have the glory of invention, and withal a certain kind of greater sprightliness and pleasantness, and be more proper for divertisement. But otherwise, they shall be less exact, more diffuse and prolix, more subject to speak things unprofitable, attribu∣ting less to Art than to Nature. The Romans shall render Poetry more solid and more judicious, their Works shall have more Rule and Art, and consequently some kind of less licentiousness: and there shall come another time, wherein Poetry be∣ing become French, shall seem, in growing old, to have taken yet more severity, than the Greek or the Latine; for it shall indulge fewer things to it self than the rest; and withal, it shall very rare∣ly have any of their graces and elegancies. In the mean time, to tell thee concerning Latine Poetry in particular, and to let thee see that famous Poe∣tick Genealogie, which I have promised thee, I must—

I beseech you (said Plotina then to Amilcar) suffer me to interrupt your reading, to tell you that I die with desire, not only that the Latine Poets may surpass the Greek in the excellency of their Verses, but likewise in riches and good for∣tune; for I have so much pitty to see some of those great Poets poor, that I should be infinite∣ly troubled, that that should one day be reproacht to the Romans, which I reproach to the Greeks. And moreover, to speak truth, I know not how it should come to pass, that many persons will willingly take upon them an employment of so little profit. If you please to consider (answer'd Herminius) how many people go to the War with little profit, you will not wonder at the number of those that addict themselves to make Verses? although Poetry very rarely improves the fortunes, but is rather prejudicial to them; for this employ∣ment is of less danger, and greater pleasure. You have reason (reply'd Amilcar) and besides, the greatest part of those that addict themselves to make Verses, are born Poets, and cannot hinder themselves from being such. But yet I would know (said Plotina) why Poverty always follows Poetry: The reason is (answer'd Amilcar) because great men are either ignorant or covetous. For my part (added Plotina) I look upon it as a just punish∣ment inflicted by the gods, for that the most part of Poets, as I have heard, oftentimes give a thou∣sand praises to people that deserve them not; and for that they sacrifice rather to Fortune, than to Virtue. But however, I conceive it fit to leave you to continue your story. Accordingly Amilcar re∣sum'd the place where he stopt. But it is time to make thee change thy object.

Therefore lift up thine eyes and see proud Italy (such as she shall be one day, when she comes to be Mistress of the World) in the same place where thou sawest all Greece.

But, to arrest thy sight to one single object, look upon that man with a severe countenance; 'tis Livius Andronicus, who shall write Tragedies, of which in time, nothing shall be left but some fra∣gments, which shall give posterity to know, that he had a kind of driness and rudeness in his Wit.

In the next place take notice of Ennius, and thou wilt observe by his aspect, that he will one day become a gallant man, and a lover of joy. He shall be a Native of Tarentum; he shall imagine him∣self to have the soul of Homer: he shall write the History of his own Countrey in Verse, and ma∣king his own Epitaph himself, he shall forbid all persons to lament him, because he lives still, and shall always live in the memory of men. Never∣theless his Works shall perish, and nothing be left of them but some fragments, which shall evidence that he was nervous, and of good invention.

Then fix thy sight ugon that man, whose attire is plain, and whom thou seest employ'd in turn∣ing about an Engine, which serves to make Meal, thou wouldst think he were able to make nothing worthy of immortality; yet he that thou seest, and who shall be called Plautus, shall write Come∣dies, which shall resist the depredation of time. He shall he born in Umbria, of low parentage; at first he shall sell his Comedies, afterwards he shall be∣come a Merchant, and undo himself; and then poverty pressing him very heavily, he shall serve in those matters thou seest him employ'd about, But while he is at this Trade, he shall compose some of his Works, and it shall be said one day of him, That if my companions and I were to speak La∣tine, we should speak like Plautus; though this Elogium be more sutable to Terence, whom thou shalt see by and by, whose style shall without doubt be more noble, and more pure Plautus shall princi∣pally propose to his imitation, Epicharmus and Aristophanes, two Greek Poets, whom I shew'd thee; his Comedies shall be full of Wit and plea∣sant Conceits, but not very modest. Indeed he shall better represent slaves, courtisans, and those of the baser sort of people, than honest persons; like some Painters, whose odd fancy is better at repre∣senting poor cripled and deformed soldiers, than Princes and Heroes. In process of time he shall seem something obscure, because he shall love to take the liberty of making extraordinary words, and employing those which are peculiar, to the eloquence of the vulgar. But however, there shall be handsome strains in his Works, and raillery shall be neatly couch'd in them.

Look next upon Statius Caecilius, a Gaul, he shall have the glory to be preferr'd by many, above all other Authors of the Theater; he shall be a great friend to Ennius, and so highly respected by Te∣rence, that he shall compose nothing but what he first exposes to his censure. Nevertheless, time shall not respect his Works; for there shall scarce any thing of time survive.

As for Accius Pacuvius whom thou seest there, there are not things enough to tell thee of him, to detain thy sight longer upon him.

But 'tis not so with that African whom I shew thee, for he merits to have all thy attention; 'tis that Terence I but now mention'd; he shall be born at Carthage, and bred up a slave at Rome, by Terentius Lucanus a Senator, who shall cause him to be educated with very much care, and set him at liberty when he comes beyond the years of Child∣hood. Terence shall take the famous Menander for his pattern, as Plautus took Epicharmus and Aristo∣phanes for his. He shall have a particular amity with all persons of eminent quality in Rome, espe∣cially with an illustrious man, named Scipio, and another called Laetius, who shall also assist him to compose his handsome Comedies; for they shall not be like those people of quality, who conceive

ignorance best becomes persons of condition, and that it is either shameful or unprofitable to be learn∣ed. There shall be nothing so pure, noble and de∣licate; as his Writings; nothing that can better express the manners and genius of persons of all sorts. His Comedies shall seem better at the hun∣dredth time's reading, than at the first; and they shall be the delight of all those that have an exqui∣site gust; yet only six of them shall be transmitted to posterity, which also shall be for the most part imi∣tated from Menander, who shall be his great Ori∣ginal; nevertheless, they shall not favour of the constraint or lowness of imitators, but they shall be as so many Master-pieces. He shall dye with sorrow, as he returns from Greece to Rome, for ha∣ving lost by shipwrack, an hundred and eight Co∣medies which he had made, and some incompara∣ble Satyrs.

He that thou seest next, is Caius Lucilius, who shall be a person of very great honesty; and so it shall be out of a sentiment of Virtue, that he will compose Satyrs. There shall be something ex∣treamly divertising in his Writings, but much in∣equality shall always attend them. 'Tis true, his defects shall not be long reproacht to him; for his works shall perish, as well as those of Turpilius and Africanus, two Comick Poets, whom thou mayst see standing on his right hand.

But the same fate shall not attend Lucretius: Look upon him as a Poet of an admirable genius, yet he shall have something of rudeness and im∣politeness in several places: but the fault of the age he shall live in, and the quality of his argu∣ment, shall be the cause of it. In some excellent places, and in his poetical digressions, it shall be as much as the greatest Poet of the world shall be able to do to surpass him. He shall die mad, by occasion of being too much beloved; for a Mi∣stress whom he shall love, thinking her self not sufficiently loved by him, shall give him a water to drink, which shall cause his death, in stead of augmenting his love.

In the next place take notice of Lucius Pom∣ponius, who shall invent a new sort of Comedies, called Atellanae, see also near him a man that has a cheerful and sufficiently ridiculous countenance, 'tis Laberius the Author of the Mimicks, that is, of a kind of sportful Comedy, set forth in gestures and postures.

See then a man of quality, named Quintus Catu∣lus, he shall make two Epigrams, which shall pass happily to the latter ages, though all his other Verses perish, and there shall be one of those Epigrams, which shall one day give oc∣casion to the composition of several little works, which shall bear the title of The fair House-wife.

After him, behold several mean Poets in a crowd, and amongst the rest Publius Syrus a slave, freed for his Wits sake, who shall surpass all others in the Mimicks, and Laberius himself that invented them: but I hasten to shew thee the famous Catul∣lus.

Observe him therefore as one of the most gal∣lant and elegant Latine Poets; but see near him also the fair Lesbia his Mistress, who shall be re∣ported to assist him in the composition of his verses.

Catullus shall be born at Verona, and be univer∣sally esteemed; his Epigrams shall be divine, al∣though they be not always piquant, as those of Martial, whom thou shalt see by and by, but they shall have an admirable gracefulness, both for the manner and for the expressions. He shall look up∣on Callimachus as one of his originals, and shall translate that work concerning Berenice's hair which I told thee of: In brief, his Epigrams shall be of an extream sweet strain, and of so peculiar a gal∣lantry and politeness, that none shall be able to equal him. He shall make several against the chief man of his times, and the master of his Countrey, under the name of Mamuna, but that great man shall not revenge himself, but favor him as for∣merly, because he shall have more esteem for his works, than indignation against his person, he shall die at thirty years of age, but his glory shall be out of the reach of Fate.

Now redouble thy attention Hesiode, for I am going to shew thee the greatest and most excellent of Latine Poets. Dost thou not perceive a house sufficiently rustical, before the door of which are all conveniences requisite for the making of earth∣en vessels? and dost thou not see at a little distance from thence, a great Poplar, which surpasses all those round about it; 'tis the birth-place of the great Virgil, whom thou mayst see musing along a meadow; as he shall do one day when he shall compose some of his Eclogues. He shall be the Son of a Potter, near a City that shall be called Mantua; his Mother shall dream that she shall bring forth a Lawrel, which she shall see grow to infinity; being delivered, she shall plant a sprig of poplar according to the custom, which shall in a little time become a great Tree, surpas∣sing all those of the Countrey, and which af∣terwards shall be lookt upon by the people with ve∣neration, and named Virgil's tree. This excel∣lent man shall addict himself to the study of Na∣tural Philosophy, the Mathematicks, and Physick, which he shall choose for his profession, and where∣in he shall excell. Afterwards by his great worth, he shall acquire the friendship of a great Emperor, named Augustus, and of his Favorite, the fa∣mous Mecaenas, our love and delight. He shall never offend any person, and never shew the least token of vanity, though Poets in general will be suffici∣ently subject to this defect. He shall have mo∣desty in perfection; and in brief, shall be a real honest person, as well amiable for his virtue, and for his manners, as admirable for his wit. He shall compose Eclogues in imitation of Theocritus, which shall be infinitely charming; thou shalt have the same glory of being imitated by him, when he shall compose a work, which he shall in∣title Georgicks; and which amongst the great Masters, shall pass for his Masterpiece: it being certain, that in respect of art and verity, it shall transcend all other things whatsoever; though very many persons, and those judicious too, shall wish rather to have been authors of his Eclogues, or some book of his Aenaeis, for 'tis indeed a great glory, to be exact and accomplisht throughout, but 'tis a greater in Poetry to effect, to charm, and to ravish. He shall imitate Homer in his Aenaeis, and the advantage shall be attributed to him, for having far surpassed him, as well as Theocritus, in the things wherein he shall have imitated him. But though Homer be less regular than

Virgil shall be, yet he shall not fail to have his graces; for he shall be more divertising and less severe, and shall abound much in different styles, of which Virgil shall be wholly unfurnished. But in brief, it shall be said to the praise of Virgil, That never man had with an extream handsome genius, and great stock of wit, so excellent a judgement, nor knew so perfectly as he, how far 'tis fit to go in Poetry. and where to stop. But in the mid∣dle of his glory he shall dye at Brundusium, whither he shall go to salute Augustus at his return from the East. At his death he shall command his Aenaeis to be burnt, not being able to resolve to leave it imperfect to posterity; but Tucca and Varus, his friends, assuring him that Augustus will never per∣mit it, he shall consent that it be preserved, on condition that 'it be published according as he shall leave it, without changing any thing in it, not even so much as some Verses, which shall be but half made. But to render him as glorious after his death, as he shall be during his life, Augustus shall make excellent Verses against that unjust clause of his Testament. Judge then Hesiode, what glory attends thee, being able one day to count Augustus and Virgil amongst thy descen∣dents.

But this is not all yet; for behold him that ap∣pears there, 'tis Horace, whose name shall seem to be fatal to extraordinary men; he that thou seest shall be, without scruple, the most gallant of all the Latine Poets; his Father shall be a native of a village of Apulia, and a Son of a freed man, but for that he shall have a mind above his condi∣tion, he shall educate his son with as much care, as Princes ought to bring up their own Children. Horace shall have a particular friendship with Me∣caenas, and likewise with Augustus, who desiring to make use of him for his Letters which he shall write to his friends, shall see himself refused by him without being offended Horace shall have as much wealth as he shall desire; and he shall say one day, to the glory of Mecoenas, and his own, I have as much as I need, and if I desired more, you would not refuse it me. Horace shall be sufficiently cholerick, he shall have a voluptuous soul, and be of the sect of Epicurus, which he shall disclaim at the end of his days, he shall love liberty above all things, and so shall pass his life absolutely free, and please himself chiefly in the Countrey, because there is greater freedome there than otherwhere. He shall make two sorts of works, his Odes which shall be perfectly di∣vine, and his Satyrs, which shall be incomparable not to mention a discourse of competent length, concerning the art of Poetry, wherein shall be ve∣ry excellent things. There shall be some Odes of Love, others of carowsing, and others perfectly grand and heroical, and all inimitable; so great freedome and facility of Wit shall be seen in them, happy boldness, gallant conceits, and above all, a choise of noble and natural expressions, which cannot be too highly valued. His works shall be throughout affecting, they shall surprise by their little constraint; for he shall pass from one sub∣ject to another, without scrupling to forsake any, where it seems good to him, and to go where he shall not be expected. As for his Sa∣tyrs, they shall contain the most exquisite and delicate morality, mingled with the most subtile and real raillery, and never shall any other so pleasantly deride vices, as he; nor so ingeniously render them ridiculous. Yet it shall be less impos∣sible (if I may so speak) to imitate him in his Sa∣tyrs than in his Odes. But to conclude, he shall die at the age of fifty seven years, after having acquired a glory which nothing can destroy.

After him, cast thy eyes upon Tibullus, a Ro∣man Knight, handsome, well made, and of a good port; he shall be rich and become poor; he shall have so amorous an inclination, that the multi∣tude of his loves shall proceed less from his incon∣stancy, than from his inclination to love. He shall chiefly celebrate in his Verses, four of his Mistresses, Delia, Sulpitia, Neara, and Nemesis. He shall have a particular amity with one of the eminentest persons of Rome, named Messala Cor∣vinus, and shall dye in a voyage that he shall make with him, after having had the glory to be the first Author of the Latine Elegy. The style of his Verses shall be amorous, soft, easie, clear, neat, and of extream sweetness and elegancy.

In the next place behold Propertius, an other Roman Knight, he shall imitate Callimachus, Mim∣nermus, and Philetas, whom I shewed thee before. Behold also near him, the fair Cyntbia his Mistress, who shall sometimes help him to make Verses, as Lesbia shall Catullus. His Elegies shall be so hand∣some, that though the best Judges shall prefer Tibullus before him, yet others shall be of the con∣trary opinion. There shall be more wit, more conceits, and more amorous sentences in his Ver∣ses, but less passion, facility, and elegance.

Dost thou not see at the right hand of Propertius another Poet? 'tis Varus, who shall live at the same time. Horace, and all the rest of the same profession, shall celebrate him as a great Epique Poet, but there shall remain nothing of his but twelve or thirteen verses; so that one day his wri∣tings shall not be known, but by the commenda∣tions of others.

But it is time to shew thee the famous Ovid, a Roman Knight; dost thou not also see near him a very comely person? 'tis his wife, who shall be nam'd Perilla, and taught by him to make. Ver∣ses. He shall be born at Sulmo, the Metropilis of the Peligni in Italy, near the Marsi, he shall be at first designed by his father to the Law, and shall succeed well in it; but having all his life had a great inclination for Poetry, he shall re∣nounce that profession, and give himself wholly to the other. He shall be a particular friend to those of the highest quality in Rome, and of very delight∣ful conversation. He shall marry thrice; he shall divorce his two first Wives, and keep the third, which thou seest near him. He shall be banished by Augustus, for having made love to the Princess Julia his daughter, whose deportment shall be very disorderly; some shall believe the cause to have been for being amorous of Livia, wife of that Em∣peror; but the true reason shall be so concealed, that many different and improbable conjectures shall be made of it. The place of his exile shall be Pontus, a Province of Asia, near the Getes and the Sarmatians. He shall compose many works, the greatest of all which shall be his Metamorpho∣sis, which he shall imitate from the Greek of Par∣thenius, of the Island of Chios, as to the design on∣ly; for he shall much more amplify them; his stile

shall have much wit, facility, and copiousness, but more of native Ornament than Art. For the most part he shall abandon himself to his own genius, and not always allow himself the leisure to choose his conceits and expressions; but yet he shall be so extreamly amorous, so passionate, and full of wit, that he shall be accounted admirable through∣out all Ages. His Books of the Art of Loving, and the Remedies of Love, shall get him a great reputation. But it may be said, the Flower of Latine Poetry shall dye with him, for his suc∣cessors endeavoring to imitate his Wit, his copi∣ousness, his conceits and subtile fancies, shall leave the good way, and wander, so that insen∣sibly, after his days, the Latine Poetry shall begin to lose that sweetness and natural Majesty, which during so long time, rendered it admirable.

For behold that Spaniard with the fierce coun∣tenance thou seest appear there; 'tis Seneca the Tragedian; he shall have much wit, but he shall favor of the tumidness of his Nation: he shall be born at Corduba, and in process of time, some shall attribute part of his Works to a Philosopher of the same name, whose mind shall be of the same temper with his.

In the next place, behold Lucan, who shall be born in the ••••me City; he shall have many admi∣rers, but whose Work, to speak equitably, shall not be perfectly admirable saving in its pieces. He shall be justly accused for not making a conclusi∣on, and for flying always so high, that he can∣not be followed without weariness. He shall one day have a Translator among the Gaules, who shall get much glory by his traduction. His wife Palla Argentaria, shall make Verses as well as he, but at length an Emperor called Nero, shall put him to death, not so much for having conspired against the State, as to deliver himself from a Rival in Poetry whose Works shall be better re∣ceived by the people than his.

After him, see an imitator of Virgil, called Sta∣tius; and near him his wife Claudia, who shall be illustrious for her wit; she shall make Verses too, as well as that of Lucan. This Poet shall fall much short of Virgil, by endeavoring to sur∣pass him. In brief he shall be great and sublime, but most often inflated and obscure.

Then consider Silius Italicus, a Spanyard also so great an admirer of Virgil, that he shall reverence his Tomb. He shall write a Poem of Seventeen Books, concerning the War of the Carthaginians against the Romans; he shall be Consul of Rome, the year wherein the cruel Nero shall be slain.

So likewise Valerius Flaccus, who shall write of the Argonautes: but do not stay upon this sight; for though these must be good Poets, yet they shall not be of the same rank with the others thou hast seen.

But I am going to shew thee two that shall better deserve to detain thy view; they are Juve∣nal and Martial; for though they are not to have all the excellency of the Age of Augustus, yet they shall have the advantage to be the first in the style they shall choose.

See therefore Juvenal, who appears first; his Satyrs shall be less mirthful and delicate than those of Horace, but full of wit and life. Horace shall always laugh, and never be in choler; Ju∣venal shall frequently be inraged, and laugh more rarely. These two sorts of Satyrs shall divide the Wits, and there shall no doubt, be some very handsome things, and sometimes also very plea∣sant, in Juvenal. He shall live under Domitian, he shall be son of a Freed-man; but having in one of his Satyrs reflected upon one of the persons in favor, he shall be sent in Commission at the Age of fourscore years, to the farthest part of Aegypt, where he shall dye in a kind of exile.

But then behold Martial, who advances a fa∣mous Author of Epigrams, and who shall merit to be the first in his kind, Not but that the Epi∣grams of Catullus shall please more, because they shall be Epigrams throughout (as one day a great Man amongst the Gaules shall say) whereas those of Martial shall not be so but at the end: but in∣deed they shall be in a manner of two differing kinds. Catullus shall be full of elegancy, delicacy, and the neat raillerie of the better sort; Martial, on the other side, shall have a raillerie less polite, but quick, piquant, and subtle, and shall not want elegance in some places. That which shall be good in him shall be excellent, but there shall be several mean Epigrams amongst others, and several which shall appear flat in remoter Ages, because the dif∣ference of manners and custom shall cause their agreeableness not to be comprehended. Martial shall be born in Spain; he shall be a very gallant Man; and shall live under an Emperor whose name shall be Domitian.

Next to him I must shew thee a Poet named Per∣sius, although he is to precede Juvenal, under the reign of Claudius. His Works shall have re∣semblance with those of that famous Author; they shall be very highly esteemed of in his own days, but in more remote times he shall appear very obscure to the most Learned, yet he shall have this glory; that a person of high quality, great cou∣rage, and excellent Wit, after having been dan∣gerously wounded in War, in an occasion where∣in he shall signalize himself, having no other Book to divert him during his sickness but this, shall translate it admirably for his pleasure, and make a Copy which shall far transcend the original, though he must also make some things of his own incom∣parably more handsome. But in brief, after Mar∣tial, Poetry shall resemble nothing but old age, and decrepitude.

Yet there shall be under Theodosius one Claudian, who shall have a handsome facility. There shall al∣so be born in Gaul upon the bank of the Garoone, a Poet called Ausonius, who shall be Tutor to an Emperor, and afterwards Roman Consul, and shall compose things full of Wit and Learning. But after all, it may be said, that Latine Poetry shall dye together with the Language. 'Tis true, after this Language shall be no longer in use but among the Learned, there shall be Italian Poets in the Ages remote from that of Augustus, who shall cause Latine Poetry to flourish again miraculously. But since the multitude of Poets can never be found but amongst the living Languages, I must shew thee in the same Country, as it were another Na∣tion and another Scene for Poetry.

For my part (said Plotina then) I am highly plea∣sed with the Prediction of Calliope, and though I am sufficiently glad to be living at present, yet I think I should not be very sorry to be in the days of Augustus, to see the Poets rich then, and

great Lords worthy persons. Being I am not cer∣tain what I should be at that time, (answer'd Amilcar) 'tis as good to content my self with be∣ing what I am, and proceed with my reading. Which he continued thus,

Behold now, O Hesiode, the same Italy again, but imagine to thy self, that it has been over-run by an inundation of forreign Nations, that it has changed its government, manners, and language, that it has groaned for several ages under barba∣risme and ignorance, that it is now beginning a∣gain to understand good literature, and to remem∣ber its antient politeness. Thou seest there the first Italian Poet, who shall one day be famous; but consider him as a man, who shall choose a very dif∣ficult Subject to treat of in Verse, and express him∣self so obscurely, that he shall scarce be under∣stood by them of his own age. He shall be born in a City that shall be named Florence; he shall be known by the name of Dante, and have scarce any thing but Fiction in his Verses.

But now turn thy eyes upon that pleasant Val∣ley, bounded by a great rock, at the foot of which is a famous Fountain, which alone gives rise to a River, and which being six months high, and six months low, shall pass for one of the wonders of Nature. See on the right hand of this lovely vally (in which are seen an hundred Rivulets of li∣ving water and inartificial channels) a little Med∣dow, wherein is a man who appears very sad, and muses profoundly; 'tis Petrarch, who shall be born in the Town of Arezzo, He shall love a fair and virtuous Virgin, whose name shall be Laura, and shall have a very handsome house in Valchiusa; so shall the Valley thou seest, be one day called, because 'tis enclosed almost on every side. 'Tis he that shall give a perfect example of constant and honest Love; He shall love Laura both living and dead, and he shall preserve so much respect in his passion, that it shall be hard to conjecture, whether he were lov'd again or no, so full shall his Verses be of discretion. Nevertheless, they shall be ve∣ry amorous, and he shall compose more in lament∣ing the death of Laura, than in extolling her du∣ring her life. He shall love her one and twenty years with an equal ardour, and they shall both love with so great innocence, that the glory of their Love shall last, as long as that of Petrach's Verses, who shall have the honor to be the first of his Nation, that understood to speak handsomely of Love in Verse. He shall be as deformed as his Mistress shall be fair, but he shall have so hand∣some a Wit, a Heart so noble, and a Soul so vir∣tuous, that he shall be esteem'd by all the most con∣siderable persons of his time. Whereby he shall have many marks of honor during his life, and shall be crowned Poet with magnificence in the chief City of the World.

In the next place, behold Ferrara, a very fa∣mous City, and in the principal place of it a man who has an ingenious aspect; 'tis the famous Ari∣osto, who shall make very hansome Comedies and Satyrs; but above all a great Poem, so full of dif∣ferent inventions, that though he ought to be ac∣cus'd for being unequall'd, yet he shall not fail to be admirable in a thousand respects. For he shall have a certain kind of divertising variety, which shall charm his Readers. He shall have a Style ea∣sie, natural, and amorous, the negligence of which shall not hinder it's facility from being extreme delightful, and though regularity must sometimes be wanting in him, yet he shall please almost per∣petually. It were to be wish'd indeed, that he would retrench some places of his Works, which will not be modest enough, but there shall be se∣veral others, in which nothing shall be found want∣ing. His defects shall be his diffuseness, and ex∣cess of fancy, and a certain negligence which shall hinder him from rejecting some of his conceits and inventions. But to conclude, he shall be excel∣lent among the excellent of his own Nation.

But then turn thy view upon an illustrious and unfortunate person, lawful Heir of the glory of Homer and Virgil. He shall cause shame to the Prin∣ces of his own times; and he shall be the greatest honour of Italy for Poetry. 'Tis the famous Tasso I speak of, the greatest genius of his Nation, and one of the most judicious Poets of the World. Almost in his childhood he shall make an heroick Poem, extremely ingenious, and begin to give the World an essay of his abilities, for great Poe∣try. Afterwards he shall make another, the Fa∣ble of which shall be wonderful, and yet probable, and the styles of it various, agreeable, and natu∣ral; the texture of his Works shall have no con∣fusion, he shall relate things handsomely, he shall excite compassion and admiration, he shall be very amorous in several places, and shall sometimes ex∣press very much in few Words, though the lan∣guage in which he is to write, be not so proper for that purpose as the Latine. He shall first begin to introduce Shepheards upon the Theater, and shall make a Pastoral Comedy, which shall be the pat∣tern of all others, and a Master-piece which many shall imitate, but none ever equal: he shall also make several other commendable Works; but it sufficeth to tell thee only of the most famous. Tasso shall be born in a Town near a very fair City, which shall be called Naples, at that time; yet it shall one day befall him as it did Homer, that se∣veral places shall challenge to themselves the honor of his birth: he shall be of a race so illustrious, that his Ancestors shall have been Lords of a con∣siderable City; but his family being ruin'd, his Fa∣ther, whose name shall be Bernardo Tasso, shall de∣sire to addict him to employments of profit, and hinder him from following Poetry, though him∣self also should have a good faculty in Verse. But in brief, through many adventures Tasso shall go to Rome, afterwards to Ferrara, France, Mantua, and return back into his own Countrey, and then again into Ferrara; but into what place soever he goes, he shall find glory and poverty. Fortune shall begin to persecute him in Ferrara; Love shall be the principal cause of all his unhappinesses; for he shall be enamour'd on the Sister of his Master, and render the name of Leonora, famous by his passion and his Verse. Yet he shall conceal his Love as long as he is able, and amongst three Wo∣men of the same name endeavour to disguise the truth. He shall also fight, with heroical courage, against a man that shall have discover'd something of it; but at length he shall forsake Ferrara, and spend several years wandring and roaming about, without any subsistence. He shall be in prison, and have a fear to be poison'd; and at length see him∣self so unhappy, and overwhelmed with misfor∣tunes, that the very greatness of his mind shall

serve to render him more miserable, since it shall be one of the causes of the loss of his reason. He shall not have so much happiness as to be ignorant of his folly, and he shall have intervals of Reason, which shall let him know, that he is the most un∣happy of all men: however, he shall see his Vir∣tue respected, even by a Captain of Thieves, who having besieg'd a place without knowing of his being there, shall change his resolution as soon as he knows it, and deprive himself of a great boo∣ty, only for his sake; thus he shall be the object of all the World's admiration. In the mean time, the injustice of the great ones of his times, shall be detested by all honest people of the following ages, who shall judge it strange, that the greatest Wit of the World, and most illustrious person of his age, should live without being Master of so much as a poor Cottage of his own, to hide his un∣happiness, although he has been universally e∣steem'd, and liv'd in several of the greatest Courts of Europe. But this shall not be the last time, that this kind of injustice shall be seen amongst Gran∣dees, who, for the most part, are totally ignorant of the art of rewarding Virtue. But in fine, Tasso after having endur'd a thousand misfortunes, and fear'd all those that might possibly befall him, and so consequently undergone them, shall dye when he shall be ready to be crowned Poet at Rome, as Petrarch shall have been; but as for his glory, it shall never dye, and his Amynta shall come in time to be translated into the French, Spanish, English, High and Low German Languages.

But having now shewn thee Dante, Petrarch, Ariosto and Tasso, behold also Bembo, Caro, and Gua∣rini; the first shall have in admirable purity of style; the second a rare faculty of conceit in all his Verses; and the third shall have so much wit, that he shall be blam'd for it as an imperfection.

After these, behold four Poets, whose Poetry, though wholly of a different kind, shall deserve all the praise that can be given to things of that na∣ture namely, le Bernia, le Maure, le Molza, and le Caporale.

Next them, see there Tassone, who by a Poem ingeniously pleasant, shall merit high applause.

Behold also Marini, who with his multitude of Writings, shall astonish his Readers. See, in the next place, one Fulvio Testi, whose magnificence and purity shall have an air, both great and natural together, and who shall in a manner, revive the genius and style of Horace.

See likewise one Gratiani, who, by a great Poem, shall acquire much honor.

And then see several Italian Poets in a croud, which I do not name to thee, because I am im∣patiently desirous to shew thee a lovely Countrey, where my Companions and I, after having gone almost round the World, shall one day fix our residence.

'Tis France, Hesiode, I tell thee of; consider it as a place which must be our new Sanctuary.

But to let thee see the progress, Poetry shall make there, behold a man whose aspect is suffici∣ently uncouth, and his attire extraordinary; he shall be nam'd John de Meun, and shall compose a Work which shall bear a great vogue a long time; but he shall be rather inspir'd by his own capricious humour than by us.

Dost thou not see in the next place a Poet of quality? he shall live under a King that shall love the Muses, and who shall make four Verses upon the Tomb'of the fair Laura, Petrarch's Mistress. This Poet shall be named Melin de Saint Gelais; his aspect shall be sweet, simple, lively; and his pro∣fession shall oblige him to a particular modesty. Yet his humour shall be naturally inclin'd to a kind of raillery not very scrupulous: he shall have an ingenious and quick mind, and so near a subtilty that way, that it shall not be possible to be fore∣seen, and oftentimes it shall not be known what he aims at, till he has done speaking.

Then behold Marat with a grave coun∣tenance; no doubt thou wouldst take him for a person that were not fit for any thing but to teach morality. Nevertheless, no wit shall ever be more sportful than his. There shall be always good sense in his most foolish raillery, and pleasant passages in his most grave discourses. He shall be entertain'd in the service of the King, under whom Melin shall live. His style shall be sprightly, ea∣sie, natural, and divertising. This Poet shall have the honor to be imitated by all Poets that would be pleasant; and yet be always inimitable.

In the next place, behold the Prince of the French Poets; he shall be a goodly person of a handsome stature and aspect; he shall be call'd Ronsard; his descent shall be noble; he shall be highly esteem'd, and deserve it, in his own days; for he shall have a very great genius. He shall also be sufficiently learned; but being he shall be the first in France, that shall undertake to make hand∣some Verses, he shall not be able to give his Works the perfection necessary to assure him la∣sting praises. However, it shall always be known by some of his Hymns, that nature has been very liberal to him, and that he merited his reputation. His fortune shall not be bad, and he shall dye su∣perior to poverty.

But now behold Belleau, who shall not be with∣out merit; he shall be one of the most eminent of seven Poets of the same knot, who shall be cal∣led the Pleiades, after the example of those among the Greeks. It shall be said of him, that he built himself a Tomb of precious stones, because in imitation of a Greek Poet, he shall write upon that subject. He shall one day translate the Odes of Anacreon, but he shall deprive them of a great part of their graces.

But if I please (interrupted Anacreon smiling) I can spoil the truth of Calliopes's prediction; for I need only burn all my Odes, to hinder that pretend∣ed Beleau from translating them to their disadvan∣tage. By no means (answer'd Amilcar) for there was never any Poet that sacrific'd a handsome composition after he had made it. Since 'tis so (reply'd he) proceed then to read, and let him translate me as he pleases. And accordingly, Amil∣car went on in this manner.

See next a Poet of quality; he shall be named Bellay; he shall compose very lofty and elegant Verses, and especially Sonnets upon the subject of Rome, which shall give him much reputation in his days:

After him, behold Jodelle, Cretin, Passerat, Olivier, and de Magny; all these Poets shall be sufficiently esteem'd during their lives: but their Works sa∣voring of the infancy of the French Poetry, ought not to be nam'd to thee.

Behold, next, the French Poet that shall make Tragedies with any reputation: his name shall be Garnier, and he shall be of a considerable lineage.

But dost thou see there a Poet with a very a∣greeable aspect? he shall be call'd Desportes, and shall aspire to be the most amorous of all the French Poets. Indeed he shall have a very sweet and passionate stile in his time; he also shall have the happiness to live in a Court, where Princes shall delight in ingenious Productions, and be in∣clin'd to magnificence. By which means he shall become sufficiently rich, much esteem'd by all the Grandees, and much in favour with Women of quality.

Then consider a man of great Dignity in France; he shall be named Perron; he shall learn all the Sciences of himself; he shall be interessed in the most important affairs of Europe, and be highly esteem'd. He shall have a great affection for Poetry, and notwithstanding his great employ∣ments, shall not cease to busie himself very fre∣quently in making Verses, but his multiplicity of affairs shall hinder him from composing any consi∣derable number.

Behold, next, an excellent Poet, who shall live at the same time; his name shall be Br••taut; For∣tune also shall be favourable to his merit: he shall be endued both with virtue and probity: his Ver∣ses shall be full of Wit and Love, and there shall be some so excellent in his Works, that there shall never be any French Poet so famous, but would wish to have been the Author of them. He shall be of considerable degree in his Countrey; his aspect shall be sweet and agreeable, and shall be at that time, the most amorous Poet of France, though Desportes, whom I shew'd thee, will dis∣pute that title with him. He shall be accus'd of not knowing when to make an end in some places, and to be something harsh in some others. But, to conclude, he shall be good amongst the good of his own times, and shall see none above him.

After him, look upon that man carelesly and un∣sutably attir'd: his name shall be Regnier; he shall be Nephew to Desportes, and deserve very much glory. He shall be the first that shall com∣pose Satyrs in French; and though he cast an eye upon some famous Originals amongst those that preceded him, yet himself shall be an Original in his time; his compositions shall be excellent, and the meanest of them shall always have life and quickness. He shall paint out vices to the life, and the vicious very pleasantly; lastly, he shall read in a peculiar way among the Poets of his age, in which those that would follow him, shall fre∣quently be subject to erre.

Consider, next a Poet, whose genius shall be great, and style sublime; he shall have both vigor and boldness, and shall deserve to be translated in∣to Latine and Italian. His name shall be Du Bartas, and he shall affect only high arguments. But for that the French Language shall not as then have attain'd to all its perfection, his Works shall soon after seem to have something antiquated in the style. After this, redouble thy attention, and behold with pleasure a man who shall have the ho∣nor to have alter'd the Language of his Countrey, and brought French Poetry to such perfection, that he shall be the pattern of all the eminent Poets that shall follow him, and be alledg'd as an authority by all those of his own Nation. He shall be nam'd Malherbe, and shall be of a very honorable lineage, but so disfavour'd by fortune, that he shall always be unhappy. 'Tis he that shall perfectly conceive the Idaea of excellent French Poetry, and find out the art of making the same Verses both stately and natural, majestick and sweet, harmonious and ex∣act. He shall not appear to have more wit than an∣other, but the handsomness of his expressions, shall advance him above all. Yet he shall have no de∣licate Soul in respect of Love, though there will be exquisite wit in his Verses. But in brief, he shall be universally acknowledg'd worthy of all the praises due to excellent Poetry, and so shall be generally extoll'd by all the World, though him∣self be design'd scarce ever to praise the Works of any.

Next, observe that black and swarthy man; he shall be named Theophile; his destiny shall not be happy; he shall come into the World with a great genius for Verse; his fancy shall be quick and confident; and if his judgement could retain his impetuosity, and correct the imperfections of his versifying, he would be Author of admirable compositions; but this he shall not be able to do, and all the good inventions of his mind shall be like Gold in the Mine, which is seen always ming∣led with earth and dust.

After him, behold Montfaron and De Lingendes, two Poets, who shall deserve well: the first shall have a handsome faculty in his conceits and ex∣pressions, and the second an amorous, and passio∣nate strain in his Verses, which shall please all those that have tender hearts.

But now prepare thy self to see an Illustrious Protector of Poetry, who shall be one of the great∣est men of the World: Dost thou see him that holds the Ocean fetter'd, whom victory waits upon, and glory accompanies? 'tis the famous Armand, who shall be renown'd in all histories; his birth shall be very illustrious, the grandeur of his mind shall surpass the extent of all imagination; his heart shall be incomparably greater than his fortune, and yet his fortune shall be so high, that his resolutions shall make the destiny of all Europe. He shall be faithful to his Master, dreadful to the enemies of his Countrey, Victor over all those he shall en∣counter with, and the grand Protector of Virtue and the Muses. I shall say nothing of his victo∣ries, nor of all his virtues; for it would require too much time; but thou shalt only know that that Heroe of the latter ages, in the midst of his great affairs, and in the heat of War, which shall involve almost all the Universe, shall afford us a Sanctuary under him; and my Companions and I shall find a Mecoenas in him, and almost the age of Augustus in the Court of France. For that he will not take much time for the Kings service to employ in composing many Verses, he will at least take care for the protection of those that shall; and by that means cause his pleasures to be placed in the rank of his virtues. For he shall give so favou∣rable reception to all persons of worth, that he shall revive all Sciences and excellent Arts. Then shall Musick, Architecture, Poetry, and especially Comedies, resume new lustre; and even all hand∣some compositions made after his death, shall be look'd upon as caus'd by his influence,

Yet after him we shall have Protectors in France, and amongst others, there shall be a per∣son in a principal office of State, who shall some∣times hear us favourably by the side of his Foun∣tains. He shall have a very great capacity for all grand affairs, he shall dispatch the most difficult matters without enforcement, and perform most noble actions without vanity; he shall have a live∣ly and piercing mind, and unparallell'd modesty, gravity, goodness, justice and probity; he shall never be false to his word, or his friends; where∣by he shall be particularly reverenc'd by all per∣sons that are endu'd with Virtue; and my compa∣nions and I will inspire all the Poets of his time, who shall not be few, with the desire of singing his glory. He that should go about to reckon up all the famous Works that shall be made from the time the great Armand shall have favour'd us to the end of that age, shall find the number almost infinite; for never shall there be seen so many great and sublime Heroick Poems, handsome Comedies, charming Eclogues, ingenious Stanzas, elegant Sonnets, agreeable Epigrams, pleasant Madrigals, and amorous Elegies.

But to do thee a considerable favour, behold that Woman who appears to thee; she hath, as thou seest, the resemblance of Pallas; and there is some∣thing so sweet, languishing, and passionate in her beauty, that it perfectly represents that charming air which Painters give to Venus. This Illustri∣ous person shall be of so noble a descent, that she shall scarce see any but Royal Families above her own: But to speak only concerning her self, know that she shall come into the World with a more ad∣mirable mind than beauty; though as thou seest, she shall be Mistress of a thousand charms. She shall also have a generous goodness, that shall render her worthy of high commendations; but to omit so many other surprising qualities as Heaven shall con∣ser upon her, know, she shall compose Elegies, so handsome, so full of passion, and so exactly ac∣complisht in all that is requir'd to the perfection of such compositions, that she shall surpass all those that preceded her, and all that shall attempt to follow her.

In the same times shall be sung a thousand ex∣quisite Sonnets in France, which shall pleasantly comprise all the Morality of Love; and it shall be principally in this age, that a particular way of gallant and pleasant kind of Poetry shall be in use, wherein Love, Praises, and Raillery shall be mingled together: but that raillery shall be in the most delicate and ingenious manner: for there is a difference between causing divertisement, and causing laughter: Nevertheless there shall be se∣veral Poets, who shall confound the gallant and pleasant sort of Poetry with the Burlesque or Mocking, which the French shall receive from the Italians; although there is much difference in the way of composition of either. There shall like∣wise be several kinds of Burlesque Verses; the pleasantness of some of which shall consist in the inventions and conceits, and not in the style; Others shall not be truly Burlesque, saving in the expressions: and there shall be one sort so vulgar, mean, extravagant, and gross, and which shall make such unhandsome representations, that my companions and I shall almost eternally disown the Poets that shall be capable of it. Withal, there shall be a numerous Sect, who shall judge it fit to speak no otherwise than the people do, and to be pleasant with no other than vulgar conceits. Not but that 'tis possible to make Works of this kind with very much art, and I assure thee, some shall deserve to be commended and desir'd. But to speak reasonably, as there are few great Ar∣chitects that attempt to build Palaces with Clay, so also few great Poets can design to make hand∣some compositions in a popular style. There shall also be other Burlesque Poets, who shall believe themselves sufficiently pleasant, provided they as∣perse the reputation or the Works of others, and who trusting to the malice of their Readers, shall not be so sollicitous, as to seek to detract with Art, so that without affecting any particular style, they shall sometimes rise high, and sometimes fall low, according as the necessity of their Rhime, or the wildness of their Fancy leads them. But as for gallant and pleasant Poetry, it shall have more affinity with that of the Greeks, than of the La∣tine; it shall be noble, natural, easie, and agree∣able; it shall sometime, deride innocently, it shall commend without much exaggeration, it shall re∣prove sometimes without sharpness, and shall be ingeniously sportful and recreative. It shall some∣times be soft and compassionate, and sometimes sprightly and cheerful; it shall likewise admit some small glances of Morality, delicately drawn; it shall sometimes be full of agreeable inventions, and ingenious fictions; Love and Wit shall be mingled together in it; it shall have a certain air in the World; that shall distinguish it from all the other sorts of Poetry; and lastly, it shall be the flower of their Wit, who shall be excellent there∣in. France shall have three or four Poets of this kind in the same age, which shall be admirable, though there will be considerable difference be∣tween them: On the other side there shall be du∣ring some time, such a multitude of Burlesque Poets, who shall cause no body to laugh, that no∣thing shall be made so great, as to exempt it from the burlesque of those persons: 'Tis true, in the same age, there shall be so many excellent persons of all conditions, that there shall be some ground of comfort against the multitude of mean Poets. But alas, I shall tell thee Hesiode, that I fear so many excellent pieces of Poetry will not find cen∣sors sufficiently equitable, and that that age so full of wit, will not—

'Tis sufficient (Calliope interrupted Apollo, who appear'd to Hesiode with the rest of the Muses;) it is not fit a Mortal should know as much as we, and thou hast told him enough to raise up his mind, and to instruct him. Apollo having done speaking, and the Concert beginning again for some mo∣ments, Hesiode imagin'd Calliope gave him a wreath of Laurel, which she held in her hand. Upon which awaking suddenly, Apollo and the Muses dis∣appear'd. In which instant he beheld a kind of light that dazled his eyes, and rose up without knowing what he was going to do, having his mind so fill'd with what he thought he had seen and heard, that he was perfectly astonish'd; which he was likewise again, presently after he had some∣thing recollected himself, whereupon, beholding a fair and young person, about twelve or thirteen years old, follow'd by three or four Women, and two Men, who after they had descended from their

chariots, consider'd the native handsomness of this famous Fountain, by the side of which he had slept. Hesiode had never lov'd any to that time, but he had no sooner beheld this fair Virgin, than his heart was affected with the sight. At first he consider'd whether it were not one of the Muses that staid by the Fountains side; but this error was soon resolv'd; for he perceiv'd this person was come thither only out of curiosity, as many others us'd to do. He saluted her very civilly with the rest of her company, and was troubled for having been seen asleep: Not but that the former appari∣tion of the Muses, did still sufficiently possess his mind, but the sight of this fair Virgin surpass'd all other imaginations; whereupon making use of the liberty taken by persons that are at such places, which people go to see out of curiosity, Hesiode approacht these Ladies, and handsomly addressing to them. May not I render a civility (said he) to such fair strangers in informing them at least of some particularities of a place they come to see? We have so little time to be here (answer'd Cly∣mene) that it will certainly be very advantageous to us, if you, being, as probably it seems, one of the Countrey, please to instruct us a little better concerning this famous fountain, the pleasantness of whose water seem'd to invite me to drink of it immediately upon my arrival. But they tell me (added she smiling) 'tis the fountain of Hippocrene, and if I take not heed, I shall not be able to hin∣der my self from making Verses. And being not assur'd to have so good a faculty as Sappho, I am in a strange perplexity; for there is nothing in the world I should more hate to make ill, than Ver∣ses. You speak so agreeably what you intend (answer'd Hesiode) that I believe you will always admirably accomplish what you design to make. But as for my part (added he, smiling) though I dwell sufficiently near this fountain, yet I dare assure you, that your eyes are more powerful to make a versifier, than the fountain which I see; for I have walk'd a hundred times upon its banks, without having had the least temptation to com∣pose verses; and nevertheless within a moment that I have had the honor to see you, I find a strange desire in my self, of being able to tell you, as well in Verse as in prose, that I have never be∣held any person so transcendently fair, as you. Clymene blut at the flattery of Hesiode, who by that means conceiving her more lovely than be∣fore, enforc'd himself to speak to her again. Where∣upon, the rest of their company mingling in their conversation, they continued above an hour in that place; after which, they all went together to the City, which bare the name of the famous Mountain, consecrated to the Muses; for this fair company came to see the Festival of Cupid, which was to be celebrated. Now Hesiode being a per∣son of much civility, and highly taken with Cly∣mene, he took all imaginable care for her conveni∣ence, in seeing the solemnity of this Festival. But it was remarkable, that having never before thought of composing Verses, he notwithstand∣ing made some before he went to his rest that night, and could not hinder himself from it; so that he knew not whether it was the Muses that had inspir'd him, or the fair eyes of Clymene; for the commendation of them was his inducement to the undertaking. In the mean time he under∣stood Clymene was a person of quality of the City of Locri, whose fortune was not very happy, be∣cause she was not very rich. He likewise contract∣ed familiarity with one of her brothers, who was then with her, and whose name was Antiphanes. While the Festival of Cupid lasted, he was insepa∣rable from this agreeable company, and compos'd several pieces of Courtship in Verse, with a facili∣ty himself was astonisht at, not knowing, as I said, whether the Muses had inspir'd him, or the beau∣ty of Clymene unloos'd his wit. The departure of this fair Virgin, after having afflicted him for some dayes, occasion'd his making of more Verses. But being of an age which easily admits consolation of any thing, his grief did not torment him long. 'Tis true, the applauses which all the World gave to his Verses, contributed much to comfort him, for Glory is a Mistress, whose first favors are al∣ways sweet. Whereupon he addicted himself wholly to Poetry, and really acted as if he had been inspir'd; for he studied with such speed, that in very little time several Works of his were seen upon divers subjects, which requir'd different sorts of knowledge; whereby it came to be re∣ported over all Greece, that in a moment the Mu∣ses had taught him all the Sciences. He writ a Tract concerning Agriculture, which he address'd to his Brother; he made another of Astrology; he celebrated several Heroes, and Heroesses of an∣tiquity, and spoke much more to the advantage of Women than of Men, to be contrary to the custom of Homer, who had more highly extoll'd Men than Women, relating several examples of illustrious and virtuous Women, which had con∣sented to marry with worthy Men, for their virtue only. Moreover, he made the Epithalamium of Peleus and Thetis; a lamentation upon the death of Batrachus, and a Work which he call'd The Shield of Hercules; at the same time also he began that which he call'd Theogonia, in which he speaks of the original of the gods; he discours'd likewise concerning the art of Physick and Divination; and which is remarkable, having in one of these Works, introduc'd a Nightingale and a Hawk speaking together, he gave the first pattern of those ingenious Fables of Brutes, whereby Aesop after∣wards render'd himself so famous. So that ha∣ving acquir'd a high reputation by this great num∣ber of Works, which he compos'd in the space of five or six years, his heart no longer appear'd sensible to any thing but glory and ambition. Then he made several voyages with very much pleasure; because into what place soever he went, his repu∣tation out-stripping him, he found friends every where. But that which caus'd him to be most spo∣ken of, was the advantage he got over Homer, by the judgement of Panis King of Chalcis; for ha∣ving both made Verses at the celebration of the funerals of Amphidamas, Hesiode was declared Victor; and for having explicated a Riddle, which Homer was unable to do, he obtain'd a Tripod of Gold, which he consecrated to the Mu∣ses. Indeed the judgement of Panis was not ap∣prov'd by all the World; for the siders with Ho∣mer, and the enemies of Hesiode, when they ob∣serv'd some person to judge unsutably of any thing, took up a by-word in derision, saying, That it was a judgement of Panis: But however, Hesiode ha∣ving obtain'd the prize, and plac'd it in the Tem∣ple

of Delphos, with an Inscription, that signified the glory which he had gained, the advantage re∣mained wholly on his side, and the Victor of him that had overcome all others, could not fail to be glorious. Ambition thus possessing the heart of Hesiode, he studied only to preserve the glory, which he had gotten, and that in such a manner, as it might prove beneficial to his Fortune. To which end at his return from Chalcis, he con∣sulted the Oracle concerning the conduct of his life, which answered him, that he ought care∣fully to avoid the. Temple of Jupiter Nemaeus; for which reason he removed far from Peloponnesus, where that famed Temple stands. His Father be∣ing dead some days before, and having his estate at his own disposing, he resolved to go to the Court of the Prince of Locri, who was reputed a Lover of Verses. Indeed, it seems the Locrians are more obliged than others to esteem Verses, and those which make them; for the famous Mountain of Parnassus divides their Country. The Opuntines call the Locrians Orien∣tals, and on the contrary, the Osolians count the Locrians Occidentals; the first bear in their En∣signes Aurora, as it uses to be painted, and the other the Evening Star. Now Hesiode having cho∣sen the Court of the Prince of Locri, as a Court wherein ingenious persons might advance their fortunes more than elsewhere, and wherein he might have some knowledge since his having seen Clymene, Antiphanes, and the rest of their com∣pany at Helicon, took his journey thither, though without having at that time, any sentiment of that beginning Love he had had at eighteen years of age, for a Virgin of thirteen. Another thing which obliged him the more to go thither, was that he was informed the Prince of Locri had a Favorite, who as well as the Prince his Master, delighted to render justice to merit. There was also another reason induced him to make choice of that place; for the chief Priest of Helicon had a Niece married at Locri, to a man of quality, who was in no mean respect with the Prince's Favorite whose name was Lysicrates. Hesiode then went to Locri, and was entertained at the house of the Niece of that chief Priest of Helicon, who was named Belintha, and her Husband Artimedes. As soon as he was there, he enquired tidings of the fair Clymene, to whom Belintha was an intimate friend. This Woman who was very amiable and sprightly, answered him sighing, that Clymene was in the Countrey, that she preferred sollitude before conversation, that she had bid adieu to the world, and would return to the City, till the ri∣gor of the winter should drive her thither. But Clymene (answered Hesiode much surprised) cannot in my opinion be above 19 or 20 years old, which is not an age in which to prefer solitude before the Court, unless she have lost her beauty by some ac∣cident. I assure you (replyed Belintha) that Cly∣mene is as fair as ever she was; and though she were less, yet she has so great a Wit, that she would be always infinitely amiable. It must needs be then, (said Hesiode) that this fair Virgin be possessed with some great discontent, which causes her to hate the World; but however, (added he) she will at least admit of a visit. By no means (an∣swered Belintha) and unless Antiphanes or Ganetor, who are her brothers, carry you thither, I think I dare not do it; for she hates men principally. Then some one perhaps has betrayed her (said He∣siode.) Since several have loved her (answered Be∣lintha smiling) it is no wonder if some of them have deceived her. Oh, I beseech you (replyed Hesiode) tell me a little more exactly what has be∣fallen Clymene, You shall know soon enough (an∣swered Belintha) but nothing at present from me, Nor did Hesiode know more concerning her at that time: And moreover, ambition predominating in his heart, he was more sollicitous of getting an interest with the Prince of Locri and Lysicrates, then learning tidings of Clymene, Accordingly he succeeded happily in the design he had made, and in very few days became highly in favor with the Prince and Lysicrates, and consequently with all the Court; for 'tis the custom for those who are favorably respected by Princes or men in govern∣ment, to be so likewise by all the rest of the world. Thus ambition feeding it self with hope in the heart of Hesiode, he considered only how to make this beginning of favor become profitable to him, and thought no more of going to seek Clymene, in the Countrey, nor informing himself particu∣larly of what had hapned to her. Yet he contract∣ed a great friendship with Antiphanes and Ganetor her Brothers; but being it was not of them that he could learn the adventures of their Sister, he knew nothing of them then, but imployed him∣self wholly in the care of his fortune, without feeling in his heart any inclination to love any fair one. He had without doubt a very respectful friendship for Belintha, and Belintha a very tender one for him; but it was absolutely without court∣ship. At that time the fair Clymene was with an Aunt of hers in the Country, without having any other consolation in her melancholly, than that which she received from the Letters of her dear Belintha, who us'd all means she could to cure her of her discontent. Hesiode lodging at the house of Artemides, had very much freedome with her, and went into her Chamber, and her Cabinet al∣so, though she were not there. And going one day into her Chamber, whilst Belintha was there, he beheld an opened letter lying upon the Table, and though he was very discreet and respected Be∣lintha enough, no to prie into her secrets, farther than she was willing, yet he could not contain from casting his eyes on this Letter, which he perceived was written by a Woman. But that which augmented his curiosity was, that he pre∣sently espied his own name in it, which farther instigating him to read it, he took it up, and found it written in these words,

CLYMENE to her dear BELINTHA.

I Am very glad you have found an agreeable Friend, who comforts you for the loss of a faithful one, but though the merit of Hesiode be not unknown to me, yet I leave you to possess his friendship without envy; for I have so bad an opinion of the hearts of all men, that I can ne∣ver be capable of confiding in any. But my dear Belintha take heed to your self, I conjure you; Love sometimes disguises it self in Friendship, and persons are often in love without thinking of it. You know you understood better than I the sentiments I had for the perfidious.—Be wise by my example, fear the merit of Hesiode, and distrust your self; for certainly if I had not been confident of my self, I had never been deceived by him that has forsaken me for For∣tune, which will infallibly one day forsake him. Adieu, my dear Belintha; I have not the power to beseech you not to love me more, although it would be almost necessary for my contentment it were so, for I have no regret in my solitude but for you.

As Hesiode had done reading this Letter, Belintha entred and saw it in his hand; so that having unwittingly left it there, she was sorry for it, and blamed Hesiode for his curiosity; but he desired her pardon for it in so handsome terms, and told her so ingenuously how it came about, that she did not stick to pardon him, on condi∣tion, he would not let any person know of his having seen the letter! However, (added she smiling) you may believe, if you please, that shall never have need of Clymene's counsel, and that without it I have so bad an opinion of men, in re∣ference to Love, that were you as much my Lover as you are my Friend, and I might comply with you innocently, yet I would never engage my self to Love; for in truth, after what has befallen Clymene, no trust is to be given to any thing. But Madam (answered Hesiode) do you think I can have seen this Letter of Clymene, and not de∣sire to know her adventures? I confess the curiosi∣ty I had to that purpose, was extinguished, but the sight of this Letter has so revived it in my mind, that I can live no longer without knowing them. Sincerely, (added he) I believe there is some kind of enchantment in this Letter: for as soon as I beheld my name writ in it, my heart be∣gan to beat; and now I have read it, I have a jealous curiosity to know who it is Clymene com∣plains of, and I hate him before I know him. Yet you are very obsequious to him, (answered Be∣lintha) Is it the Prince, (demanded Hesiode?) No, (answered Belintha) but 'tis Lysicrates. How? (replyed he) is Lysicrates the man Clymene com∣plains of? Yes (answered Belintha) and she has reason to accuse him. I beseech you Madam, (replyed Hesiode) tell me all you know concerning, Clymene; for she returns again into my fancy, such as I saw her upon the Bank of the Fountain Hippocrene. Although I know nothing which is not glorious to Clymene, (answered Belintha) yet if I tell you all that I know concerning her, I re∣quire that you never speak of it to any person whatsoever. If you require no more (replyed Hosiode) you may please to begin, for I am of opi∣nion, that nothing ought to be kept more invio∣lably, than a secret intrusted to us, though we should not apprehend that what is told us, ought to be concealed. After this, Belintha caused Hesio∣de to enter into her Cabinet, and having given order for none to interrupt them, began to speak in this manner.

Since your self have seen Clymene, I shall omit to say any thing concerning her person, saving that as wit advances the esteem of beauty, Clymene is infinitely more amiable than she was when you saw her, because she has a wit, than which none can be more elegant, natural, fit for ingenious things and divertising, and the most charming humor in the World. As for Lysicrates you know his birth is very noble; nor are you ignorant that he is a comely person, and has wit and worth; but how∣ever, it may be said you do not know Lysicrates. For before he came to be the Prince's Favorite, he was a thousand times more affectionate to his Friends of both Sexes, for as you know, a man cannot be Fortunes and his own; and has power no longer to give himself to another, when he has no more a right over himself. Now Lysicrates, being infinitely more agreeable than you see him, beheld the fair Clymene, the first time she appeared in the World; and had so strong an inclination for her, and she for him, that the very first day they became friends with a belief, that that kindness would last as long as their Lives. Not that Clymene was yet come to an age, in which she might pro∣bably know what friendship was, but having a very forward wit, a tender heart, sensible mind, and sweet nature, she ceased to act like a child, before she ceased to be so. But for that there is something in Clymene's deportment, which infu∣ses awfulness and respect, she being serious and discreet, Lysicrates was a sufficient long time be∣fore he dared to speak to her otherwise than as an agreeable Friend. In the mean while, to tell you the truth of things, they were the happier there∣by; for the Aunt of Clymene not imagining that Lysicrates was amorous of her Niece, permitted him to speak to her as much as he pleased; and Clymene being averse to imagine that the kindness of Lysicrates proceeded from Love, lived with him with all the confidence and liberty, that a dear familiarity was capable to give. If there was any little news which was not to be told aloud, they whispered it to one another; if any uncouth adventure hapned, they spoke sincerely what they thought of it, if any excellent Sonnet were made, Lysicrates gave it to Clymene, or Cly∣mene to Lysicrates; and thus there being a society of pleasures and little secrets between them, they led a very pleasant life. Clymene without doubt had no great wealth; but being without ambition, she was not therefore unhappy. As for Lysicrates, he was more rich than she, and seemed to be content with his Fortune, and to desire nothing

else but to be loved by Clymene. In what place soe∣ver Lysicrates heard his Mistress spoken of, he heard of her praises; and in what ever place Cly∣mene heard her Love mentioned, she was obliged to rejoyce, for the glory he had in being commen∣ded by all the World. Now Clymene being very ingenious, disengaged her self as much as she could from the multitude of visits, and confined her self to a little society infinitely agreeable, because it consisted only of very worthy persons. Lysicra∣tes for his part, delighted in no place, saving where Clymene was, he attended the Prince only out of duty, and pleased himself with none but the Friends of Clymene. So long as the fair wea∣ther lasted, we walkt continually together in all the pleasant places about the City; for Clymene's humor and mine; having great resemblance, we were much pleas'd with walking. Lysicrates also had the same inclination. But though these two persons had then a very tender passion one for ano∣ther, yet Clymene would not think it was Love that was in her heart; because having only inno∣cent thoughts, she would believe she had only a friendship for Lysicrates. But on the contrary, I maintained boldly, she had something more than she imagined; and I remember one day amongst the rest, speaking to her of her affection for Ly∣sicrates; I cunningly urged, that if it were no more but friendship, that which she had for me would have prepossessed her mind enough, to hin∣der her from having such a dearness for him. I confess to you sincerely, (said I to her) I cannot comprehend why the friendship you bear to me, has not defended your heart against Lysicrates, for you say, you will not have him ever pretend to obtain any thing of you, and that you will only eternally love and be loved. I acknowledge it, (said Clymene.) Why then (replyed I) are you not contented with my affection? You know I have been a Lover in our friendship, (if I may so speak) I was the first that sought to please you, I have had a thousand and a thousand little cares to divert you, you have always been Mistress of my will, you have reigned in a soveraign manner in my heart, you have known all my secrets, and have trusted me with all yours. Alass! my dear Belintha (answered Clymene blushing) when two such friends as we affect one another, without Love, they have not many secrets which are agreea∣ble either to relate to hear. But yet, (replyed I) you were not formerly weary of me, a trifle divert∣ed you, we spoke a thousand innocent follies, which we would not speak even to a Lover. I agree with you, (answered Clymene) but on the other side, a Lover tells me a thousand agreeable blandishments, which a female Friend cannot. Yet there are not many Friends of our Sex more flatte∣ring than I, (added I,) for I scarce ever see you without commending you; sometimes I say you have a rare complexion, sparkling eyes, and a cheerful humor, and at other times I commend your stature; nor do I think Lysicrates extols you more than I. So that requiring nothing but esteem, dear∣ness, care, and obedience, and not pretending that your affection for Lysicrates should ever satisfie the least of his desires, I see not (said I) why you are not contented with my friendship, who have all the love for you, you can challenge, and have this advantage, that it does not expose you to detracti∣on. Ah cruel friend, that you are! (cryed Cly∣mene) you take pleasure to insult over an unhappy person. I do so at least (answered I) in convincing you of your insincerity; for you ought to confess that you love Lysicrates, as all virtuous Mistresses do their servants, and that in very truth, you give hope to him that had touched your heart. I confess (replyed she) I wish he would hope; but I declare to you withall, that I should be infinite∣ly troubled, if I could reproach my self for have∣ing given him just cause to hope. You speak after so strange a manner, (said I,) that I doubt not but at length you will come to love Lysicrates, till you become unhappy by him, and perhaps less loved. That would be hard Fortune, (answe∣red this lovely Virgin) if one should destroy the ardor of a Lover, by giving him tokens of affecti∣on, and he must needs have an ingrateful heart, and an ill-natured mind▪ But my dear Belintha, (added she) fear not that unhappiness to me, for I shall never love Lysicrates too much. I wish it, (said I to her) for your contentment, because I am perswaded the best Friends are the most dange∣rous Lovers,, and that all men in general are to be feared. But how confident soever Clymene was of not loving Lysicrates too much, yet she came by degrees to love him with a dearness which caused all her discontent and all her happiness. However, notwithstanding the affection she had for him, her Virtue continued immovable. She suffered him at length to speak to her of his passi∣on, and gave him several innocent testimonies of her own, but Reason and Virtue were always Mi∣stresses in her heart. That which was remarka∣ble in this adventure, was, that in the beginning of Lysicrates love, he offered Clymene several times to mary her, without the consent of his Pa∣rents, who by reason of the small fortune of this fair Virgin, would never have approved the match, but she having a great and generous heart, oppo∣sed the thing she desired, and told Lysicrates that if Fortune did nothing considerable for her, she judged she ought not to marry him, for fear of rendring him unhappy. For as for my part, (ad∣ded she) according to the sentiments of my heart, I should account my self happy in a Cottage, pro∣vided you were contented there. But since I ought not to believe you can regulate your ambiti∣on, as I could mine, I must refuse that which I desire, and resolve rather to be always unhappy, than to expose you to repent your self of having sacrificed your Fortune to your Love. How? Madam (answered Lysicrates) can you believe it possible for me to change the sentiments I have for you? and that my Soul is so devoted to inte∣rest, as to esteem my self unhappy in a condition wherein you can be capable of contentment? No, no, you know not the heart of Lysicrates, and you do him a strange injustice. For were it not that I fear, lest the height of my Fortune is not wor∣thy of you, I would not leave you one moment in quiet. But to tell you the truth, I am so sen∣sible in all that concerns you, that I should fear to become perfectly miserable, if I did not see you perfectly happy. Therefore my dear Clyme∣ne, (added he) it is requisite my Love make me ambitious, and I must loosen my self in some sort from you, in order to be conjoined inseparably to you, and go and make an interest with the Prince,

if possibly he may be so favorable to me as I ima∣gine. I beseech you, Lysicrates, (replyed Clymene) tell me not you will become ambitious through Love, for these are too imperious passions, each of which require an intire heart, and who glory in destroying one the other by turns. If you ever discover that weakness in my heart, (answer'd he) take your affection from me, treat me as a Villain, and as a Traitor, more criminal than one unconstant. But moreover, Lysicrates (said she) you will attempt a harder matter than you imagine, which is to give bounds to Ambition. When men desire a thing, they do all they can to ob∣tain it; when they have obtain'd it, they desire another greater, and imagine themselves nearer it than they were to that they obtain'd first. So that great imployments evermore approaching at the rate that favor increases, the desires are heightned, when one would think they ought to be satisfied. Thus all the passions uniting into one single one, it oftentimes happens, that Ambition extinguishes Love, weakens Friendship, changes all pleasures into one sole delight, and likewise in that man∣ner changes the hearts of those that suffer them∣selves to be possess'd with it, that they are no longer to be known for the same persons, nor do they know those they did formerly; yea, they no longer know themselves. You speak this with a certain fierce and melancholly air (answer'd Lysicrates, smiling) which would almost make me think, that you believe already, I forsake you to follow Fortune; and in the mean time, I have not yet so much as resolv'd to go and seek it. After this, he added a thousand sweetnesses and blan∣dishments, full of generosity, which pleas'd Cly∣mene infinitely, who related them to me the next morning. And indeed, during some time, it was not possible to testifie more love than Lysicrates did to this discreet Virgin. He thought his visits ne∣ver long enough, moments were as tedious as ages in all other places; but in her conversation, whole days seem'd to him but moments. He writ to her every day, and oftentimes more than once. When he could not see her, he sought out people with whom he might discourse concerning her: he was zealous, assiduous, punctual, and careful, to seek out even the least occasions to please her. Where∣fore Clymene, as her ill fate would have it, belie∣ving at that time, nothing could ever diminish so strong a passion, laid a foundation of eternal felicity, upon the Love of Lysicrates, and so ingross'd all her joy in her affection, that she no longer cared for any other sort of divertisement, Lysicrates having a house in the Countrey, very near that, where Clymene at present resides, she lik'd far more to be in the Countrey than in the City, provided Lysicrates were her neighbor: on which occasion in the Songs he made for her, he sometimes nam'd her his Shepherdess, and sometimes Amaryllis; and she gave him the name of Thyrsis, in the an∣swers she made to him; for Clymene, no doubt, makes good Verses, for one of her Sex, though she carefully conceals it, and makes no ostentation of being a Wit.

Thus liv'd these two persons, till there hapned to be a great Hunting made by that Prince of Locri, at which Lysicrates was present, and seem'd so promising a person in the eyes of the Prince, that he talked with him a long while: and being well satisfied of his ingenuity, he made him a thousand Caresses, and commanded him to see him oftner than ordinary. I, who understood this from Ar∣timedes, went to congratulate with Clymene, who was very joyful for the honor the Prince had done to her Lover; who was not less pleas'd to see For∣tune prevent his endeavours. Yet he believ'd his joy proceeded only from the interest of his Love; so that he us'd a thousand obliging expressions to Clymene, when he came to entertain her in pri∣vate. Some days after he was higher in his blan∣dishments; for you must know, that after the day of the hunting, the Prince desir'd Lysicrates to see him every day. Whereupon, all the Court look∣ing upon him as a Favorite, many insinuated to be his Friends, and endeavour'd to testifie more respect to Clymene; who being perfectly gene∣rous, counsell'd Lysicrates to take as much time as he could, from his conversation with her, to be∣stow it upon his attendance with the Prince. How∣ever, remember (said she to him) that I claim your heart to be always mine, and presume the favors of Fortune will never be so pleasing to you, as those you receive from me. I also require (ad∣ded she) that you do not design to go so far as For∣tune will lead you; for generally she casts them down headlong who give up themselves wholly to her conduct. Resolve therefore to acquire as much Estate as is competent for an honest person of your condition to become happy, and no more; and do not endanger the loss of all to gain all; 'tis bet∣ter generally to renounce a great fortune, and live in tranquility with an indifferent one, than to raise up enviers to your self by your grandeur. 'Tis glorious to be envy'd for Virtue, but it is not al∣ways to be so for Riches which are gotten; for, to speak in general, all men so pertinaciously maintain what they possess, that when a man be∣comes extraordinary rich in a little time, people are apt to believe that he became so unjustly. Put bounds then to your ambition, my dear Lysicrates; for if you do not, infallibly you will become both unjust and unhappy. I beseech you, my dear Cly∣mene (answer'd he) do not suspect me to have a Soul sway'd only with interest; for I swear to you, the love I have for you, is the sole cause of the servitude wherein I engage my self; and un∣less you will be ungrateful, you must be account∣able to me, for all the cares I shall have to please the Prince; you must pitty me when I am with him, and believe I shall think only of you, and that 'tis you I shall serve in serving him; for un∣less you promise me this, I shall not be able to de∣prive my self of the joy of seeing you every mo∣ment, and dividing my self between my Master and my Mistriss. Clymene hearing Lysicrates speak with so much love, had her heart mov'd with it, and generously exhorted him, to constrain him∣self to see her more seldom, and yet to love her always. And accordingly Lysicrates began to be in∣gratiated with the Prince, who gave him a consi∣derable employment, fifteen days after this con∣versation. In this beginning, Lysicrates had so much joy when he went to see Clymene, that he seem'd more amorous of her. He was so troubled when he was to part from her, he writ to her so frequently, and appear'd so careful to do civili∣ties to all those he thought she lov'd, that she had great reason to be satisfy'd with him. Neverthe∣less,

she acted with a little more reservedness to∣wards Lysicrates; after he began to be in favour, being unwilling (she said) he should suspect her of doing him favours upon the account of inte∣rest. But the brothers of Clymene, whose hearts were not so noble as hers, were desirous that she would treat Lysicrates with more dearness, out of a design they had to raise their fortunes by his means. Yet this discreet Virgin following her own reason, and not their ambition, liv'd, as I told you, with all imaginable prudence, though she had an infinite dearness in her heart for Lysicrates. Whilst she reflected upon her own deportment, and that of Lysicrates, she began to think it strange, he took no notice of her changing her treatment of him, and likewise took it ill, that in the augmentation of his favour, he no longer mention'd rendring their fortune one day inseparable, as he had done formerly. It seem'd to her, his discourse was more sparing than it had us'd to be, whereof complain∣ing to be one day in the Countrey, whither she went for two days; Well, my dear Belintha (said she to me) do not you perceive that Lysicrates makes little difficulty to dispense with seeing me almost at all, and does his duty so easily, that if he take not heed, he will soon fail in the first of all duties. But Lysicrates (said I to her, ac∣cording as I then believ'd) ceases to see you for for some time, in order to seeing you all his life af∣ter in quiet. No, no, Belintha, (reply'd Clymene) do not deceive your self, the heart of Lysicrates is already chang'd, and I am the most mistaken in the World, if ambition do not absolutely deprive me of him. That which most troubles me (add∣ed she, blushing) is, that I would certainly know whether they are the favours of fortune or mine, which hinder Lysicrates from speaking to me some∣times, such things as might give me ground to think he believes it not impossible, but that we may one day live together. Lysicrates's Soul (an∣swer'd I) must needs be much devoted to his in∣terest, if the alteration of his fortune change his heart; and he must be very destitute of reason, if he ceases to love because he is lov'd. Ah! Be∣lintha (cry'd Clymene) men are much more un∣just than you imagine, and their love more various than I believ'd. For indeed, to discover to you the bottom of my heart, Marriage in general frightens me; I find there is oftentimes much fol∣ly, or at least much boldness in resolving upon it; but though my reason make me know all the troublesome consequences of it; yet I confess to you, when it comes into my mind, that perhaps Lysicrates would not marry me if I should be wil∣ling to it: indignation seizes me, and I have almost more desire to hate him, than if he had commit∣ted an infidelity against me; because in some oc∣casions one may be unfaithful, without doing any act, and a Lover can scarce ever be unwilling to marry his Mistriss when she desires it, unless it be upon some injurious motive. For is there any thing more extravagant than to think that the te∣stimonies of dearness which you have given, should be effective against your self? Nevertheless 'tis true, that the injustice of men is so great, that after having a thousand times requested innocent favors from a person whom they love, if she comes at length after a thousand services, to grant the same to them, they often times render their vir∣tue suspected, and cause that in desiring her for a Mistriss, they do not wish her for a Wife. More∣over, my dear Belintha, I do not conceive that two free persons can love one another perfectly, nor e∣ven wholly with innocence, if they have not at least the thought, that it is not impossible for them to become one day inseparable, and if they do not entertain themselves with the hopes of a thousand pleasures, whereof the sole consideration makes them pass hours and days agreeably. Perhaps (add∣ed she, sighing) if Lysicrates should offer me to day to marry me, I should not marry him; for having a heart so great as I have, 'tis possible his great fortune might hinder me from it. But, to speak freely, I would, in order to my content∣ment, be assur'd of the power to become his Wife when I pleas'd. However, I tell you once again. Lysicrates does not at present think of it; and I cannot conjecture, as I told you, whether they are the favours of fortune, or my own, that hin∣der him. But (said I to her) all the favours that you do him being innocent, you cannot ac∣cuse him of such a sentiment as you speak of. Did you well understand the injustice of men (answer'd she) you would speak otherwise, for do not love them, they forsake you; love them, they despise you, and in what manner soever you act with them, you are almost always deceiv'd. As Clymene was speaking thus, she receiv'd a Let∣ter from Lysicrates, wherein were only these words.

Lysicrates to Clymene.

I Could not visit you yesterday, nor can I wait upon you to day; and I know not likewise, whether I shall have opportunity to see you to morrow: but I know well that I hold all time for lost, which I spend in absence from you.

Clymene, after she had read this Ticket, an∣swer'd to it in these terms.

Clymene to Lysicrates.

'TIs very much that you remember you ever saw me, and do not forbid me to hope to see you again; for when people are taken up with affairs of profit at Court, 'tis very difficult to attend to any of pleasure in the Countrey.

Clymene seal'd up this Letter, and deliver'd it to him who brought that of Lysicrates. In the mean time an urgent affair happening to Cly∣mene's Aunt, which oblig'd hither; we arriv'd here in that very evening. Which being known to Lysicrates, he came the next morning to the house of Clymene; but he was no sooner there, but he desir'd permission to read a packet of im∣portance, which he had receiv'd by the way; and he read it accordingly with very much attention.

And that which was remarkable, was, that in go∣ing to close it up after he had read it, he let fall the Letter which Clymene had writ to him the day before, and which he had not yet open'd. He blush'd with shame as soon as he perceiv'd it, for he had forgotten to read it; but Clymene blusht with indignation when she observ'd it. So that perceiving he had not yet seen it, she took it, and breaking it open hastily, Believe me, Lysicrates (said she to him) tis fit to write to you no longer any but Letters of affairs; for, as for those of friendship, you have no leasure to read them; and which is more disobliging to continue to write such to you, you have so little care of them, that they may easily be read by others. Lysicrates en∣deavour'd to excuse himself with the multitude of affairs he had had; No doubt you have too many (answer'd Clymene roughly) and therefore 'tis fit I dispense with all the cares you have been accustom'd to take in reference to me; for though you have much fewer than formerly, yet I have robb'd you of some moments. 'Tis true, Ma∣dam, (reply'd he) I am less frequently with you, than I was at the time when I was not oblig'd to attend the Prince; but nevertheless I am there of∣ten enough, and no doubt, as often as I can. Ha! Lysicrates (said she) when one thinks that he is long enough present with his Mistriss, there wants not much, but that he will be weary of being with her at all; and therefore if you will credit me, give your self wholly to your Master, and take no further thought concerning me. Lysicra∣tes perceiving Clymene was in choller, was asha∣med of what had happened, and address'd to her with so many gentle and sweet expressions, that he made his peace in some manner before he went away: for Clymene having a very great inclination towards him. lov'd him as greatly culpable as he appear'd. At that time there hapned some diffe∣rence between the Oriental and Occidental Locri∣ans; upon which, the Prince went to the War, whither Lysicrates follow'd him, and perfectly gain'd his favour by the brave actions he per∣form'd During this absence, he writ sufficiently often to Clymene, but they were rather Letters of News, than Love-Letters, and more related to what pass'd in the Army, than any thing else. Upon which, Clymenes's mind was extreamly in∣cens'd; yet her indignation was really, only Love disguis'd; for she was as sensible of Lysicrates's glo∣ry as of her own. 'Tis true, that which defend∣ed him in her heart, was, that she knew he be∣liev'd he lov'd as dearly as heretofore, and did not take himself to be ambitious. At his return he went to see her as soon as he was arriv'd; but his visit was so short, that the sum of it was only to tell her, he would wait upon her as soon as he could. But his affairs multiplying as his favour increas'd, he had then so little time of which he could dis∣pose, that it may be said, he had not leasure to love Clymene. Oftentimes when he was at her house, he spent half of the time he was there, in receiving several Messages and Letters, or else in answering them, after having requested her per∣mission to that purpose. He was no longer the same Lysicrates, who entertain'd her with agree∣able discourses and blandishments, he was a restless ambitious person, who found himself happy in no place. Clymene was sensibly afflicted at it; but I can say, I never saw a more tender, nor yet more discreet grief than hers; for she conceal'd it so well, that I was the only confident of her discontents. One day she would have hid from me some Ver∣ses which she had made; but I having gotten them, she was necessitated to suffer me to keep them on condition I would not shew them.

I beseech you (interrupted Hesiode) repeat to me the Verses of Clymene. I will (answer'd Be∣lintha) provided you will never speak of them; for perhaps you will find them sufficiently amo∣rous: I promise you all you please (reply'd he) provided you recite the Verses to me which I have so great a curiosity to hear. And accordingly Be∣lintha having recollected them in her memory, re∣cited these that follow, which Clymene made for the ambitious Lysicrates.

SUre you by amorous flames were ne'r possest, Since mine (alas!) do so unhappy prove, That fierce ambition drives me from your breast, Slighting the charms of Innocence and Love.

Now new designs are follow'd, other cares, And fresh desires; and your Inquietude Is your delight, whilst tumults of affairs Are priz'd above the peace of Solitude.

My charming Desart, which e'r long so sweet, So lovely seem'd, is unattractive now, My tenderest sighs no longer your delight: 'Tis Goddess Fortune now to whom you bow.

Her splendor you pursue, and humorous Laws Embrace, no longer now your own or mine; Her beauty now your adoration draws: Though, Thyrsis, know, her favours are not kind.

No choice she uses in her Gifts, no Love; Oft-times, in one day her caresses cease; To dearest friends she does unconstant prove, Mocking Men's hopes with guileful promises.

She loves disord'rous change, and wild confusion, And basest flatterers for her Creatures takes; Go then, Ungrateful, follow her delusion Which seldom Virtue but unhappy makes.

Pursue her still; to me no more address; None but her favors let acceptance find. 'Tis shame to love a simple Shepherdess; That thought sutes only with a vulgar mind.

Ambitious hearts a quiet life despise; Fortune's the object of a Heroe's love. Whil'st in her hands all the World's treasure lies, And Sea and Land alike her power do prove.

A hundred times she can you Victor make, Yet has not the disposal of my heart; That's in my pow'r, O gods! what is't I speak? (Alas!) in speaking so, a sigh does from it part.

Beholding you, a secret check of mind Tells me, My heart no longer is my own; Though it repines, and I can only find The soothing of sweet words t'appease its moan.

'Twould be deluded; come, deceive it you, Thyrsis, and to your Amaryllis swear, That constant to your chains and ever true, Her Rival Fortune you'll renounce for her,

Perhaps, this moment in her eyes you'll see Wherewith to cure the mo'st ambitious mind: Perhaps, this moment, such fidelity, Such ardent passion in her Soul you'll find, That you'll account to be belov'd a pleasure Greater than that of gaining flitting Treasure.

Oh precious moment! haste to ease my pains; Your presence to my griefs would comfort speak, I can no longer bear such heavy chains; Support them, Thyrsis, or I shall them break.

But yet in breaking them I shall expire; Rather connect them with a faster tie. 'Tis Love that quickens me; for were that fire Extinct, my heart would forthwith faint and die. This torment I had rather ne'r forgo, Than be without it and my Lover too.

How? (cry'd Hesiode after Belintha had recited these Verses) did Clymene, that very Clymene, whom I saw by the side of the famous spring near Helicon, make such amorous Verses as those I have now heard? Yes (answer'd Belintha) but although they were very pertinent to affect the heart of Lysicrates, yet the generous Clymene, who was unable to restrain her self from compo∣sing them in the transport of her sorrow and affection, could not resolve to let them be seen by him for whom they were made. On the con∣trary, she affected rather to disguise her regret: So that Lysicrates believing her well satisfi'd with him, was very merry, whilst she was extremely melancholly and pensive: for what resolutions so∣ever she made, it was impossible for her to cease lo∣ving Lysicrates. How unhappy am I (said she to me one day, when I endeavour'd to comfort her) for I resent a grief of so strange a nature, that I cannot almost hope to be cur'd of it. If Lysicra∣tes were unfaithful, as many Lovers are, and trans∣ferr'd his affections from me to another, despight would suddenly cure me; I should pass from Love to Hatred, and from that to contempt, which would afterwards leave me in a quiet indifference. But as for the manner after which he ceases to love me, they whose hearts are not very nice in love, would almost believe Lysicrates not abso∣lutely culpable: But, according as I apprehend things, inconstancy would seem less horrible to me, than the change which is hapned in his heart, since the alteration of his fortune. There is frailty and weakness in ordinary inconstancy, but there is un∣worthiness and poorness of mind in the change of Lysicrates; but though I should dye of discon∣tent, I will drive out of my heart a passion which is not criminal, but only because he that excited it is not worthy of it. Moreover, though he should be willing to return to me, he would not have leasure to think of it, he has so many im∣portant affairs in his head, which all the punctu∣alities of a dear passion could not consist with. But (said I to her) why do not you change, as well as Lysicrates? Be ambitious as well as he; and without considering whether he loves you as much as he did heretofore, dissemble your sentiments, and engage him, at least to establish your fortunes, since he is able to do it. No, no, (answer'd this generous Virgin) I will never have any obligati∣on to a man who loves me less than he ought, and whom I intend to love no longer. And though my fortune were much more unhappy than it is, I should be absolutely uncapable to receive any thing from a person that had depriv'd me of his heart. I know my brothers are of a different opinion, and would have me sacrifice my self to their interests; but they shall never oblige me to follow their inclinations. When Lysicrates was not in favour, they condemn'd the affection I had for him; and now they think it necessary for their preferment, no doubt they will blame the manner, after which I intend to treat him for the future. However, I will continue firm in my re∣solution. But (said I to her) at least give Lysi∣crates to repent. I shall give him sufficient (an∣swer'd she) for I find my heart will not so soon obey my reason. Accordingly Clymene continu'd to love Lysicrates in spight of her own resolutions; that which sustain'd her passion was, that Lysicra∣tes some days spoke to her with as much love as ever he had done. Indeed it was sufficiently sel∣dom that he discours'd with her in private, for he had always so many affairs, that he ever began to speak to her with these words, I have but one mo∣ment to spend with you, or two at most, I have not leasure to tell you any thing; or some such like expressions. Things being in these terms, there was a great assembly, wherein Clymene was oblig'd to be present; whereupon, desiring to ap∣pear handsome there, that Lysicrates might see she deserv'd his affection, she omitted no ornaments that might render her more amiable: And indeed, she out-shin'd the beauty of all the other fair ones, and so pleas'd the Prince that he spoke not to any Lady but Clymene; not but that the Prince had heard Lysicrates was amorous of her; but he beheld him so assiduously at Court, that he thought it was no very violent Love. Clymene who beheld the Prince's civility towards her, in∣terpreted it at first as an indulgence to his Favo∣rite; but at the end of the Ball, when he enter∣tain'd her a part, she chang'd her opinion; for af∣ter having given her a thousand praises, I find you so charming (said he to her) that I cannot but wonder at the assiduous attendance of Lysicrates at Court; for had I such a Mistriss as you, assu∣redly my Master, if I had any, should be worse serv'd than I am by him. Clymene blush'd at the Prince's discourse, and answer'd to it with so much wit, that she seem'd to him still more fair. So, that having his fancy fill'd with the Idaea of her he spoke of none but Clymene all the rest of the evening. He likewise spoke to Lysicrates concern¦ing her, with earnestness; but in case (said he to him in the presence of a friend of Clymene's, who inform'd her of it the next morning) I should

maugre all my reluctancy, become amorous of your Mistress, and if you saw me ready to die for love, would you be generous enough to yield her to me, and not hate me? No doubt (answer'd the ambitious Lysicrates) I should be very unhappy, if that should come to pass, but however, my Lord, (added he) it would be so great an honor to Cly∣mene, that, her interest consider'd, together with the respect I have for you, I think I should resign her to you; and that your happiness, and that of this fair person, would comfort me for my infelici∣ty. Lysicrates spoke this with so free an air, that it was perceivable he spoke his real sentiments: whereupon the Prince, who till then had lookt upon the inclination he had for Clymene, as a thing he was to oppose, with the friendship he bare to Lysicrates, now perceiving Clymene not so deeply fix'd in his heart as he imagin'd, flatter'd his be∣ginning passion so sweetly, that having seen Cly∣mene five or six times in a very few days, he be∣came infinitely amorous of her; for he is a Prince whose passions are violent, during which he is not scrupulous of doing any thing to content them. In the mean time Clymene understanding what Lysi∣crates had answer'd the Prince, became extream∣ly exasperated in her mind, though she dissembled her discontent. Indeed within a little time she had occasion to discover it; for the Prince's passion being grown too great to be kept in his own brest, he discover'd it to his Rival, before he made it known to his Mistriss; but it was in such powerful terms, that Lysicrates saw clearly he must either lose Clymene, or his fortune; wherefore not sticking a moment what choice to make in this difficulty, he told the Prince, he sacrific'd all his pleasures to him, that he would be his confident, and intercede with Clymene for him: And the truth is, Lysicrates, who had always oqserv'd Cly∣mene to have a very great mind, imagin'd the hope of marrying the Prince, would cause her to approve his action; not considering that sometimes there is more grandeur of courage in despising fortune, than in seeking it. Yet he did not absolutely resolve to renounce the affection of Clymene, but intended to make it serviceable to him, for the further augmenting of his greatness and wealth. In which thoughts he went to visit her when ha∣ving desir'd a private conference with her, and seeming more sad than he was, he prepar'd her mind with much address to hear some unwelcome matter, which he seem'd to be very loth to tell her. Clemene immediately believ'd his business was to inform her, that the Prince intended to marry him to one of his Cosins, who was a very rich young Lady; but at length he told her the end of his visit was to acquaint her that his Ma∣ster was his Rival; not but that (said he to her) I am generous enough to sacrifice all my joy to your good fortune; and after having been your slave, am willing to become your subject; for I doubt not but if you menage the Prince's love well, he will at length sufficiently affect you to make you his bride; but indeed I find it no easie matter for one to deprive himself of that which he loves, how generous soever he be. 'Tis true (ad∣ded he) our affection has been always so innocent, that it might subsist all our lives; at least I know I shall be always a devoted servant to the fair Clymene, and no change shall ever happen in my heart: It shall not be so on my part (answer'd she hastily) for I declare to you, I will never be yours; however, think not 'tis out of any purpose to menage the Prince's love, as you speak. I hate ambition, which has driven me out of your heart, too much to receive it into my own, and you ac∣casion me so to contemn all men in general, that I believe it not possible for me ever to esteem one particular person. Do not expect therefore that I should confirm your fortune; for all I can do, is only to contrive how to ruine it; and if any thing could induce me to admit of the Prince's love, it should be only the opportunity of bring∣ing you into disfavor with him. But to speak truth, I look upon you as sufficiently punisht, by being no longer in favor with me, and therefore I shall not seek a revenge which would fall upon my self; for in the sentiments I am in, I abhor the love of any whatsoever. I intend now to love nothing but solitude, and I hope to live more contentedly in it, than you will do at Court with all your fa∣vour; for where there is private satisfaction and pleasure, there needs not much care to be taken for the favor or disfavor of those that are in go∣vernment: But to do you a good office this last time, know that all those who flatter you, deceive you, that they whom you take to be most your friends, are envious and disguised enemies, that all those who see you think themselves better en∣titled by desert to the Prince's favor, than you; that as soon as you are turn'd out of favor, you will find your self left alone by all your party, and that there was only Clymene in the World, that could not desert you in adversity. But since you forsook her as soon as you were a favorite, she takes her turn to abandon you, and casts you off for ever. Therefore hinder the Prince from coming to speak to me of his pretended passion; for looking upon him as a man that loves one whom I ought to hate, it would be difficult for me to preserve the respect which I owe unto his quality. Lysicrates hereupon offered to swear to Clymene, that he was sorry his Master was his Rival, that he had not spoke to him as he did, but only not to incense his passion; and that as for her, since she was suf∣ficiently generous, not to be flatter'd with the hope of marrying the Prince, he desir'd nothing of her, but to act with such address, that he might be cur'd of his passion, without occasioning a breach between them. Whereby Clymene always percei∣ving his Ambition superior to his Love, became so incens'd, that she absolutely commanded him to depart; which accordingly he was enforc'd to do. Not long after which, I went to give her a vi∣sit, and I assure you I never beheld a person more discontented and enraged. As it fell out cru∣elly for her, the Prince came to see her the same day; when being still disturb'd in mind, she spoke to him with a resoluteness that surpriz'd him, for as soon as he began to tell her he lov'd her, and would love her eternally, I beseech you my Lord (said she to him) forbear to engage me in a de∣sign which can never give you any satisfaction. For though I appear gentle and am so really, yet I have an inexpugnable constancy to remain in the resolution which I have taken; by reason of which it would be impossible for you to perswade me, that I ought to admit of your affection. 'Tis enough that Fortune has plac'd you above me, to cause

me to suspect all your discourse: and I am so much a friend to equality, that since you have advanc'd Lysicrates, I can no longer look upon him as for∣merly. I love Merit and Virtue, but I love them principally without splendor, and without being set off by any thing else, which prepossesses my judgement; Leave me therefore, my Lord, as a person who accounts it a glory to be an enemy to ambition: you will find a thousand who will love your fortune more than your worth, and receive that with joy which I refuse with respect. How ever, upon the account of equity, I am oblig'd to tell you, that Lysicrates has spoken so well of you to me, that he has wholly ruin'd himself in my opinion. After which, my Lord, desire no more of me; for it would be to no effect. Clymene spoke this with an air, that so wel manifested to the Prince that she lov'd Lysicrates, was incapable of ambiti∣on, and could not love him, that his heart being not yet so strongly engag'd, but that he might hope to disingage it, he spoke to her with very much ci∣vility, and like a man that would owe nothing to his high condition. But at length, said he to her, after many other things, The favour which I re∣quest of you, is, that you will continue to love Lysicrates; or if you cannot do that, that you will permit me to hope, that perhaps you will one day love me. These two things which you demand, my Lord (answer'd she) are not in my power; for I find that I shall hate Lysicrates, and I see no appearance that I can or ought ever to love any. After this the Prince departed: The same night she intreated me to require of Lysicrates, all the Letters she had written to him, and charg'd me to deliver to him all those she had receiv'd from him, and to assure him she contemn'd him as much as she had esteem'd him, and wish'd, with all her heart, she could as much hate him, as she had formerly lov'd him. But, my dear Clymene (said I to her) are you well assur'd that Lysicrates will restore you your heart, when he gives you back your Letters? go not so fast, I beseech you? and take time to ex∣amine your self. Ah! no, no, (answer'd she) I will never, while I live, love a man who loves Fortune better than me, who can love me without ever thinking to render our destiny inseparable, who can even sacrifice me to his Master, and be a confident to his Rival. The heart of Clymene is too tender, too sensible, and too generous, to suf∣fer such indignities. I had much rather be always miserable; the little wealth I have is an ordinary effect of the blindness of Fortune, which is not op∣probrious to me; but were I so poor-spirited, as to pardon Lysicrates, it might be reproacht to me eternally. Clymene thus continuing firm in this re∣solution, oblig'd her Aunt, over whom she had a great influence, to go the next morning into the Countrey. For my part I went to Lysicrates, in whom I found such a combat of contrary thoughts, that I could not but commiserate him; for he lov'd Clymene still, but ambition was always most pow∣erful in his heart; and though he were still a Lo∣ver, yet it was not with his first ardor, and conse∣quently Clymene could not be satisfy'd with it, be∣cause all diminution of Love is a crime. He made some difficulty to restore me her Letters, but at length he deliver'd them, and receiv'd his own. Since that time the Prince has chang'd his senti∣ments, and Lysicrates has continu'd ambitious, and caus'd his Love to yield to another passion. Ne∣vertheless he offer'd two or three times to do some∣thing for the Fortune of Clymene, but she gene∣rously refus'd him. So she has spent a whole year in the Countrey, busying her self sometimes in Reading, sometimes in Painting, and sometimes in Walking: She loves Gardens and Flowers, and and an universal sentiment of goodness causes her to divert her self with keeping Birds, and divers rare and domestick Animals, which afford amuse∣ment to her Melancholly. Yet she is come at length to have only an indifference for Lysi∣crates, so that she is as fair as ever, and something more amiable; for a little cast of melancholly, makes her countenance charming and sweet, that the sight of it cannot but ravish.

Your relation concerning Clymene (answer'd Hesiode) gives me extream contentment, and I shall have cause of complaint against you, unless you bring it some way to pass, that I may see her. Yet I am very sorry she hates ambition, for I con∣fess to you, I am born naturally ambitious. My reason tells me, that ambition is the foundation of all great actions; that without it there would be no Heroes, and scarce any eminent virtues; but however, I absolutely contemn Lysicrates, be∣cause I am not of opinion, that Love and Ambi∣tion, are two Passions incompatible. I conceive a man's love may make him ambitious, as in some cases he may become amorous through ambition: Had Lysicrates been an ambitious person, honou∣rably and worthily, he would have shared his for∣tune with the fair Clymene, and not changed his sentiments by changing his life. But in fine, (ad∣ded he) I am resolved to see her, and though I should go to visit her alone, I will go and do it before three days be expir'd. Belintha making some difficulty to carry him to her, he went alone to see the charming Clymene. But it fell out, by chance, that Belintha was there the same day; for it being a journey but of two hours, she frequent∣ly made visits to her, though she design'd no such matter in the morning. And Hesiode also desirous to make a secret to her of his design to see Cly∣mene, till he should have executed it, acquainted her not at all with it. When he arriv'd at the place where Clymene was, her Aunt was gone to make a visit to some of her neighbors, and her self was seated amongst the Willows, upon the bank of a River, and was reading that Work of Hesiode, where he makes a Nightingale speak to a Sparrow. A Virgin that waited upon Clymene, was at work in making a collar of several sorts of Rib∣bons, wreathed together, for a very handsome Dog, which Clymene much affected, and which then lay negligently upon the bottom of her Robe, which by chance was stretcht upon the grass. At Hesiods's approach, Clymene's Dog rose up; but instead of barking at the sight of him as a stranger, the pret∣ty creature, by that instinct which makes brutes know those that love or hate them, went to fawn upon him, who answering his kindness, the first thing Clymene beheld, was Hesiode stroking her lit∣tle Dog; for though it was a very long time since she had seen him, yet knowing that he was at Lo∣cri, she soon was ascertain'd it was he, wherefore rising up, and advancing towards him very civilly, I think (said she to him smiling) this Animal, who is of a kind that was never accus'd of ingrati∣tude,

would help me by his carresses to acknow∣ledge the pleasure you have given me this day by the Verses you have made, the reading of which has been so delightful to me, that I was reading them the third time, when you arrived. I am extreamly proud (answered Hesiode) of being able to entertain you in your solitude, and I draw no unhappy presage, from seeing that an Animal you love, has already begun to love me. If Belintha were here, (replyed Clymene) she would blame you for the complement you make me; for she so much decryes my too great affection towards brutes, that she would venture to maintain, you have a blind complacence which would pervert me. She had scarce spoke these words, but Be∣lintha came thither, who having left her Chariot in the out-court, went to the place where it was told her Clymene was. You come very opportunely, (said this fair Virgin to her) to hinder Hesiode from being perplexed; but why did not you come to gether. For my part (answered Belintha) I knew nothing of Hesiode's journey, and he has made a secret of it to me. After your having had the cruelty (replyed Hesiode) to refuse to bring me hither, I did not think I ought to tell you my design, for fear you should make use of the credit you have in this place to prevent my admission. In truth (said Belintha, obliging them to walk) you are to be blamed for coming to see Clymene, for she is the most unjust person in the World, in preferring her Desart before her friends. And moreover, (added she smiling) I am to advertize you, that with all your merit you shall never be so much loved by Clymene as that Dog which you see. Hesiode (answered this fair Virgin smiling) shall certainly not have so great a share in my caresses, but he has sufficient in my esteem to be satisfied, and I thank him for bringing in a Nightingale, and a Sparrow, speaking together in one of his Works; for 'tis assuredly a sign, that he is not in the error wherein you are, to the disadvantage of all Animals in the World, to whom you are so much, an enemy, that you go about to take from them that little beam of light the gods have given them, which guides them so exactly in things that are profitable or delightful to them, and gives them this prerogative above men, that there is never any ingratitude in their hearts. Acknow∣ledgment is found in those of Lyons, and no question would be too in those of Tygers, if they were gently us'd: caresses and benefits are never lost amongst the most savage Animals, but frequently amongst Men. Dissimulation and de∣ceit are scarce ever found amongst brutes, and if they have subtilty, 'tis only to avoid dangers, or seek wherewith to subsist. It seems (said Be∣lintha with a low voice) one single ingrateful Man makes you judge all Animals acknowledging; but however (added she aloud) though Hesiode were of your opinion, I should not disclaim my own, nor hinder my self from decrying the in∣clination you have to love brutes. For that you may not mistake, (continued she speaking to He∣siode) you must know that if Clymene were even amorous of any one, she could not resolve to give him a beast which she loved; and if at any time you would be assured of her heart, desire her Dog of her, and you shall see whither it will not be more hard to obtain the one than the other. You speak very excellently, (replyed Clymene) in com∣paring my Heart and my Dog together; yet I am not offended at it, (added she) for they are both faithful and can love well. But are you not asham∣ed (said Belintha) to attribute Reason and Friend∣ship to beasts? But do not you deceive your self, (said Clymene) when you will not know, that a little Bird, who makes its nest very proportiona∣bly, is more ingenious than a hundred dull Men whom I know, and that a poor Dog, who follows me every where, and moans when I forbid him, has more friendship then a Man who is obliged with nothing, and who injures all those whom he ought to serve. For my part (said Hesiode then) I confess I could willingly amuse my self in obser∣ving the Reason of Beasts, if it be fit so to term that Light which Nature has given them; and I am also sensible of their kindness. I have always observed (answered Clymene) that cruel Men hate Beasts, and usually good persons love them, or at least, cannot endure any hurt should be done them. But as for ambitious people, who are so satisfied with themselves, and cannot think but of great things, they take no care to observe the Neast of a Swallow, to admire the labor of Pismires, the sing∣ing of Nightingales, the love of Turtles, and the kindness of Dogs, nor to amuse and divert them∣selves innocently with the caresses of these poor Animals, whose felicity is so easily accomplisht. For it suffices to that of my Dog, that he suffer not hunger, that he find a little Brook to drink at, that he lye upon the corner of my Robe, and that I make much of him. He comes not but when I will, he goes away when I please, he is silent when I think good; if I chide him, he does not remember it a moment after, and is not less ready to caress me. Judge therefore I beseech you, whither that person would not be happy, that should find another whose heart were so tractable. But however, (replyed Belintha) I cannot suffer that that should be called Reason in Beasts, which is only a blind instinct, and makes them act whither they will or no. Ah! my dear Belintha, (answered Clymene) how noxious is the power of choice of∣tentimes unto us, and that supream Reason which arrogates so much to it self, and makes no account of instinct, but causes us to commit faults, against Virtue, and even against our own pleasures. 'Tis certain, (said Hesiode) that the power of choice occasions all the errors of Men, and that at least brutes have this advantage in their misery, that they precisely know every thing that is fit for them. Some avoid heat, and seek cold: others flee cold, and follow heat, without any variety in their kind: but as for men, though they are born and dye alike, and that considering them in them∣selves, it seems they have need only of the same things to be happy; yet it is certain, that their reason, which is various according to their dif∣ferent tempers, is oftentimes that which causes the happiness of one, and makes the infelicity of another, and they apprehend things so different∣ly, that they agree neither in reference to the gods which they adore, nor the Laws which they fol∣low, nor vices, nor virtues, nor even in their pe∣culiar pleasures. 'Tis not so with Animals; that which is good to one Nightingale, is good to all the Nightingales of the World; all fierce beasts have need of Dens; all Neasts of Swallows are alike,

there is no different architecture in them, and eve∣ry species of animals has an immutable reason that governs it (as I may so speak) which plea∣ses and charms me: for amongst us every one makes himself a reason after his own mode, so that when we would find out true reason among so ma∣ny different reasons, 'tis a very difficult task. You speak admirably well (answered Clymene) for a discreet man who flies the World, and an ambiti∣ous man who pursues it, may both have Wit in∣deed, however differently they reason. This pro∣ceeds (replyed Belintha) for that men are as diffe∣rent amongst themselves as Animals are in their kinds, and there is oftentimes as great a dissimi∣litude between one man and another, as between a bird of prey and a Turtle, so that every one must reason according to himself, and not according to another.

But however, it must be acknowledged, that humane reason has something very noble and sub∣lime in it, by attempting to raise its knowledge even to the Heavens, and to the Center of the Earth, and he that shall consider the infinite num∣ber of profitable and delightful Arts which men have invented, the great number of Sciences whereof they are capable, the wise Laws which they have made, the different Ornaments which they have brought into the World, will laugh at the Neasts of Swallows, the labour of Bees, and the Husbandry of Pismires. I confess (answered Hesiode) that the reason of men is worthy of ad∣miration for its vast extent, that considering it in it self, that half-reason of animals is but obscuri∣t•• in comparison; but to speak truth, the bad Use men make of it astonishes me, and causes the pos∣session of so great a good to seem less advantageous to me, since 'tis so difficult to imploy it aright. And on the contrary, beasts scarce ever make any bad use of that light which nature has given them. 'Tis true, (said Clymene) there was never any Honey, but what was sweet, nor Pismires which did not providently labour, nor Swallows which made Neasts after different manners. But it is not so with men; for they will not so much as build their Houses alike. There is many times folly in their buildings, when they make them too mag∣nificent for their own condition▪ On the other side, beasts who can content themselves with things necessary, and can make and proportionate them to their own uses, ought to make men blush, whose reason cannot bound their desires, whose natural incapacity stands in need of instructors, experience, examples, and practice, for the know∣ledge of the least of those things which are neces∣sary; whereas the most stupid of all animals have that within themselves which is sufficient for them, without intermeddling with that which does not belong to them. Bees and Butterflies take from flowers that which is convenient for their respective uses, without offering to oppose one another; they have not set limits to their Em∣pire; all the Lillies and Roses of the Spring are to them in common; and men with that sublime reason which renders them Masters of the World, have establisht War in it by establishing the Laws which divide the Universe. They have brought all kind of Vices into it, by the many inventions subservient to pleasure; they have made all the miseries which are in the World, by looking up∣on ambition as a lawful thing, since without it all men would be in peace; and in brief, they have introduced all the unhappinesses of which they complain, although the gods have enriched the Universe wherewith to render them all happy. Who would think (interrupted Belintha smiling) that the love Clymene has for this poor little Dog which you see follows her, and understands nothing of what she says, should cause her to speak such hand∣some things, and that after so serious a manner? who could imagine, that a person who has so much Wit, should take pleasure in trifling with a Dog? I have already told you (answered Clymene) that the love of beasts is a sign of gentleness and hu∣manity, and that it is cruelty to do them harm: but I add also, that all that loves is amiable, that all that insinuates it self with kindness, deserves to be ingratiated, that that which has no ingratitude deserves to be well treated, and that since it is not forbidden to love Flowers, Fountains, and Statues, it may well be lawful to love cheerful and pretty animals which love you, and divert you, without ever doing you any harm. But in brief, (replyed Belintha) 'tis not our purpose to extoll the demy∣reason of brutes, and condemn the use of the rea∣son of men; but only to know whether Amity, which is the most precious thing in the World, and which ought to be the greatest recompence of the most considerable services, and the most noble prize of merit and virtue, ought to be em∣ployed in loving a little Dog. I am willing (added she) humanity should be exercis'd toward beasts, that no mischief be done them, and that people delight themselves with them if they please; but I would not have them loved with the same kind∣ness wherewith we loved mankind, and which ought to be so precious, that it ought not to be given to friends, without well examining whether or no they be worthy of it. As for me (answe∣red Clymene smiling) who have not found amongst men whereon to employ my affection conveniently, I must love where I can love without fearing to be deceived. 'Tis not (added she) that I grant I love my Dog with the same kindness wherewith I should love a Friend. But for that, all afflictions mankind is capable of, have the same original all arising out of the heart, Belintha is pleased to confound my kindness to brutes with my true friendship, and thereupon to inveigh against me without any just ground. The fair Clymene (said Hesiode) speaks her reasons so agreeably, that in∣stead of condemning her, I wish I were not what I am, and had the honor to be hers in what man∣ner soever. Endeavor then (answered Belintha) to be her friend if you can, and do not wish to be her Dog, for then I should infallably hate you. Ah! cruel Belintha (cryed he with some earnest∣ness) I believe it is difficult to be no more than the Friend of Clymene. Did you say, (answered that fair Virgin) it were no easie thing to gain my friendship, you would have reason; for contrary to my natural humor, I am become the most distrustful person in the World, and in my pre∣sent sentiments I give no credit to words, nor cares, nor services; I know not well whether I should trust time, which they say discovers the most concealed truths. Therefore 'tis better to leave me in my Desart to hear my Nightingales. Perhaps

(replyed Belintha smiling) you may hear complaints in it as sweet as theirs; for Hesiode sings at least as well as they, and I see he beholds you with so much pleasure, and hears you with so great admi∣ration, that I cannot assure but that he loves you a little too much already. I perceive (said Cly∣mene) you have a design to jest, but yet I must tell you that when I saw Hesiode the first time upon the Banks of Hippocrene, he loved me a little, in less time than since his arrival. I confess it, (an∣swered Hesiode) and I should certainly have always you loved, if I had always seen you. But Madam, your Fortune calling you elsewhere, and mine re∣taining me then at Helicon, I forsook you for the love of glory, which I have always since ardently affected. You see (replyed Clymene, looking to∣wards Belintha) it is my Destiny to loose my Con∣quests by ambition. Glory and Ambition (answe∣red Hesiode) are not wholly alike. However, (said Clymene) I am very glad you are cured, and that I understand it from your own mouth. He∣siode blusht at this discourse, and going to answer to Clymene, he could not contain from saying with a great sigh,

O gods! what is't I speak? Alass! in speaking it, a sigh do's from me break. And secret trouble from my passion grown Tells me, my heart no longer is my own.

As soon as Hesiode had spoken these Verses of Clymene, which he had remembred since Belintha shewed him them, he became much perplexed; but he found them so exact an answer, to that which Clymene had said to him, and they agreed so well with his thoughts, by changing only one word, that he could not hinder himself from utte∣ring them. Nevertheless Clymene and Belintha both blusht when they heard them. The first looked upon her friend with indignation, and up∣on Hesiode with confusion; and Belintha on the contrary beheld Hesiode with anger, and Clymene with shame. Hesiode for his part lookt upon Be∣lintha as if he desired her pardon, and upon Cly∣mene with much love. But at length Belintha desiring to pacifie her friend, began to speak gently to her, and beseeched her to suspend her choller till she had heard her. And according∣ly she told her of the accident of the Letter which Hesiode had seen, and which ingaged her though unwillingly to tell him what she knew concernicg the love of Lysicrates, which Hesiode could not but have learnt otherwise from a hundred persons. I grant what you say (answered Clymene) but in telling Hesiode what he would have kown from others, there was no need of shewing him the Verses, which no person ever saw besides your self. Your having made them so amorous (replyed she) caused me to think, that by shewing them to Hesiode when I was speaking of Lysicrates, I should give him the greater aversion against him. But however (added she) I will make my peace with you, and am only troubled how Hesiode will make his with me. By desiring your pardon (an∣swered he) and acknowledging to you ingeni∣ously, that the excellent Verses of Clymene, so well expressed my thoughts, that I could not con∣tain from speaking them; for if I should have studied all my life, I could not have made any so pertinent. I perceive (said Clymene smiling) that though I am offended with both of you, pru∣dence obliges me to pardon you equally, and to reingratiate you together; for if I should be angry in good earnest, Belintha would perhaps shew my Verses to all the World, and possibly Hesiode might think I took that seriously, which he has spoken meerly in a frolick: Wherefore I declare to you, that I pardon you, on condition you will never speak of those Verses to any person whatsoever, nor to me as long as you live. Though it be suf∣ficiently difficult (answered Hesiode) to forbear commending them, yet provided you do not for∣bid me to speak of you and my self, I consent never to speak to you of any thing else. After this Clymene handsomely diverting the conversati∣on, obliged them to change their discourse, and betake themselves to walk in several delightful pla∣ces. In the mean time, evening drawing on, Be∣lintha commanded her Chariot to be brought thi∣ther. 'Tis I (said Hesiode) that ought first to think of departing, for I promised the Prince to be with him again very betimes; but to speak truth, 'tis easie to forget things in the presence of Clymene. I know not (answered she) whether you forgot the Prince whilst you are with me, but I am assu∣red you will forget me when you are with the Prince; for the Court is a place, wherein people usually think of nothing but what they see, and absent persons are little dreamt of. You have reason (replyed Belintha smiling) but for such an absent as you are, I believe you are thought of every where. Our language is so rich and copi∣ous, (answered Clymene) that it was not necessa∣ry to make a new word to flatter me with. If I may judge of the sentiments of Belintha by my own (said Hesiode) she has reason to invent new words to tell you what she thinks; at least I know none that can express what I think of you. Af∣ter this, Hesiode gave the hand to Belintha to lead her into her Chariot, and without remembring what he had said before concerning his promise, to be back early with the Prince; or considering that he might go faster on horseback than with Belintha, he desired of her a place in her Chariot, that he might have as he said, at least the pleasure to speak concerning Clymene, after his departure from her; and accordingly he went with this amiable Lady. During the way, he spoke of no∣thing but Clymene; sometimes he extolled her beauty, sometimes he admired her wit, he was charmed with her sweet deportment and modesty, the tenderness of her heart pleased him above all things, and he could not conceive how it was possible Lysicrates could cease to love her; for I have a heart (said he) as ambitious as he; but I conceive if I had been in his place, ambition could not have destroyed my love, which would have been more ardent in a great, than a mean for tune. If you become amorous of Clymene (an∣swered Belintha) we shall see how you will act. I assure you, (replyed Hesiode) I will not examine what I have in my heart for Clymene, for fear of finding in it that which would be little advanta∣geous unto me, if it should be in any great mea∣sure, for I know 'tis much more difficult to en∣gage an intelligent person to love the second time than the first, especially when the former Love

proved unfaithful: and therefore I am resolved to visit Clymene, as seldome as possible: for I have never had any true sentiments of love, but when I beheld her upon the Bank of Hippocrene, and when I saw her this day. In truth, it must needs have been love that caused me to repeat so preci∣pitously and imprudently, the Verses which I remembred; for I was never before reproached for the least indiscretion. I would not (said Be∣lintha) that you were very amorous of Clymene, for we ought never to desire evil to our friends: But I wish you had perswaded Clymene to come a little oftner to the City, and to desist from so obstinate a love of sollitude. Clymene seemed so lovely (answered he) that I believe if I saw her often enough to presume to perswade her not to hate the World so much, she might oblige me to prefer the desart she inhabits above all things; for I confess to you, I was never so much taken with any person as with Clymene. See her no more then (replyed Belintha) for it would be too much to loose you, after having lost her. In this man∣ner Hesiode and Belintha entertained themselves, till they arrived at the City. Whither, as soon as they were come, Hesiode went to wait upon the Prince, who chid him very obligingly, as also Lysicrates did, for returning so late contrary to his promise. And the Prince having caused him to be diligently sought for, understood that he was gone to Clymene's house, though Hesiode in∣tended to keep it secret from Belintha. Upon which taking occasion of pleasant raillery upon him, they very much surprised him. Do you know (said the Prince of Locri to him) that I had the most violent beginning of love for Clymene, that ever person had? and that if she had managed the inclination I had for her, there is nothing so difficult but she might have obliged me to, if she had pleased? but her coldness towards me, time, and reason, have cured me. As for Lysicrates, who loved her extreamly, and was not hated by her, I am perswaded the respect he had for me; obliged him to renounce a passion, which is suffi∣ciently incompatible with all other kinds of oblige∣ment. I did not think, my Lord answered He∣siode coldly) that reason and friendship were re∣medies for love; at least, I am assured they would never cure me, if I were amorous. But are not you Clymene's servant already? (said the Prince.) No doubt (answered Hesiode) I have much admi∣ration for her; but as for love, I conceive none would dare to become amorous of that which you have loved. But on the contrary, (replyed the Prince) your passion would afford me contentment for I am perswaded you have so curious a judg∣ment, that your weakness would justifie that of mine. Perhaps, my Lord (said Hesiode) Lysicra∣tes would not be of your opinion. I assure you, (answered the ambitious Lysicrates) that the plea∣sures of the Prince are so dear to me, that being perswaded the love you have for Clymene, would excite you to make more Verses to divert it, I should counsel you to it, though I could still be your rival; but as the Prince was pleased to say, the purpose of confining my self inseparably to his service, has absolutely drawn me off from Cly∣mene. Since it is so (said Hesiode smiling) for the future I shall not defend my self against the charms of Clymene, and give up the reins to my own in∣clination, in spight of the resistance of my reason. After this, the Prince and Lysicrates diverted to other discourse; but Hesiode did not cease to think of Clymene, when he ceased to speak of her, an∣as long as the evening lasted, he could not with draw his fancy from her. The next morning he made Verses upon her, the day after he sent to know her condition, and writ her a very gallant Letter, which she answered with much civility, though in a manner which signified, she had no desire to renew familiarity with the World, and would not discourse half of her Wit, though there appeared very much whether she would or no. Some days after, Belintha and Hesiode returned to the house of Clymene's Aunt, who received them very well, and promised them that assoon as win∣ter began to make the Countrey naked, she would carry Clymene to the City. Whereupon Hesiode at his return, composed very handsome Verses, wherein he prayed Winter to hasten, to appear with his Isicles, and conjured Autumn to make speed away; he wisht the spring would be slow in coming, to the end winter might continue the longer: He introduced the several pleasures of all the seasons, and beseeched those which are peculiar to winter, to draw Clymene to the City, and re∣tain her there so long as they could. Have a care said he, (with all the gracefulness that Poetry gives to this sort of things) of suffering your selves to be driven away too soon by the pleasures of the spring, which would carry her away from us to the Countrey; for these pleasures are not, in truth, but the pleasures of shepherds and shepherdesses, whereas you are really magnificent: pleasures which serve Princes and Kings, and assembling all worthy persons to the same places, have a thousand advantages above all those other half-savage plea∣sures, which have need of rivers, gardens, and fountains, to make them delightful. Then ad∣dressing again to winter, he exhorted him not to hurt the youth and beauty of the spring. assuring him, that whilst Clymene and he should be toge∣ther, no person would think of desiring the sea∣son of roses. But though these Verses were ex∣cellent, Hesiode did not publish them, but shewed them only to two or three persons; for perceiving his affection to Clymene growing very ardent, and come to a good degree already, and being not ig∣norant that a publick love is a love without plea∣sure, he kept secret all the compositions which he made upon this fair virgin; by which means there is none of them seen in the collection made of his Works, of which many other things also are lost. One thing was remarkable, that the same day he sent the Verses to Clymene, which he addres∣sed to winter, the Sky was clouded, the wind became violent, and blew off most of the leaves of the trees, as if Winter had began that very day, and granted Hesiod's request. And accordingly the following days hapning to be more foul, Clymene being deprived of the bene∣fit of walking, was constrained to return to the City with her Aunt. But though she was resolved to fly all the World as much as she could, yet be∣ing unwilling to appear too rustick, she could not avoid being seen by all the honorable persons of the Court. The Prince himself made her a visit, and carryed Lysicrates with him; but the Prince's heart being then affected towards another person; he beheld her without love, and spoke of his for∣mer

passion, as if he had spoken to a Friend. As for Lysicrates, no doubt he could not see her with∣out being troubled; but she treated him with so cold and fierce an aspect, and he was always so ambitious, that it may be said, what he resented then, was rather shame and perplexity, than love. But thence forward he never saw her, except in the presence of the Prince, and by consequence very rarely. The case was otherwise with He∣siode, who thought himself well in no other place; for though the Prince and Lysicrates could not live without him, he could not live longer with them, because he could not live longer without Clymene. This very much perplexed him, for being the Fa∣vorite of the Favorite, who made use of him to be with the Prince, when himself could not, he had always a hundred businesses to do, which in∣stead of being delightful to him as formerly, were then insupportable, because all that hindered him from seeing Clymene, was distastful to him. At first, ambition offered to oppose it self to this passi∣on in his heart, but it was already so violent, that changing his sentiments in few days, he thought of nothing which took up his whole mind before, and derided his former ambition. How obliged am I to Clymene, (said he one day to one of his inti∣mate Friends for having cured me of a Passion, whose pleasures are always unquiet, and for have∣ing given me another whose torments are ever agreeable. I must have lost my reason, could I have thought it possible to be happy with good fortune only. For indeed, provided a Man be content, what matters it whether it be in a Cottage or a Pa∣lace. Things without us, are not those which give true satisfaction, but the sentiments of the heart; so that since I look upon Clymene as a per∣son who alone can make my felicity, and whose beauty, wit, and virtue, are of greater value than all the treasures of the World, wherefore should I confound my self in seeking happiness by other ways. Riches are things which are not desired, but to have several others; but the possession of a person whom we love passionately, and with rea∣son, is satisfactory of it self. I confess to you (said his friend to him) that I find true wisdom, in that which you say; but that which amuses me, is, that thing of things, which you did not dream of a few days since. And yet you are not much improved in Wit in that time. I grant it, (replyed Hesiode) but I have more Love, and contrary to the custom of that passion, which often enough in∣jures Reason, it fortifies mine, and makes me know, that ambition is for the most part rather a weakness than a true greatness of Soul. If a Man could by just ways become Master of all the favors that a great Prince can confer, I conceive generosity would require him to endeavor to frame himself to do good to others; but however, I know not whether Reason would oblige him to put his Virtue to so difficult a proof. The danger is, (added he) that a man whose inclinations are very liberal when he is in credit, may sometimes be carried to some injustice by a principal of Virtue, and be as unjust as one that is covetous, to the end to obtain wherewith to be prodigal; but though this should not be, yet he is always lyable to be accused. All miserable persons believe, if they were in the places of those who are happy, they should do admirable things. In the mean time we see the greatest part of those whom fortune has raised, use their happiness ill, and forget their past infelicities, for fear of having pitty of those of others. I could never have believ'd, (said Hesiode's Confident) your Love could have so well taught you morality. You deride me (an∣swered Hesiode) but did you know what sweet∣ness I feel being free from ambition, you would judge I have cause to hold my self extreamly ob∣liged to Clymene. Alas! my dear Hesiode, (reply∣ed he) A person that begins to love, sees only de∣lightful things, hope renders all easie, he is so glad that he loves, and so delighted only in think∣ing that he may be loved again, that his heart aban∣dons it self to joy, without having cause to do so, but if you continue to love Clymene, you will soon tell me other news. Do not doubt, my dear friend, (said Hesiode) whether I shall conti∣nue to love Clymene, for I find I shall love her till death, and I take no other care but to be loved, again by her. To which purpose Hesiode omitted nothing that might conduce, of all the diligen∣ces which an ingenious, amorous, and gallant per∣son is capable of using, when he designs to be be∣loved. But though Clymene esteem'd him infinite∣ly, notwithstanding her reluctancy (for the de∣sired to hate all men, and lived with such reser∣vedness that there was no reasonable ground to hope to become happy) yet its true, hope so easi∣ly arises in the heart of a Lover, who loves ar∣dently, that he can never absolutely despair: be∣sides, Belintha loving Clymene very dearly, could have wished she did not hate Hesiode, to the end she might have loved her Desart less; and more∣over, having much kindness for Hesiode, she could have been glad that the love he had for Clymene, would more straitly have confined him to Locri, than he was by the favors of the Prince and Lysicrates, who being always desirous to establish himself more in the reputation he was in, was not unwilling to fasten Hesiode to his interests, to the end he might converse with the Prince, and have a faithful friend to accompany him in all his pleasures, when he could not himself. But this was so far from giving Hesiode contentment at that time, that he was disgusted with it, and ambition became so weakned in his heart, that he resented no other than that of being loved. He had also so great a contempt of Lysicrates, in regard of what had passed between him and Clymene, that if prudence had not with-held him, he had re∣jected his friendship; for he not only un∣dervalued all the agreeable qualities of Lysi∣crates, but hated him, as if it had been him∣self that had been offended by him. Yet he per∣ceived this sentiment was something strange; for said he, one day to himself, though unworthiness may be found in the procedure of Lysicrates, yet it does not concern me to hate him; for if he were not guilty of this crime, he would be loved and happy, and I a thousand times more miserable than I am. 'Tis not added he, but that he contributes to my unhappiness another way, for he is the cause that all men are suspected by Clymene, and that she defends her heart against me, as she would do against him, if he should attempt to reconquer it. However, I ought not to despair, though I have no cause of hope given me: for as it is out of a sentiment of glory, that Clymene hates Lysicrates,

so its possible out of a sentiment of equity, she may love a man who is totally contrary unto him. In the mean time, though Hesiode visited Clymene ry often, there was scarce any besides she, that understood he had no more ambition; for he fre∣quently attended upon the Prince too, and Lysi∣crates, and deported himself so prudently, that there was none but Clymene and Belintha, who ob∣served the great passion he had in his Soul. So that Antiphanes, and Ganetor, Clymene's Brothers, looking upon him as a person that was much re∣spected by the Prince and his Favorite, went to see him every day, and testified much friendship to him. On the other side, Hesiode to render them favorable to him, ingratiated himself a little more in the Court, to the end he might do them some good office there, and have the more liberty to visit Clymene. But when this fair Lady in the be∣ginning of the Spring returned to her Desart, it was easie to observe, that the cares of Hesiode were divided; for he did nothing but make ap∣pointments to go see her, sometimes with her Brothers, very often with Belintha, and some∣times alone; no longer caring for Favor or For∣tune, nor any thing but to see Clymene, to write to her, and to make Verses upon her, under the name of a Shepherdess For his inclination leading him to speak of Countrey matters in his Verses, he conceived Love in Poetry had something more charming and more sweet with that resemblance of simplicity, than with that of Nymph or Goddess. Clymene taking good notice of his sentiments, in∣treated Belintha several times, to indeavor to make Hesiode change his intentions, but his Friend told her smiling, that till she forsook her solitary hu∣mor, she would rather send her a thousand Lovers, than free her from one. Things being in this po∣sture, Hesiode went for two days to the House of Clymene's Aunt, with her Brother, during which the Prince was gone to one of his houses in the Countrey, and had dispensed with him for fol∣lowing him. Belintha was likewise of this Com∣pany, with two other handsome Ladies her friends; so that the Desart was then very delightful. When Hesiode was ready to set forth, a Packet was brought him from Lysicrates, and delivered to one of his attendants; he was minded to read it presently, but being told the Company waited on∣ly for him to depart with them, he referred the reading of it till he came upon the way. Yet he did not perform his intention, for Clymene so took up his mind, that he never remembred the Packet he had received, though he did not question but there was something in it which concerned the Prince's interest. So he went to Clymene's house in this forgetfulness, and which was more strange, was there till very late the next day without think∣ing of it; and 'tis likely he would have returned to Locri in the same manner, had not an acci∣dent befallen him. The house where Clymene dwelt being seated in a pleasant Countrey, walk∣ing was the chiefest delight it afforded. So, as soon as the Sun permitted the Ladies to injoy that divertisement commodiously, Clymene obliged her friends to take the ayr. The company being one evening in a Meadow beset round with Willows, and divided by a River whose Banks were all co∣vered with various sorts of flowers, they divi∣ded themselves insensibly; so that Clymene and Hesiode found themselves alone, separated from all the rest about thirty paces; some walkt, others sate down, and others sung. As for Clymene, having found a little flowry place on the bank of the River, where the little Dog she loved was layd down, she leaned against a Willow, and shewing Hesiode the goodliness of the Countrey endeavored to hinder him from speaking to her of that which she saw well he had in his Soul. But to imploy him the more, she intreated him to shew her once again the Verses he had read to her an hour be∣fore, wherein he described the Countrey life af∣ter a very handsom manner. Hesiode, was willing to obey her with diligence, and sought for the Verses, but instead of them drew forth the Pac∣ket of Lysicrates, which he had not yet opened, and had received at his coming from Locri. This sight surprised him; but instead of being troubled at this adventure, as Lysicrates was for that of his own, when be let fall a Letter of Clymene in her presence without having opened it; Hesiode laught at it, and would have put up the Packet again without opening it, if Clymene who knew the hand and blusht at it, had not askt him whi∣ther he newly received it. No, Madam, (said he to her) and Artemides at whose house I Lodge can testifie to you that I received it when I came from Locri. But why then did not you read it upon the way, or since you were here? (said Clymene.) Because I am wholly unlike Lysicrates, (answered he) and whereas Ambition destroyed love in his heart, love destroyes Ambition in mine. Clymene blusht at this discourse, and was very sorry for having been so curious; but because what Hesiode spoke might still be diverted, she made no application of it, and without answering to it told him, it was fit he opened his Packet, for fear least there might be some Order from the Prince in it. For though (added she) I am an enemy to great Ambition, yet I am none to your happiness. If it be so, Madam (said he to her) it will be very easie for you to render me happy. In the interim, if you desire I should know the import of this Packet, be pleased to take the pains to read it; for in a place where you are, I can do nothing but behold and admire you. Though all that comes from Lysicrates dis∣pleases me (answered Clymene) yet out of respect to you I will see what he commands you: and accordingly she opened the Packet, and beheld in it a Letter from Lysicrates who desired him to come to the Prince, who had writ with his own hand these words at the bottom of the Let∣ter;

I will not command you to come, because I would be more oblig'd to you if you come as soon as you know I desire it.

When Clymene had done reading the Contents of this Letter aloud; But what will you say to the Prince (said she) for not having obey'd him forthwith? I know not (answer'd Hesiode) but I know I care not what he will say of it, provided that without being offended, you will suffer me to thank you for having cur'd me of Ambition. For indeed, Madam, though you should be all your life ungrateful to the most respectful passion that ever was, I ought always to thank you, for

having freed me from one, which has none but false pleasures, to give me another whose torments are delightful, and make me account my self more hap∣py in being with you ••n the bank of this River, than I should be with the greatest Prince of the World if I were his Favourite. You are so per∣swaded (answer'd Clymene) of my hatred to am∣bition, because I hate an ambitious person, that you mind only speaking on that subject. But to hinder you from constraining your self unprofita∣bly, I will act with you as with a man I esteem, and in whom I see a thousand good and delightful qualities—. I beseech you, Madam, (reply'd Hesiode) go not to cast me into despair, and fear nothing from my passion. If it be disgustful to you, I will conceal it as long as I live; but do not attempt to destory it, for it would be in vain. And to hinder you from believing that I dissemble, when I say Love has destroy'd Ambition in my heart: If you please, I will never see the Prince nor Lysicrates more, I will renounce all kind of so∣ciety, I will disclaim all the World, and all my Friends; for you are all the World to me, you have united all my passions into one, and I consi∣der only you in all the Universe; I will even re∣nounce glory, if you desire it, though I have al∣ways much affected it, and there is nothing which I will not do to testifie that I love you ardently. Hesiode spoke this with an earnestness so full of love that Clymene was surpris'd at it; notwithstanding she continu'd firm in the resolution she had taken, and answering with very much discretion, I con∣fess to you (said she to him) the manner after which you speak, both surprises and afflicts me: for I know you so well, that I think I ought not wholly to dis-believe the truth of what you tell me. And therefore I am sorry to see that so de∣serving a person as you, constrains me to tell you things which afflict you. But I should be ingrate∣ful, unjust, and a dissembler, if I conceal'd from you the true state of my Soul. I beseech you, do not conceive an ill-grounded hope of my sinceri∣ty; for I will hide nothing from you which may be to your advantage, nor dissemble that which is against you. I confess to you, that 'tis now some time since I understood I was not indifferent un∣to you, and though I believe you love me a little less than you think, yet I am convinc'd you love me more than I desire. I shall tell you once again that I esteem you as much as I can, that I see nothing in your heart, but what seems to me noble, nothing in your wit but handsome and excellent, that in renouncing Ambition for love of me, you do that only thing of the World which can be most agreeable unto me. But after all, He∣siode, I have so much unjustice, as that I can never confide in the virtue of any whatsoever, after ha∣ving been deceiv'd. And though you should be∣lieve I might in time change my sentiments, yet there is another obstacle which you can never sur∣mount, which is, that you know I have lov'd Ly∣sicrates, and so I cannot think, if I should admit your affection, but that you would believe I had an easiness in my heart, which I have not, and that there needed no more but saying to one I love you, to oblige me to answer favourably. In the mean time this is so remote from truth, that with all your merit, and all the affection you pro∣sess for me, I believe you can never oblige me to love you: the most obliging expression I can give you, is, that if I had always continu'd to see you, when I first saw you at Helicon, and you had al∣ways lov'd me, no doubt I should never have lov'd Lysicrates, but should have affected you. But, Madam, (said he to her) since you do me the ho∣nor to tell me, that if you had lov'd me hereto∣fore, you would love me still, why will you not love me for the future, since you love Lysicrates no longer? No question, I am not less worthy of your affection, than I was at that time, and I love you a thousand times more: consider then, Ma∣dam, consider well what you say, and do not at∣tempt to deprive me of all hope, for I cannot but hope that the constancy of my Love will over∣come all the obstacles, which oppose my happi∣ness, and that you will not be always unjust. I be∣seech you, Madam, wherefore ought I to be pu∣nish'd for the unworthiness of my Rival, since I do not resemble him? He loves Fortune more than you, and I despise it only because I love you; Ambition grows in his heart in spight of his Love, and Love in mine, in spight of my Ambition. Lysicrates could live no longer without a Palace, without Magnificence, and without a great num∣ber of flatterers which encompass him; and I should live happy with you only in a simple Cot∣tage, in the midst of a wilderness, without all so∣ciety but yours. Moreover, you ought not to ima∣gine that I would think you had a general facility in your heart, if you favour'd my passion; for a Lover is not worthy to be lov'd, if he can suspect his Mistriss of so great a defect; and he is not so much as worthy to be esteem'd, if he loves a per∣son ardently whom he does not esteem infinitely. And besides, Madam (added he) having refus'd the heart of a Prince, and of a gallant and deserving Prince, you are sufficiently justify'd from that kind of weakness. Should all you say be true (re∣ply'd Clymene) I should still have several reasons, which would oblige me to defend my heart obsli∣nately; and therefore, Hesiode, leave me in peace in my Desart, and forsake not Fortune for a person who can never be but her own. Once more, leave her in quiet in her solitude, to enjoy a tranquillity, which gives time for agreeable musings; and con∣tinue in the tumult of the world, which has so much pleas'd you, and pleases you still more than you be∣lieve. You are unjust, Madam (answer'd Hesi∣ode) for above these fifteen days I remember eve∣ry moment four Verses, which I made in an ar∣dency of mind, since I saw you, and repeat them sighing, a hundred times a day.

O peaceful quiet, happy solitude! Could I forsake you for inquietude? Farewell Ambition, with Disasters crost, What avails Greatness, when Content is lost?

After this, Madam, (added he) will you still say you have not inspir'd me with the love of so∣litude: and accuse me always of loving the tu∣mult of the Court, and the turmoil of affairs? I, (I say) who speaking against those who en∣rich themselves by unjust ways have declar'd that they were unhappy in not knowing, that sometimes the half is better than the whole, and that men were miserable in being ignorant, how sweet it is to live with the Herbs of ones own

Garden; since if they knew it, the labour of one day would suffice for their subsistence all the year. Judge then, if you have reason to accuse me. The Verses (reply'd she) which you recited, and those you speak of, please me well; but, you know, Poetry is oftentimes guilty of untruth. However, suffer me to thank you for having spoken so well of musing in few words; for it is really more Mi∣stress of the World than is believ'd. After this Clymene, notwithstanding Hesiode's reluctance, went to joyn with the company, who all re-as∣sembled together in a place very delightful, Belin∣tha knowing Clymene and Hesiode admirably well, perceiv'd, as soon as she saw them, they had been speaking of something which employ'd their wits, whereupon, when night was come, and Belintha and Clymene were retir'd into their Chamber, Be∣lintha ask'd her friend smilingly, if Hesiode reci∣ted Verses to her all the while he entertain'd her apart. I wish he had with all my heart (answer'd Clymene) he would less have perplex'd me than he did. But what was it he said (demanded Belintha) that troubled you so much. I beseech you, my dear Belintha, (answer'd she) do not still oppress me, but suffer me to forget all his dis∣course. When we desire so much to forget things (reply'd Belintha smiling) we never forget them at all: and moreover, to speak truth, I cannot con∣ceive that so worthy a person as Hesiode, has told you any distastful matter; for he has not told you that he hates you. No, (answer'd Clymene blush∣ing) but he has been so bold as to tell me he loves me, and to tell me so in such a manner, that per∣swades me he speaks no untruth. How? (said Belintha hastily) and is it the declaration of the love of a very worthy person that you would for∣get? Believe me (added she) do not endeavour it, for I have an absolute perswasion, 'tis the on∣ly thing of the World that was never forgotten by any. You speak with so little seriousness (an∣swer'd Clymene) that I am almost inclin'd not to answer you any thing. You speak with so little sincerity (reply'd Belintha), that the best course I can take, is to discourse with you in raillery. You believe then (said Clymene) that I am wil∣ling Hesiode should love me. No, (answer'd Be∣lintha) but I have a strong belief, that if Hesiode never does any thing but love you very respectful∣ly, and very ardently, you will not hate him for it. Hatred is a great word (reply'd Clymene) but in the sentiment I am in, you will do me a ve∣ry great pleasure, if you can hinder Hesiode from persisting to love me; for I am perswaded, the kindness you have for me, and that which he bears to you, makes more than half of his passion; and I am confident, the desire you have to draw me out of my Desart, has induc'd you to put the fol∣ly into his head, wherewith he entertain'd me to day. I should confirm your opinion more (an∣swer'd Belintha) if I should tell you that he has spoken to you by my counsel, and give you occa∣sion to believe, that what he has said to you is but a fiction; but being I am too sincere to do that, I tell you what I think, which is, that Hesiode loves you a thousand times more than Lysicrates ever did. However, (added she subtilly) I offer to do all that I shall be able, to hinder him from coming hither again, and I will also peremptori∣ly forbid him in your name, if you please. I spoke to him with an aspect (reply'd Clymene, without taking notice of her friends subtilty) that per∣haps will deterr him from continuing to speak to me of his pretended passion. I will then say no∣thing to him (answer'd Belintha smiling.) Ah! cruel friend (cry'd Clymene) will you always de∣ride me? After this, Belintha discours'd to her more seriously, telling her a thousand things to the advantage of Hesiode, conceiving nothing could happen more advantageous to her, for one of her humour, than to be lov'd by so excellent a person as he, and whose passion was both respectful and innocent Nevertheless Clymene continu'd in her ordinary sentiments, however, in the bottom of her heart, she was not sorry that Hesiode lov'd her. Wherefore she recounted to Belintha very exactly, all that he had said to her, and the adventure of Lysicrates's Letter, very different from that of that ambitious Lover, towards whom she found her hatred and contempt increas'd, the more she be∣gan to esteem Hesiode. In the mean time, having read what Lysicrates had written to him, and the Prince's Postscript, she would oblige Hesiode to depart the next morning, to go to him; but he refus'd it, and chose rather to hazard the Prince's displeasure, than forsake Clymene, and give her ground to believe, that he was not capable of a∣bandoning all for her sake. Yet he return'd at length to Locri, without having gain'd any thing upon the mind of this fair Virgin. At the return of the Prince, he excus'd himself the best he could, without much earnestness; but from that time, getting always greater familiarity with the brothers of Clymene, he was oftner in her Desart, than at Court: so that having such frequent occa∣sions of speaking to her, and testifying his love, he began to shake the resolution she had taken, of never loving any. Nevertheless she conceal'd her sentiments for a long time, although she knew none ever had a more tender passion, than that of Hesiode for her. He admir'd all that she spoke, the least of her actions charm'd him, he lov'd the same things that she did; he observ'd even the places, where she us'd most frequently to walk, to the end he might go muse there alone, when she was not there, and he could not be with her. Clymene on the other side understanding his worth, virtue, and love more, resented a secret delight in being lov'd by Hesiode; and though she believ'd not that she lov'd him, yet she did not wish he would cease to love her. But at length the con∣stancy of Hesiode, the counsels of Belintha, and Clymene's own inclination caus'd her to consent that he might speak the most secret sentiments of his heart to her; and, by degrees, she came to ac∣knowledge that he had moved hers, and that, provided his affection were innocent and con∣stant, he might assure himself he should be ten∣derly belov'd. Belintha also understood this strait engagement, and was the only Confident of this virtuous love. Hesiode desir'd then to oblige her to suffer him to speak to her relations, that he might marry her: but she told him, that having been once deceiv'd, she crav'd his pardon; if she could not so soon trust his affection, that she was a profest enemy to repentance, and that to the end they might never repent of their mutual affection, it was requisite they made yet a little longer tryal, whether it were as firmly establisht as she desir'd.

In the mean time they did not cease to fancy to themselves a thousand contentments in a sweet and quiet life, which they design'd to lead, when their fortune should be inseparable. In which ex∣pectation, they enjoy'd a thousand innocent sweet∣nesses; their love was tender, delicate, and in∣genious, to make them find out ways to render it secret. Belintha alone knew all that past between these two persons; for after Hesiode came to be favoured by his Mistriss, he spoke no more of his passion to that friend of his, to whom he had communicated something of it in the beginning. A slave, who was very faithful and ingenious, called Troilus, carried his Masters Letters, and brought him the answers of them. Hesiode and Clymene made little presents to one another of seve∣ral gallant things, which pass'd not in the sight of the World but for gifts of friendship, though they were indeed testimonies of Love; they told one another all their thoughts; Hesiode writ nothing but he shew'd it to Clymene, and Clymene had not a thought but she told it to her dear Hesiode. She did that for him out of gallantry, which Belintha told him she would never do; for she gave him that beloved dog of hers, for her kindness to whom she had been so much reproacht. Thus by a thou∣sand little obligations (which afford the greatest pleasures of love, when they are done with a cer∣tain way of dearness, which redoubles the sensibi∣lity of the hearts of those to whom they are perform'd) Hesiode and Clymene enjoy'd a thousand innocent pleasures. In this conjuncture (as all Courts are subject to sudden revolutions) so great a disgust hapned between the Prince and Lysicra∣tes, upon occasion of an Office which he had dis∣pos'd of, that all the favor he could obtain of him, was to have permission to abide at an antient house of his in the Countrey, which was near to that where Clymene resided, This disgrace of Lysi∣crates, no doubt did not much afflict this fair Vir∣gin; nevertheless she was much troubled at his co∣ming to be her neighbor, and much more some days after, when this disgraced Favorite, finding her by chance in a Walk, out of an odd humo∣rousness of love felt his first flame so ardently re∣kindled, that without sticking a moment, he ac∣costed Clymene: and seeing her alone, with two Women that follow'd her, while her Aunt was walking at a good distance with an old Priest; You see Madam (said he to her) that bad for∣tune returns me to you; but I shall take it for good, if you will please to forget all the crimes whereof you have accus'd me though they be not perhaps so great as you have believ'd them; for you know I began to be ambitious only for your sake. Is it possible Lysicrates (answer'd she roughly) that you can have the boldness to speak to me as you do? and can you believe, without having lost your reason, that I am so poor of spirit, as to endure your affection again? No doubt you would be glad to find some consolation during your exile, and that in a time wherein all your flatterers have forsaken you, if I would admit of your flatteries; but, Lysicrates, you are mistaken, it can never be; it will be much easier for you to make your peace with your Master, than to obtain your pardon of your Mistress. Bethink your self therefore of re∣turning to Court, and leave me in my desart; for if you make a custom to come and trouble me, I shall soon forsake it, only to be at distance from a man, whose discretion has been so bad, as that he has chosen rather to follow capricious fortune, who at length forsakes all whom she favors, than to be faithful to a person who lov'd you sufficiently, to esteem her self happy without the assistance of her benevolence. I beseech you, charming Cly∣mene (cry'd Lysicrates) do not cast me into de∣spair; I consent, that all my past services be lost, do but you grant me the favour to begin anew to serve you, without having any other right to your affection, than that which a thousand diligences and respects may acquire for me in the time to come. No, no, Lysicrates, (answer'd Clymene) I will not do what you desire; he that is once gone out of my heart, never finds re-entrance. If I hated you still (added she with a coldness full of scorn) perhaps it would not be impossible, but that I might love you again one day: but the manner of your acting with me, having made me pass from anger to hatred, and from hatred to contempt, and from that to a total indifference, no change can ever happen in my mind to your advantage. However, being you are unhappy, a little kind of generosity makes me forbear to speak any thing more severe to you; and I con∣tent my self with forbidding you ever to speak to me of your pretended affection, or to come to see me. After this Clymene left Lysicrates, who dar'd not follow her, for fear of incensing her more against him: but love having really assum'd its antient place in his heart, he went the next morning to visit Clymene's Aunt, who receiv'd him civilly as an unfortunate person. Hesiode was there at the same time; but there was much difference in the manner, wherewith Clymene spoke to these two Rivals; for she spoke not to Lysicrates, except to upbraid him; but to Hesiode with extream sweetness, who notwithstanding could not but resent some small discontent, to see Lysicrates renew his Courtship to Clymene, which he presently took notice of. Sincerely (said he with a low voice to this fair Virgin) the misfortune of Lysicrates afflicts me, and gives me cause to fear; I could wish rather for my own sake, that he were still the Prince's Favorite. I should take this ill (answer'd Clymene) if you spoke it seriously; but being there's no doubt but 'tis only to shew that you apprehend all that can be apprehended of things, I pardon you. However, if Lysicrates does not break off coming hither, I will soon cure your mind of an ill-grounded jealousie. To which purpose Clymene having in vain prohibit∣ed him coming to seek her, endeavour'd to ob∣lige her Aunt not to admit him more. But she being a good and generous person, believ'd it would be something unhandsome to forbid an ex∣il'd person her house: Whereupon Clymene con∣jur'd her that she would please to go to Locri for some time, to the end she might avoid the un∣welcome visits of Lysicrates, This resolution gave very much joy to Hesiode; Belintha also was extreamly glad of it; and Lysicrates in his desart saw himself equally cast off by his Master and his Mistriss, and to make him the more unhappy, the two most violent passions in the world, conti∣nu'd in possession of his heart. For being then without any near hope to satifie them, they did not destroy one another, and he was ready to give

himself again wholly to that which should afford him most ground of hope. In the mean time all the world rejoyc'd at Locri, for the return of Clymene; and Hesiode and she carried their affairs so well, that their affection pass'd rather for a gallant friendship, than a true love; because indeed among ingenious persons there is a certain genius, which makes their affections mutually sutable and cor∣respondent. About this time several Feasts were made, at which Clymene was present with delight; for though she always lov'd, and much affected solitude, yet she could not but love all companies where Hesiode made one, who, without variation of his sentiments, ever preferr'd her above all things, and was a thousand times more diligent in his attendance upon her, than on the Prince, whom he waited upon no oftner than decency en∣forc'd him, Clymene having never been so well sa∣tisfi'd as at that time, had never before appear'd so lovely; for besides that joy embelisht her, she was of better humour, her wit was more plea∣sant, and she made so many conquests in a little time, that no discourse was more frequent, than concerning the charming excellencies of Clymene. The Prince himself having seen her again, after having broken off with a Mistriss, whom he had at that time, re-engaged himself to love her, and resolv'd absolutely to conquer her heart by his ad∣dresses, without interposing his authority. By this means the felicity of Hesiode was strangely check'd; for though he had as much esteem as love, for Clymene, and when he listned to his own reason, could not suspect her to be unfaithful to him; ne∣vertheless these two Rivals of his, strangely per∣plex'd him, and excited greater fear in him, than himself could reasonably approve. He was ob∣lig'd both to the Prince and to Lysicrates, reason and generosity requir'd him to be obsequious to the first, and respectful to the latter: but Love dictated to him to hate and destroy them, since they both employ'd all their endeavors to destroy his felicity, in establishing their own. But that which afflicted him most, was, that he could not reason to the contrary, but with like regret. If he consider'd that Lysicrates was unhappy, and Clymene might, out of pitty, suffer her self to be re∣gain'd by him; he imagin'd also that the Prince of Locri by the lustre of his quality and his autho∣rity, might at length come to please her: thus both the happy and the unhappy gave him inqui∣etude. Yet the Prince's love gave him otherwise some consolation; for upon his declaring himself, that multitude of Lovers who throng'd to Cly∣mene's house, retir'd, Lysicrates also in his desart, was troubled to understand, that the Prince began to love Clymene again: that which augmented his grief, was, that he consider'd his Courtship as well prejudicial to his own passion, as to his am∣bition, because he fear'd lest this fair Virgin, to keep him in eternal exile, would admit of the Prince's affection upon that condition. Clymene on the other side, suffer'd as much as Hesiode and Lysicrates: for being a person, whose affection was very tender and sincere for Hesiode, and whose great and virtuous soul was above ambition, she was extremely griev'd to see the love of the Prince and Lysicrates, and to observe the discontent of Hesiode; for she knew not what remedy to use to it. When she was at Locri, the Prince visited her every hour; when she was in the Countrey, Lysicrates troubled her, as much as he could, and she had no pleasure any longer, but what cost her a thousand regrets. Hesiode liv'd still at the same rate with her; but he sigh'd so often, when he could do it, without being seen be Clymene, that it was easie to be observ'd he suffer'd more than he profest; for out of a deep respect he had to her, he did not let her know that he was desperately jealous: Not that Clymene did one action, or spoke one word, which he could condemn; but the con∣juncture of things seem'd so cross, that he could not hinder himself from fearing least the same de∣stiny which occasion'd it, reserv'd some other of greater cruelty for him. Clymene on her part, did all she thought her self oblig'd to, to content He∣siode. She did not speak to him of the sentiments which she observ'd in his mind, because she would not complain of them; so that this unhappy Lo∣ver, not having so much as the comfort which complaint affords, suffer'd more than can be ima∣gin'd, especially because he thought it always ••••••∣fit to make any discovery of his jealousie. For (said he to himself) when any one has ground to be jealous, he ought not to think of complaining, but endeavour to love no longer; and if his jea∣lousie be ill-grounded, it is unjust to go to torment an innocent person. Thus Hesiode's greatness of mind and respect restrain'd him from discovering his jealousie, and he was more unhappy than all others that are possest by that passion. That which tormented him yet more strangely, was, That the Prince intreated him to make Verses in relation to his Love; but though he judg'd he would be dis∣pleas'd with him, he excus'd himself from it, and told him it was absolutely impossible for him to make Verses of that nature, if his heart were not touch'd with the same passion, and if he did not express his real sentiments. At this time there arrived at Locri, two Lydians, very skilful in Mu∣sick, especially in that kind which moves the heart, and excites it to tenderness, languishing, and love. They were persons of wit and honesty, and very great friends one to another; they both plaid so admirably upon the Harp, that none was heard go beyond them, since Orpheus, whether they plaid together or apart. But the wonder was, they were so well consorted, that the same Instru∣ments in the hands of an excellent Master, who has an exquisite ear, could not be more harmonious than their two Harps were. There airs were ve∣ry handsome, and accurately compos'd; and they sometimes made so mollifying and amorous a sound with the strings they toucht, that without the assistance of words, the hearers hearts were melted, and their minds mov'd to a transport; whereby disposing the sentiments of those in pre∣sence as they pleas'd, they constrain'd them to conspire with their harmony, and become merry or sad at their Will. But besides this admirable faculty, one of them not only compos'd excellent Sonnets, as well as his illustrious friend, but sung after so passionate and affecting a manner, that there were no words but appeared amorous in his mouth. So that these two excellent men being arriv'd at Locri, were the admiration and divertisement of the whole Court, and consequrntly were caressed by all persons. The Prince caus'd the fair Cly∣mene to hear them several times; but however,

none had so much interest in them, as Hesiode, who loved and understood Musick, and of whose composure they sung several excellent Songs, ha∣ving before been a long time in Greece. Hesiode knowing the power he had over them, especially over him that had the excellent voice, could not forbear to relieve the jealousie wherewith he was tormented, by making a Sonnet upon that Sub∣ject. Which when he had compos'd, he gave it secretly to that Lydian, who was so much his friend, and whose name was Usclames, intreating him to set it to an air, sutable to the words, and to tell the Prince and all the Court, when he sung it, that he had had it a long time, and knew not who was the author of the Verses: but to the end the business might be more concealed, Cly∣mene was named Iris in the Sonnet, yet he would have the name of Shepherdess remain in it, that she whom it related to, might make the appli∣cation of it, when she heard it sung. But after he had resolv'd the matter in this sort, he repented himself, and thought it would be better to use it otherwise, Therefore he requested that excellent Musician, only to make an air upon the words which he gave him, and set it down in Notes, without saying any thing, or taking notice, if it were shewn him to sing, that he had ever heard speak of it. And accordingly the matter was ex∣ecuted so; For after the air was compos'd, and the Lydian had delivered it to him in Notes, he writ the Sonnet all along in a disguised hand, to the end Clymene might read it afterwards. After which he folded it up, and by a slave unknown to his Mistriss, sent it to her, with order not to dis∣cover who sent him. But the better to know how the thing would succeed, Usclames who made the air, was at Clymene's house, when Hesiode sent the Sonnet; and as chance would have it, Belintha was there too; so that Hesiode could not fail of being well inform'd of that which past. The slave arriv'd, and presented the packet he was entrust∣ed with to Clymene, who presently opened it, con∣ceiving it was a Letter. But she was much sur∣priz'd when she beheld the following Sonnet in it, and sett two Notes after the manner made use of in Musick at that time.

Sonnet.

IRis when first under your Empire brought, The cruel'st martyrdom, was sweet, I thought And while you tortur'd, you did chiefly bless, Alas! no jealousie did then my heart possess.

I hop'd my constancy, whilst yet no sense Of love, had made in you indifference, Had undergone your greatest rigidness: Alas! no jealousie did then my heart possess.

Who would have thought, my doubled cares to you Should be to please you, and displease you too At the same time, ungrateful Shepherdess? Alas! no jealousie did then my heart possess.

As soon as Clymene had read the first couplets of this Sonnet, she knew Hesiode had made it, and suspected he that was then with her, had made the air. But that she might not discover her self too much, in case she was deceiv'd when she had read the Sonnet, she gave it to Uselames, and ad∣dressing to him, I beseech you (said she) take the trouble to sing this Sonnet to me, before I send away him that brought it, to the end I may know whether the air of it be as passionate as the words. But, Madam, (answer'd he) I shall sing it so ill, if I do it without having studied it, that I shall do injury to him that sent it you. However (re∣ply'd Clymene) I request you to sing it as well as you can, and take no care for the rest. The inge∣nious Lydian made shew of seeking out the air, and drew towards a window to study it, and singing half aloud, one would have thought he endea∣vour'd to make strains on the sudden. But at length the love of his own work not permitting him to sing an air of his own composing, he sung it admirably well, and made it appear to Clymene and Belintha, that it was perfectly fitted to the words, and that it would be hard to make an air of four short Verses with more gracefulness, sweet∣ness, and passion than this. In truth (said Cly∣mene then to him smiling) If your self had been the composer of this air, you could not have sung it better than you have done. After which, calling for her Writing instruments, she writ the Letter which follows in answer to him that had sent her the Sonnet.

I have so good an opinion of him that made the handsome Sonnet I receiv'd, that I believe she for whom it was made, can never give him cause of jealousie; yet it would have been pitty if he had not been jealous, since that passion has caus'd him to make such ex∣cellent Verses, and so handsome an air. Adieu; When you are willing to be known, you may be so.

After Clymene had writ this Letter, she shew'd it to those that were with her, that she might seem to make less matter of it; but for that she fear'd if it should be publish'd, it might prejudice Hesiode with the Prince, she desir'd Belintha, and Usclames to be silent of it; as accordingly they were. But Clymene did not think that she had a young Slave to her Servant, who had an excel∣lent voice, and without her observation, had heard all that was said, saving the request which she made to Belintha and Usclames, not to speak of this adventure. In the mean time Hesiode hear∣ing in what manner Clymene had receiv'd his Son∣net, knew she understood he was the Author of it, and finding a sufficient sweetness in her Letter, he was glad he had intimated his jealousie to her without offending her. Therefore he thank'd Usclames, and intreated him to keep his secret faithfully; and discover'd himself also to Belintha, that she might be the more secret in it; for a sin∣cere confidence is more obliging to fidelity, than that which trusts a thing by halves. The next morning he went to Clymene's house and came thither so conveniently, that he found her all alone. As soon as she saw him, she chang'd colour, and

reproving him obligingly for his jealousie, Is it true (said she to him) that you have so bad an opinion of me as to be jealous? Ah! Madam (an∣swered he) can you think it possible for me to love you without jealousie, when I see I have two such Rivals? Lysicrates as you know, has had the glory not to be hated so long as he was not Ambitious; and the Prince of Locri has so many qualifications to make himself loved, that I could not but fear he might come to be so. So that all I could do, was respectfully to conceal my jea∣lousie from you. What you say, is ingenious, (re∣plyed Clymene) and there may be some appearance of love in it; nevertheless, there is none at all, and the jealousie you are possessed with cannot be caused but by a weakness of your heart, or an un∣just diffidence of my fidelity. But to testifie to you (added she) that I do all I can to comfort you, tell me what course I shall take to cure your mind. You know my unhappy fortune permits me not to be any where else but at Locri, or in the Coun∣trey: if I am in my Desart, Lysicrates causes your suspicion; if I am here, the Prince's love makes you jealous; and in the mean time I know no where else to be. What then can I do more than I do? that is, I treat Lysicrates rudely, I give the Prince no hope, and I grant you all the innocent favors that Virtue permits me. Speak Hesiode; and if I can do any thing more for you, tell it me; but consult your reason a little, and do not follow only your passion. Alass Madam, (an∣swered he) I do no longer distinguish the coun∣sels of my reason from those of my love, and I am so little master of my self, that I am not able to answer any thing. All I can say, is, that my jealousie is caused only by excess of love; for I esteem you more than you can imagine, and I can never believe you capable of doing any thing which is not just. But after all, I do not cease to fear, and I imagine sometimes that perhaps you ought not to love me, and that I am not generous enough in not counselling you to embrace the passion the Prince has for you, and to banish me. But to speak truth, this thought is so weak in my Soul, so little durable, and a moment after I find it so opposite to true love, that I repent of it as of a crime. You have reason (replyed Clymene) and I like better your being jealous than generous in that manner, though I very much love generosity. I am obliged to you for this sentiment, Madam, (answered Hesiode) and I should be much more if you could take the resolution to prefer the dear∣ness and fidelity of my love above all things. Is it not to prefer you above all things (replyed she) not to love any but you in the whole world, and to contemn all mankind for your sake? 'Tis far more then I deserve (answered he) but 'tis not enough, to render me happy; for to overcome all the infelicities that persecute us, it is requisite you would please our fortunes should become in∣separable. But Hesiode (replyed she) do you not consider what you say; for do you think the Prince would leave us in peace if you had married me? and do you imagine my Brothers, whose inclina∣tions are low, and devoted to interest, and who expect all their fortune from the Love the Prince professes to me, will consent to our happiness. No Madam, (answered he) but since you love me so much as to despise the Prince's affection, and consequently have no intention to advance the for∣tune of Ganetor and Antiphanes, at the loss of your own contentment; It will be requisite to render me happy without their consent, to for∣sake Locri, and go to Helicon, where I have for∣tune enough to content a person so generous as you are. Though that which you propose to me, (replyed Clymene) be such that I think I cannot resolve upon it, yet I do not take it ill that you have proposed it; because it not being contrary to innocence, I am equitable enough not to be dis∣pleased that you desire a thing of me, which seem∣liness will not suffer me to grant. For though I have neither Father nor Mother, and my Bro∣thers have comported themselves towards me af∣ter a manner, which may dispense with me for part of the respect I give them, yet it is something disagreeable to a person who scrupulously loves her reputation, to forsake her Relations and fol∣low the Fortune of a man out of her Native Countrey though she marry him. Therefore I conjure you, make this proposal no more to me, and let us await our happiness from Time, and our own Virtue. If Lysicrates do not speedily make his peace with the Prince, I am perswaded the Prince will banish him out of his Countrey, and if Fortune recall him to the Court, he will leave me in quiet in my Desart, whither I will return as soon as he has left it. And as for the Prince, no doubt he will soon change his senti∣ments; for 'tis not the custom for persons of that quality to make long Courtship. Therefore have a little patience, and in the mean time if you will oblige me considerably, be not jealous at all, or at least be so indifferently; for as to wholly disclaiming that passion, I am not scru∣pulous to oblige you to a thing sussiciently diffi∣cult, if it be true that you love me ardently. Alas! Madam, (answered he) do not you know that 'tis almost as impossible to give bounds to jea∣lousie as to the Sea, and that when a person be∣gins to be possest with it; he cannot hinder its in∣crease? So that Madam, it is rather in your pow∣er than mine to restrain it; for I doubt not but if you will take some care of an unhappy person who loves you infinitely, you will hinder him from abandoning himself to that furious passion which wholly engages all that are possest by it, and is a greater enemy to reason, than love which occa∣sions it. After this, Clymene discoursed with He∣siode with so much virtue and dearness, that part of his jealousie was dispelled. Yet the calm which re-establisht in his mind continued not long; for the next morning there hapned an accident which afflicted him sensibly.

The Prince being in Clymene's chamber where those two famous Lydians made an admirable con∣cert for an hour, which charmed all the company, afterwards obliged Usclames to sing an aire; but whilst he was tuning his harp to obey him, the Prince began to reprove Hesiode obligingly, for having refused to make Verses at his request: who desiring to divert that discourse, took occa∣sion to tell him that Clymene had a young slave whose voice was so excellent, that had she had the art of Usclames, she would have ravished all the World. The Prince who was willing to take no∣tice of all that belonged to Clymene, desired she might be called, to the end Usclames might hear

her, and judge whether her voice deserved the trouble of teaching. Whereupon Clymene, who was more willing to entertain the Prince with singing than discourse, commanded the young slave to be called. She was cheerful, sprightly, confident enough, and very obedient; so as soon as her Mistriss commanded her to sing, she began. But Clymene, Belintha, Hesiode, and Usclames were strangely surprised when they heard her sing the first couplet of Hesiode's Sonnet, for they had ta∣ken no heed to this young slave, and suspected not she could have remembred it. Clymene blusht, Hesiode was amazed, Usclames beheld her with astonishment, and Belintha could not contain from bidding her sing another. Upon which the Prince observing these several commotions, asked Belin∣tha why she would not have the Girl sing that song, which seemed to him very pleasant? Because 'tis so old (answered she blushing) that no body sings it. For my part (replyed the Prince) I never heard it. In truth, my Lord (said the young Slave confidently, whilst Clymene was whis∣pering something to Usclames,) 'tis probable you have not heard it; for it is so new that a man whom I know brought it yesterday in Notes to my Mistress. This answer raising the Princes sus∣picion, caused him to ask her who gave her this Sonnet. This discreet Virgin, judging it more dangerous to deny than confess it, told him she knew nothing of it, and that Usclames was pre∣sent when it was brought her. For my part (said Belintha) I believe it was intended more to Uscla∣mes than to Clymene; for it seems to have been made by some one, who would intimate to him that he is not the only composer of handsome ayrs. But why did you say (answered the Prince) that the Sonnet was old? In truth, my Lord (replyed she) I can give no other reason but that I was so unwilling to hear an ayr sung ill, which Usclames yesterday sung admirably, that I endeavored to di∣vert the Girl from singing it. Since Usclames sings it so well then (said the Prince) I desire I may have the pleasure to hear him. Perhaps my Lord, (answered Usclames,) having sung it but once, I shall not well remember it. But being it was sent with Notes to Clymene (reply'd he) you may sing it as well to day as yesterday. Clymene conceiving it unfit to make so much difficulty to shew it, since the Verses were written in an un∣known hand, gave it to Usclames, from whose hands the Prince took it, calling Hesiode to him, to help him (he said) to conjecture who was the Author of it. If it were a greater work (answe∣red Hesiode) it would be easier to find out who had composed the Verses; but three couplets of a Son∣net, which run all in the same strain, are not very fit to discover the composer by. Yet there is a certain close (replyed the Prince roughly.

Alas! no jealousie did then my heart possess.

Which makes me suspect one person. But to judge of the ayr as well as of the words, it is re∣quisite to hear Usclames sing. Then this illustri∣ous Lydian making semblance of not understand∣ing it, sung it as if he were unassured whether he did right or no. But though he dissembled, the Prince understood that he had composed the ayr of this Sonnet, and suspected Hesiode to have made the Words. This suspition was no sooner in his mind, but he lookt upon Clymene, so un∣happily for her, for Hesiode, and for himself, that he perceived some kind of correspondence in the looks of Hesiode, and this fair virgin: so that re∣calling a hundred past things, he became jealous in a moment, and did not doubt, but that the negligent attendance of Hesiode on him, was an effect of his love to Clymene, and that the rigor of Clymene was an effect of her affection to Hesiode. For (said he within himself) if she were amorous of no person, it were not possible but she would embrace the affection of a Prince, who is able to advance her fortune. Being of a violent humor, he could not altogether hide the agitation of his mind, yet he did not declare himself then, but went away in great haste, only telling Clymene as he departed, that the next time he saw her, he would tell her who had made both the ayr, and the words of this Sonnet. You will do me a plea∣sure, my Lord (answered Clymene coldly) for in truth I know him not. If you did not know him (replyed he as he went forth of her Chamber) I should not, and I know him only because you do, and your eyes have told me. Having spoken this with sufficient fierceness, he went away: Hesiode was obliged to follow him, and so was Usclames: so that only Belintha was left with Cly∣mene, who did not think it prudent to chide the young Slave much, who had caused so trouble∣some an adventure, but told Belintha she had not done well in saying the Sonnet was old. Belintha, answered, she was too much astonished; and thus unprofitably blaming themselves, they ended their discourse with complaints; for they very much feared the Prince would banish Hesiode if he came to know certainly that he was his Rival, and was loved. As soon as Hesiode could get at liberty from the Prince, he returned to the house of Clymene, with whom he had discoursed with very tender resentment. Yet they resolved never to discover the truth, for Usclames was so much a man of ho∣nor, that they did not fear he would fail of his promise. In the mean time the Prince having well considered what had hapned, resolved not to testifie his thoughts openly, till he fully un∣derstood the matter: in order whereunto know∣ing Clymene's brothers were ambitious, and would sacrifice all to their own interest; that Antiphanes was subtle, and Ganetor sufficiently pragmatical, he resolved to make use of them, to discover re∣ally whether Hesiode were amorous of Clymene, and Clymene loved him. He spoke to them both therefore apart, and gave them ground to hope all things from him, and intimated as if it were possible he might marry their Sister, in case he could be loved by her, and so at length disposed them to be faithful Spies for him with her. But though he had much recommended the secret to them, and told them all he thought concerning the Son∣net, yet they communicated it to one who told it several others. So that within three days, it was noised throughout both Court and City that Hesiode was amorous of Clymene, and that he was jealous of her; and Hesiode's Sonnet was so generally known that there was scarce any person but sung,

Alass! no jealousie did then my heart possess.

By which means the news of this adventure flying to Lysicrates's Desart, sensibly afflicted him, for he conceived that if Clymene loved Hesiode, it would be impossible for him ever to regain her heart. Wherefore having then no hope either to re-ingratiate with the Prince, or recover Clymene's affection, he found himself extreamly unhappy, and more within a few days after, when Clymene's brothers, relating to the Prince whatsoever they heard or knew, to make themselves look't upon as necessary instruments, told him that Lysicrates was again become amorous of their Sister, although they had received divers good Offices from him during the time of his being a Favorite. The Prince was so incensed with this news, that he sent to command Lysicrates to depart his Dominions, and it was not without much difficulty that he obtained fifteen days to take order for his affairs. In the mean time Antiphanes and Ganetor forgetting nothing in order to discovering the truth, having gained that young Slave to their purpose, who so unsea∣sonably sung the Sonnet, they understood by her that Troilus the faithful Slave of Hesiode brought Letters to Clymene very frequently, and that she used to put them in a Cabinet, to the sight of which she admitted no person besides her self. After they had learnt this, they made an appoint∣ment for a Walk of recreation in a place a good distance from Locri, to the end their Sister might be obliged to be present at the entertainment. But at the very moment they were to set forth, Ga∣netor fained himself sick, and went not with the Company. As soon as they were gone, he sent away upon several pretended occasions all those that might oppose his purpose, and having none with him, but the young slave whom he had cor∣rupted in Clymene's Chamber, he sent for a man who was very dextrous at such businesses to cause him to open and shut again Clymene's Cabinet, wherein she carefully kept all Hesiode's Letters. By this means Ganetor came to know the whole secret of the innocent affection of Clymene and He∣siode. But though he found nothing but what attest∣ed the virtue of his Sister, yet looking upon this Love of hers as an obstacle to the advancement of his fortune, he came on a sudden to hate both his Sister and Hesiode. However, he caused the Cabi∣net to be made fast again, putting into it all the Letters he had seen, and the Verses Hesiode had made in secret for her. And he did all this so ex∣actly in the same order he found it, that Clymene perceived nothing at her return. But when Anti∣phanes spoke with Ganetor, he was much surprised to learn what he told him; but though they resol∣ved absolutely to serve the Prince, even with the loss of their sisters glory if he pleased, rather than not promote their Fortune, after having well con∣sidered the matter, they thought it not fit to dis∣cover the whole truth to the Prince, because in case he should know Clymene preferred Hesiode before himself, he might cease to love her. Therefore they resolved only to say that they had discovered beyond all doubt, that Hesiode loved their Sister, but that they could not yet find out whether or no he were beloved by her. They al∣so determined to speak to Clymene, very mildly at first, and afterwards if she would not yield, to threaten her, and to have recourse to the ways of greatest violence. So they told the Prince all they had resolved to acquaint him with, who being assured of Hesiode's love, began to hate him as much as he had formerly loved him, and took up a resolution to banish him as well as Lysicrates. Yet he deferred it for some days, because he was desirous to know fully whether he were loved by Clymene, which could not be discovered but during his abiding there. But upon divers occa∣sions he made it sufficiently apparent that he had changed his sentiments towards Hesiode. For fal∣ling in discourse to speak of Homer and him, he laughed and said, Homer was the Poet of the Lacedemonians, because he taught War; but He∣siode only the Poet of the Helotes, because he treated very much about agriculture; detracting by this raillery from the glory of Hesiode. In the mean time Antiphanes and Ganetor took occasion one morning to speak to Clymene. At first they flattered her, and told her with much sweetness, all they desired from her; but perceiving that, though she answered them with much civility, they could not bring her to what they wish't, they fell into strange insolence against her. What? (said Ganetor to her) have you so pitiful a spirit as to prefer a man that pretends to be a Wit, before a Prince? to have no consideration of the great∣ness of your house, nor the fortune of your bro∣thers, provided you may satisfie a foolish passion that is entered into your head? Ah cruel sister that you are! you shall repent it, and your best course will be, to be cruel to Hesiode, if you love him. Clymene being transported with grief, to hear her Brother speak in this sort, could not con∣tain from breaking out into these terms. Alass! (said she) how cruel are ye, who can have the injustice to think of destroying an innocent per∣son, who has done you service in a thousand oc∣casions, and whose virtue is far above the rank of the greatest Princes in the World? how can you be the confidents of the Prince's love, and pur∣chase your advancement with the price of my honor, for without telling you that I love Hesiode, or am loved by him, I only intimate to you, what you are not ignorant of, that Sovereigns never marry for love, and therefore according to reason being obliged to look upon the passion your Prince has for me, as criminal, you ought not to be his agents and confidents in it; you ought rather to die with shame, for seeking you fortune by so unjust a course; for if I were in your place, I should rather go seek it at the Wars, and owe it to my Sword, than to my Sisters eyes. Perhaps we will follow part of your counsel (answered Antiphanes sufficiently rudely) and takin his brother by the arm to cause him to go away out of Clymene's Chamber, these two furious persons left her. Clymene then repenting of having spoken so much to them, endeavored to retain and appease them, but they would hear her no longer, and left her in incredible sorrow. Her grief became yet more perplexing some days after, for Hesiode discovered by the faithful Troilus, that Lysicrates, (who during the time of his being favorite, had gotten together wherewith to be rich, into what place soever he went) caused all his most precious things and wealth to be put into a ship; and to

revenge himself of the Prince, and satisfie his own love, he layd a de••in to carry Clymene away with him by violence; and being very much beloved by the Officers of the Prince, he was advertised that himself was suddenly to be banisht. Cly∣mene was infinitely perplext at the understanding of these two misfortunes which were designed to her. On the one side, she was in fear for Hesiode's life, knowing that her brothers were capable of the most violent resolutions; she con∣sidered his banishment with more horror than death, and was more in fear of being carried away by Lysicrates, than of dying, and she so dreaded to stay alone under the power of the Prince who loved her, that she knew not which of all her unhappinesses to fear most. Alas! (said she to Hesiode with extream sorrow) Is it possible for an affection so innocent as ours to be so unhappy? and are you a criminal for loving one that loves you? Ah! my dear Clymene (an∣swered he) 'tis no crime of yours, for if you loved me perfectly, we should not be long un∣happy. I have told you formerly, that I have wealth enough to be happy with a person that can be contented with things handsome and conve∣nient. So that if you were capable of taking up a generous resolution, I would marry you with the consent of your Aunt, to whom alone you owe respect (since your brothers are not worthy to be what they are) and so uniting our fortunes together for ever, we shall escape both the vio∣lence of the Prince, and Lysicrates, and the in∣justice of Antiphanes and Ganetor, for whom I will always have some consideration, though I know well they hate me in perfection. I perceive in∣deed (answered Clymene) that that which you pro∣pound to me, is the only thing which can res∣cue us from all the pressures of unhappiness to∣gether, but (my dear Hesiode) I have so little ac∣customed to do any thing inconsistent with ordi∣nary seemliness, that I find a strange repugnance in my self, to examine only whether this ought or ought not to be done. And if we should not be able to execute our design, but be discovered, we should make our fortunes worse, and be a hundred times more miserable. Alass, my dear Clymene (replyed Hesiode) Is there a greater un∣happiness than to be constrained to be separated, and that for ever? This, no doubt, is the great∣est (answered Clymene) but if I should see you a prisoner for my sake, and I should live under the power of the Prince, or in the possession of Lysicrates, I should perhaps be in a condition more deserving compassion. But Madam, (replyed he) when I shall have received the command, which must cause me to depart the dominions of the Prince of Locri, if I obey him, will you not find your self under his Power? will you not be in danger of Lysicrates's violence? and if I do not obey him, as there is great likelihood I shall not be able to obey him, shall I not be in danger of the things which you can most fear? For as for my self, Madam, I confess to you, I cannot resolve to forsake you; and I conceive if you determine not to render me happy, I shall be forced to take some course to conceal my self here in the house of some friend, to the end to be always in place where I may defend you, or at least to have the sad consolation of dying near you. Con∣sider therefore Madam, what you intend to do; but above all things do not constrain your sen∣timents; and if to my unhappiness, there be in your heart any thought favorable to the Prince, be so generous as to tell me; for if it be so, I have nothing to do but dye, and I shall have re∣spect enough for you, to go and dye out of your presence. Ah! cruel as you are (cryed she) can you only imagine that what you say is possible? If it be not (answered he) why will you not re∣solve to take the only course which can render us happy; for if you do not take it, I declare to you, I cannot hinder my self from believing that I am not necessary to your felicity, that you can live without me, that you believe I am able to live without you, and that measuring my affection by your own, you are utterly ignorant what a true love requires. For where perfect love is, Madam, a person that is loved cannot be refused in any thing which is not contrary to love. And be∣sides, is there any crime in my request? are not you alone Mistress of your own will? is it not free to choose with whom to spend ones life? and would it not even be against virtue, not to follow my fortune? You have promised me an eter∣nal love, and notwithstanding you are willing to break it, without any other reason to tell me, than that in marrying you secretly, with the consent of your Aunt, who you know will approve it you shall commit, you say something incongruous to ordinary decency. Is it not sufficient (added he) that what I desire is not repug∣nant to innocence? grant it me then (continued this Lover falling upon his knee, and taking her by the hand, which he grasped with extream dearness, and do not render me, the most un∣fortunate of men. As Clymene was considering what she should answer, Belintha entered, who seemed very sad. A moment after, some per∣son coming for some small business to Clymene, she was obliged to go to the door of her cham∣ber: and Belintha took the occasion to speak to her apart: I am infinitely grieved (said she to her) that I must tell you what I newly understood, to wit, that your brothers have conceived so horri∣ble a hatred against Hesiode, that you ought to fear all things from their violence: do not ask me farther, but if you will follow my counsel, oblige him to go out of the way for some time. Clymene then resented an extream grief, though she had not the liberty to testifie it; for at that very in∣stant, the Captain of the Prince's guards came thither, who finding her at her chamber door, I desire your pardon, Madam, (said he to her) for the unwelcome commands I have to acquaint you with. The Prince having understood Hesiode was here, gave me order to come and seek him. He∣siode hearing himself named, advanced towards the Captain of the guards, who told him, with all the civility his office permitted him to have in this unpleasing occasion, that the Prince commanded him to depart from Locri the next day, and out of his Dominions two days after. Hesiode's mind being prepared for this command, he appeared not at all surprised witht, but answered him that brought it, without being moved; who having done his Message, departed, and left these three per∣sons at their liberty, of speaking what they thought

for Belintha so well understood all that past be∣tween Hesiode and Clymene, that she did not pre∣judice their freedom. Then it was, the amiable Clymene felt her soul cruelly afflicted, and Hesiode making his last attempt to move her, desir'd the as∣sistance of Belintha, as a faithful friend. For my part (answer'd this generous Lady) though I must lose Clymene if she does what I desire, yet there is no doubt, I had rather never see her more, than see her unhappy. And moreover (added she) ha∣ving some relations at Helicon, I hope I shall not lose her for ever. Whilst Belintha was speaking thus, Clymene wept, and had not the power to speak. But at length after Hesiode had us'd the most passionate expressions in the world to her, and Belintha had prest her to take up a generous resolution, she told Hesiode, that provided he would consent she should marry him, she would then con∣sent to follow his fortune, and endeavour to get away secretly, in case her Aunt would not forsake her. Hesiode then exprest all that a dear Love could inspire him with, to thank Clymene: after which, Belintha went to move her Aunt, and ac∣quitted her self so well of this commission, and so urgently represented all the sad consequences which might attend their adventure, that this woman (who hated her Nephews, lov'd her Niece dearly, had no children, whose treasure and jewels was easie to transport, and who was per∣swaded the Prince's love to Clymene was not inno∣cent) easily inclin'd to that which Belintha pro∣pounded. Whereupon going to find Hesiode and Clymene, they consider'd all together what they had to do. The result was, that to take away all the Prince's suspicion, Hesiode should depart the next morning from Locri, and should likewise give out, that he intended to leave the dominions of the Prince within two days after; but should go and conceal himself in a little house of Belintha's, upon the sea-side beyond Molycria, not far from the Temple of Neptune; in which, two days after, a great sacrifice was to be made, where every year was a great confluence of persons of all con∣ditions. That in the mean time Clymene's Aunt should be at the sacrifice, that afterwards Belintha should carry her to her house where Hesiode was conceal'd, and that the night following they should embark in a little Fisher's Vessel, to deceive those who might have any knowledge of their depar∣ture; that afterwards they should land fifty fur∣longs from thence, in a place where horses should attend them, that so they might go to a Town, and provide a chariot to carry them to Helicon, where there marriage was to be accomplish'd. Hesiode nevertheless, for his own satisfaction, de∣sir'd Clymene that she would promise him to be his, in the presence of his Aunt and Belintha; which being done, fill'd him with a joy greater than he was able to express. But, not to give any suspicion, Belintha told Hesiode, it was not conve∣nient for him to stay longer with Clymene; and accordingly, having entertain'd her apart a quar∣ter of an hour, whilst Belintha was speaking to her Aunt, he bid her adieu; and though he knew this separation was not to be long, yet he was seiz'd with incredible regret, and fear'd in the bottom of his heart (notwithstanding all his en∣deavours against it) lest some great unhappiness ••••ould befall him, when he was gone out of her sight. He fancied, that assoon as he should be out of Locri, the Prince would attempt to do some violence to him, or that Lysicrates would carry her away when she went to the sacrifice, Clymene per∣ceiving so great a sorrow in his eyes, was so sen∣sibly mov'd with it, that she could not contain from endeavouring to comfort him. She gave him her hand very obligingly, and looking upon him with as much love as modesty, You seem to me (said this discreet Virgin) so afflicted for an absence of three days, that I am glad I have not condemn'd you to eternal separation. Go then my dear Hesiode, goe; but that you may expect me with some contentment, believe, I conjure you, that I should have been as miserable as you, if I had not consented to our happiness.

May I believe it, Madam (answer'd Hesiode) and may I go and wail for you with the satisfacti∣on of thinking that you leave your Countrey with∣out repugnance for my sake, and that without me you could not live happy? Yes, my dear Hesiode, you may, (reply'd she) and there is nothing so obliging which I do not permit you to believe, now virtue doth not prohibit me. After this he kist her hand respectfullv, and left her to go and provide for her departure. But Antiphanes and Ganetor causing Clymene to be always observ'd by the young slave whom they had corrupted, un∣derstood confusedly, that Hesiode had had a long conversation with her, Belintha, and their Aunt; and that this Lover parted from Clymene after a certain manner, which might seem to intimate, it was not with intention of never seeing her more; which highly exasperated their former indignati∣on. In the mean time Clymene's Aunt, to give the less suspicion of her design, went to her house in the Countrey without carrying Clymene thither. The next day after Hesiode's departure, Lysicra∣tes hearing of it, went to see her, and profest so violent a passion for her Niece, that he seem'd ne∣ver to have been more amorous of her, than at that time. And indeed, pretending no longer to the Prince's favour who banisht him, Love resum'd new force in his heart: wherefore confirming him∣self in the design he had to carry away Clymene, and knowing she was wont to go to the Temple of Neptune, the day the great sacrifice was to be made there, and then to go and lodge at the house of Belintha, which stood not far from the Temple, he resolv'd to execute his design that day, and took no other care but in order to it. On the other side, Hesiode obeying the Prince's Orders in appearance, departed from Locri, and being unwilling to carry any other attendants with him, besides his faithful Troilus, whom he had brought out of his own Countrey, he discharg'd the other slaves he had hir'd at Locri, and went only followed by this, to whom he carefully re∣commended the favour'd dog which Clymene had given him, as a token of love. All the Court was troubled for Hesiode's exile, the Ladies, repin'd, and the people murmured after a manner, which made it evident how great his reputation was. As for the Prince, he was extream joyful, when it was told him Hesiode had obeyed his Orders: but at length, the day of sacrifice being come, Clymene's Aunt, who was return'd out of the Countrey, took a Chariot with Belintha and her Niece, and went to that famous sacrifice, where a numerous multi∣tude

was assembled. But as for Clymene, she went thither with a joy wholly peculiar to her self, in the thought, that after the sacrifice, she should go to the house of Belintha, that she should there see her dear Hesiode, and soon after be out of the jurisdictions of the Prince of Locri, without fearing the violence of Lysicrates, and that she should at length see her self inseparably united to the fortune of that man, whom alone in the world she could affect. Thus she went thither with her mind fill'd with a thousand delightful thoughts, she was indeed something troubled to think she should leave her dear Belintha; but the hope of seeing her again at Helicon, comforted her for part of that discontent. So they arriv'd at the Tem∣ple of Neptune, which stands on the Sea shore, not far from the Cape of Rium, in a very pleasant si∣tuation; for it has a prospect to the delightful City of Molycria, which appears in a half circle towards the Sea, which lies immensely patent to the view, from the gate of Neptune's Temple, which is be∣deckt with Sea-ornaments. For between the pil∣lars are seen several statues of the Nereides, and upon the bases of the pillars, and the friezes which are about the Temple, several large scul∣ptures, representing the Trophies of prows of ships, oars put across, broken boats, and shatter'd sails. The day appointed for this famous sacrifice was so fair, that never was a more glorious seen; and the Sea so calm, that one would have thought all the waves had even'd themselves for the more decent celebration of this Festival of Nep∣tune. The sacrifice was begun with all the cu∣stoms requisite; but because there use to be se∣veral delightful passages to be seen on such occa∣sions, Scaffolds were erected for the Ladies of quality, before the great Gate of the Temple, where the ceremony was perform'd. Clymene was upon one of these scaffolds, well dispos'd to take much pleasure in the ceremony; for though the Prince was present there, yet she was free from trouble, because it belong'd to him to be always near him that offer'd the sacrifice in his name; and that according to the laws of the ceremony, he was not to go out of the Temple till night ended it. So his presence was no obstacle to the secret design of Clymene, wherefore she appear'd very pleasant, and took delight in beholding all the va∣rious offerings which were brought thither a little before the sacrifice. First, two hundred Fisher∣men, very agreeably attir'd, presented themselves with silk lines in their hands, and went respect∣fully to offer silver hooks to him that receiv'd the offerings. After them two hundred others, attir'd with fillets, and crown'd with sea-weed, went to present every one a fish, in baskets of bul∣rush covered with flowers; after them a hundred daughters of Fishermen, attir'd in green, and their hair dishevel'd like Sea-Nymphs, carried little baskets full of cockles, and offer'd them to Nep∣tune. Then came a hundred old Mariners with Oars painted and adorn'd with Flowers, which they carried and laid down at the foot of Nep∣tune's statue, to testifie by that submission, that it was he that sav'd them from suffering shipwrack. When all these offe rings were made, the accu∣stom'd sacrifice was perform'd, after which was heard a concert of voices, which sung a hymn in praise of Neptune, which Hesiode had compos'd this year, and was accounted so admirable, that never had any comparable, to it, been sung before. While it was singing, and all the rest of the mul∣titude was in profound silence, there was on a sud∣dain heard a strange kind of noise among them that stood furthest off, with a great murmure and confusion of voices. A moment after, the throng was divided, and there were seen four Fishermen, bringing a dead man all bloudy upon Oars laid across, who having found him in this condition, not far from the place where the River Daphnus discharges it self into the sea near Molycria, brought him hither where this great assembly of people was, to the end it might be known who he was. This lamentable object troubled the Assembly; but it afflicted the fair Clymene much more sensibly, who after the men had laid the body upon the ground, perceiv'd the Dog she had given to He∣siode amongst the Fishermen, and going to lye down upon the Corps, which she instantly knew to be Troilus, that faithful Slave of Hesiode; for the Scaffold whereon she stood was sufficiently near, and his attire remarkable, not to be unknown or mistaken. She no sooner knew him, but she made a great shreek; a moment after, a thousand voices forc'd her to turn her eyes towards the Sea, where the people imagin'd Neptune was rea∣dy to appear, because they perceiv'd the water rise up after an extraordinary manner, with some∣thing moving in it, which they could not well discern. Clymene's mind being then very inquiet∣ed with seeing the Slave of her dear Hesiode, in this condition, look'd upon this commotion in the Sea as others did, though her thoughts were whol∣ly otherwise imploy'd, Thus she stood and be∣held, as all the rest of the World did, that this object which appear'd so confusedly, coming near∣er and nearer, became more visible every moment. So that insensibly approaching it was perceiv'd to be a great Troop of Dolphins, who carried a bo∣dy upon their backs by turns, discharging the bur∣den from one to another, as they drew nearer to∣wards the shoar. This object surpris'd the whole multitude in such manner, that it fix'd the eyes of all the company from the Prince to the meanest Fisher; but especially of Clymene, who no sooner perceiv'd it, but, without well knowing the rea∣son of it, she was seiz'd with such a universal trembling, as fear gives them who are most capa∣ble of it. In the mean time these charitable Dol∣phins approaching always towards the shore, mu∣tually aiding one another, came at length so near it, that they cast the body, which they had carried, up∣on the Bank, and that so gently, that it remain'd extended upon the Gravel, as if it had been a man asleep, having his countenance turn'd towards Heaven, after which they plung'd themselves a∣gain into the Sea, and departed from the shore. But this body was no sooner upon the Land, but the Dog which lay upon that of Troilus run to the shore, and howling in a most doleful manner, laid himself down upon the body which the Dolphins had brought thither. Clymene, who beheld the action of this Dog, first trembled with fear, and then suddenly blusht again; and advancing to∣wards the side of the Scaffold which look'd to∣wards the Sea, she heard several voices which said, It was the body of Hesiode, which was seen upon the Bank. Whereupon, resenting a passion

not to be express'd, and not being Mistriss of her self, she stretcht out her hand to a man who help'd her down the Scaffold, and was follow'd by Belintha through the throng to the place where the body lay. But coming thither, she beheld her dear Hesiode dead, who having receiv'd a great wound in the Throat with a Sword, seem'd to have been assassinated. At the same instant Anti∣phanes and Ganetor, by the Prince's order, approach∣ing towards the body, to the end they might as∣certain him whose it was, came thither at the same moment that the unfortunate Clymene did. But as soon as they appear'd, the Dog which she had given Hesiode, and who then lay upon his bo∣dy, leapt up with an extream fury, sometimes a∣gainst Antiphanes, and sometimes against Ganetor, as if he would fly in their faces, and accuse them of the death of his Master, which Clymene observing, and all the people looking upon it as something prodigious, and perceiving the wounds of Hesiode begin to bleed afresh, and Antiphanes and Ganetor appearing astonish'd at it, Clymene could not con∣tain her self from saying in the transport of her grief, turning towards her friend who was near her; Ah! my dear Belintha, I see not only He∣siode dead, but I see also that they which murder'd him are my brothers. After, this fair and afflict∣ed Lady being able to speak no more, resented such an excess of grief, that she fell down in a swound near the body of Hesiode. Belintha sate down by her, and holding her in her arms, did all she could to revive her. In the mean time the peo∣ple having heard what Clymene said, comparing her words with the action of that faithful Dog of Hesiode, did not doubt but Antiphanes and Gane∣tor had murder'd him; besides that, they appear'd so astonish'd, that their countenances accus'd them. Now Hesiode having been very well belov'd, and the people having newly heard a Hymn of his composing in the honor of Neptune, wherewith they were very much affected, believ'd they could do nothing more acceptable to the God, whose Fe∣stival they celebrated, than to sacrifice to him the Murderers of him, who had so excellently sung his glory. Whereupon, the Brothers of Clymene en∣deavour'd to return towards the Prince; but the multitude setting upon them, strangely treated and affronted them. It being not the custom to wear Arms, during the Solemnity of this Sacrifice, there was no difficulty in laying hold upon these two ex∣c••rable murderers: who, instead of justfying them∣selves, desir'd they might be led to the Prince, and that the People would protect them from the vio∣lence of those that set upon them; but alledging the Prince would punish them for offering to re∣venge the death of a man whom he had banisht, they made their own conviction evident. Where∣upon the people crying out, it was fit to kill them, otherwise Neptune would be incens'd: This re∣venge becoming a zeal of Religion, it was impos∣sible for the Prince or the Priest to rescue them from being torn in pieces by the multitude, and cast into the Sea. The unfortunate Clymene hear∣ing the cry on every side, They are dead, and Hesiode reveng'd, understood her Brothers were put to death, after having slain her dear Hesiode; for it was presently known by some Shepherds, who had seen it, that these ambitious Brothers had murder'd him with Troilus, upon the Bank of the River Daphnus, near the place where it falls into the Sea; that afterwards they had thrown the two bodies into the Sea, one of which was cast up again by the waves upon the shore, and the other brought by the Dolphins near the Cape of Rium. The Prince hearing Clymene was near the body of Hesiode, went thither to her, after he had dispers'd all the incensed multitude, who so well reveng'd the death of Hesiode, that they pull'd down a house standing not far off, which belong'd to Antiphanes and Ganetor. But as soon as Cly∣mene perceiv'd the Prince, she shut her eyes that she might not see him, and making a sign to him with her hand to retire, turn'd her head towards the other side, and swoon'd with grief in the arms of Belintha. This sad accident so affected the Prince of Locri, that fearing his presence might occasion the death of Clymene, if he should con∣tinue near her, he intreated Belintha to take care of her, and retir'd. In the mean time, partly out of policy, and partly out of generosity, he commanded the body of Hesiode to be interr'd near a Temple of Nemaea, in the Countrey of Lo∣cri, which stood in the midst of a Wood; to the end it might be less in the sight of the people, and that the remembrance of his death might be the sooner worn out. Thus the Oracle which had formerly admonisht Hesiode to beware of the Tem∣ple of Nemaea, was accomplish'd, though Hesiode forsook Peloponnesus, that he might be at greater distance from the Temple of Nemaea, which is seen there. Belintha, after the body of Hesiode was remov'd from thence, caus'd Clymene to come again to her self, and put her into a Chariot, in∣to which her self and her Aunt likewise enter'd and commanded him that drove it, to goe to a house of hers, which stood thirty Furlongs from thence. But, upon the way, whatever Consolati∣ons were us'd to Clymene, she answer'd nothing but, Hesiode is dead for my sake, and I will dye for his. And accordingly this fair Virgin, who till then, imagin'd her self still upon the Sea-shore, near the body of Hesiode (so troubled was her mind, observing at length she was in a Chariot, and no longer saw her dear Hesiode) believ'd they were carrying her to Locri, where the Prince would continue to importune her. Upon which, ma∣king a great shreek, Ah! no, no, (said she) it shall never be said, that I live after my dear Hesi∣ode, and go to a place where he can be no more. And immediately, as if she had had the command of her Fates, she fell down in so great a swound, that they were forc'd to stop the Chariot. Yet their succor to her was in vain, for she expir'd in the Arms of her Aunt, and her Friend, who were ready to dye with grief as well as she. But at length, seeing their tears were unprofitable, they continued on their way in the most sad manner imaginable. They had scarce gone five hundred paces into a Wood, but Lysicrates, without know∣ing any thing of what had happened, came at∣tended with several Horsemen to stop the Chari∣ot, with intention to carry away Clymene, and to put her into a Ship, which he had provided for that purpose. But how strangely was he sur∣priz'd, when, instead of living Clymene, he be∣held the fair Clymene dead? Come, Lysicrates, come, (said Belintha to him, who knew his design) come see the fatal consequences of your ambition! For

if you had never been ambitious, Clymene had been still alive, her Brother and Hesiode would not have been dead, nor your self culpable and exil'd; but you would have been as happy as I foresee you will be miserable, for it is not possi∣ble you should be otherwise, after having caus'd so many miseries. Ah! Belintha (cry'd Lysicrates, alighting from his Horse, and approaching to her.) that which you say is too true, and I too criminal to be excus'd. But death (added this despairing Lover) shall without doubt punish me for my crimes; for since I am the cause of that of the most excellent person that ever was, I am unworthy to live. And indeed to increase my despair, (continued he) I will believe the unfortunate Clymene did not love Hesiod, but on∣ly out of revenge, and that it must be imputed to me whatsoever she has suffer'd by her affection to him. But since it is not possible for us to live together, yet at least we must reside in the same tomb, and all I have acquir'd by my ambition, shall be employ'd in that Structure. Which fatal thought coming in an instant into Lysicrates's mind, Belintha and Clemene's Aunt endeavour'd to di∣vert him from it; but in vain: for having a Cha∣riot in that Wood, in which he had design'd to carry away Clymene to the Sea-side, which is not far distant from it, where a ship attended for him; he caus'd the body of Clymene to be taken by his followers, notwithstanding the tears and cries of these Ladies, and himself helpt respectfully to lift it into his Chariot. After which, he caus'd it to be put into his ship, and setting fail with all speed; cross'd the Ionian Sea, which is on the West side of Peloponnesus, and landed not far from the place where the River, which passes by the City of Elis, discharges it self into the Sea; and commanding Clymene's body to be carried into a Temple of Dia∣na, which was near the Bank of that River, he perform'd to her, all the honors of Sepulture; which being done, he gave himself wholly to be∣wail her death, and caus'd a stately Tomb to be built for her, in building of which, he, according to his promise, bestow'd all the riches his am∣bition had gain'd him, reserving only enough for his subsistence during that time; and as soon as the Tomb was finisht, the unhappy Lover shut himself up in it, and dy'd for grief, in having been the cause of so many fatal accidents; though others have believ'd ambition had as great a share in his death as Love. Thus Clymene was reveng'd after her death; but she had not the sad happi∣ness to be in the same Tomb with Hesiode, who has had a glory transcending that of all others; for the Orchomenians. having consulted an Oracle, which promis'd them much felicity, if they could get the body of Hesiode into their power, they of Lo∣cri to hinder them from it, so carefully conceal'd the place of his Sepulture from strangers, that there are few persons know it. And moreover the Prince of Locri dying of Melancholly not long af∣ter, the Locrians augmented the honors which they paid to Hesiode's memory, whose very name inti∣mates in his own language how purely he writ, and whose glory is so celebrated throughout the whole World, that it may be justly thought, it will be so in all Ages.

Amilcar having done reading this History of He∣siode, perceiv'd the minds of the Ladies were ve∣rymuch affected with it, and that instead of de∣lighting the company, he had afflicted them. In truth (said Clelia) the death of Clymene affects me very sensibly. For my part (said Valeria,) I have a greater commiseration of Hesiode, than I am able to express. I have the like for Lysi∣crates (added Clydamira.) I am not of your opi∣nion, (answered Berelisa) for I never have any pitty for those that have once ceas'd to love, though that Passion revive again in their hearts; and I compassionate only Hesiode and Clymene. My commiseration goes farther than yours (said Sa∣lonina;) for I pity poor Troilus too. But mine is yet greater than that you boast of, (answer'd Plotina smiling) for I am almost dead for fear, lest that poor Dog, so faithful to his Master, af∣ter having discover'd his Murderers, be lost in the multitude of people, or died of grief, after ha∣ving lost both his Master and his Mistriss. All the company laught at the pity of Plotina, and went forth to walk in several troops, except Clelia, Valerius, Plotina, Anacreon, Herminius and Amil∣car, who began to assault Plotina with raillery for her pity to Hesiode's dog. No, no, (interrupted Anacreon) do not set upon her with your jests for it; perhaps her pity of that poor Dog, has a more real foundation than ours, for the death of Clymene; for to speak sincerely,, though I am both a Greek and a Poet, and am somewhere men∣tion'd in the Prophecie of Apollo, which you have read, yet I cannot but believe, but the History you have read, is almost all of it invented. Yet it is contriv'd ingeniously enough, (added he) for methinks, 'tis not only handsomer than the truth, but withal, more probable. History men∣tions nothing more of Hesiode, than that he dwelt at the Town of Ascra in Boeotia, near Helicon, that the Muses inspir'd him, and that an Oracle which spoke to him, admonisht him to avoid the Tem∣ple of Nemaea, which is in Peloponnesus; that he travell'd into divers places, that he obtain'd the Golden Tripod, and that he got advantage over Homer, in the judgement of Panis.

There are some also who affirm these two per∣sons did not live at the same time: however, all that have written of Hesiode, agree that he was at Locri, and content themselves to say, in three words, that he lodg'd at the house of Antiphanes and Ganetor, who had a Sister, and suspecting him to be the confident of a Lover of hers, killed him together with his slave; that the body of the slave was found at a Cape or Promontory, which was afterwards call'd by the name of Troilus, in refe∣rence to him; that the body of Hesiode was brought by Dolphins near a Temple of Neptune, where a great sacrifice was solemnising; that He∣siode's dog occasion'd the discovery of his murde∣rers, who were torn in pieces by the people; and that for fear the Orchomenians should get away his body, they conceal'd the place of his burial. As for his Works, he that invented this History, has fictitiously ascrib'd to him only the Sonnet, the four Verses which he relates Hesiode to have spo∣ken, and the Hymn which he makes him Author of for Neptune's Sacrifice. Now it cannot but be acknowledged, that fiction in this occasion has greater verisimilitude, than truth it self. When the purpose is to bring about extraordinary events▪ it is no question handsomer to introduce lover in them

than any other cause: which has been practis'd by the inventor of this History; for by seigning the love of the Prince of Locri, Lysicrates, Hesiode, and Clymene, he has made you know all these dif∣ferent persons; and oblig'd you to love them, which were to be the most unfortunate. In the next place, he has given probability to that which carry'd not much with it; for there is far more likelyhood, that two ambitious and wicked Bro∣thers, should be led to kill a man, whom they look'd upon as an obstacle to their advancement, by hindring their Sister from being favourable to a Prince, from whom they expected the making of their fortunes, than to kill him as a confident of their Sisters Lover; for, setting one crime against another, it was better to kill the Lover than the Confident. He has likewise had reason to suppose Hesiode Author of that Hymn of Neptune; for besides that, such a kind of composition is suffici∣ently suitable to his strain, it was a means to con∣ciliate the peoples affection to him, who had newly heard those Verses sung: and it seems some such extraordinary cause was requisite, to induce the people to that extraordinary action; It was also pertinent to make his wounds bleed afresh at the presence of the murderers, and to represent Clymene so transported, as to accuse her brothers, without thinking to do it, for otherwise the peo∣ple would have been very inconsiderate, to tear those two men in pieces, only because Hesiod's dog set upon them. Wherefore I conceive a man that should have invented that which the History speaks concerning this adventure, had done in∣congruously; but he that compos'd the Fable Amilcar has read over, has made one according to the rules of Art. In truth (said Herminius) he has made good use of all that History sup∣ply'd him with: and I am wholly dispos'd to believe, that if it was not so, it is possible to have been so: since nothing more commends a well-invented Fable, than those historical foun∣dations which are interweav'd throughout in it, and cause the Fiction to be receiv'd together with the truth. But to speak unfeignedly, 'tis more difficult than is believ'd, to mingle those two together aright: for they must be so hand∣somely blended, as not to be discerned one from another, and that which is invented, must gene∣rally seem more likely than the true: for Chance indeed may bring such things about as are incre∣dible, but it is not lawful for a man to invent such as cannot be believ'd. If all that I have heard (said Plotina) be not true, I require Amilcar to restore me the tears which I have shed, or in∣vent some other History as delightful as this is melancholly, or at least to describe how an invented History ought to be made, so as to be good: for, as for my part (added she agreeably) were I to invent a History, I think I should make things much more perfect than they are. All Women should be admirably fair, and all Men should be as valiant as Hector, all my He∣roes should slay at least a hundred men in every bat∣tel, I would build Palaces of precious stones, I would make Prodigies fall out every moment, and without troubling my self to invent with judgement, I should suffer my fancy to act as it pleased; so that seeking out only surprising e∣vents, without examining, whether they were con∣sistent to reason or no, I should certainly, make very extraordinary things; a continual Shipwracks, burning of Cities, and a thousand other like acci∣dents, which occasion handsome lamentations and descriptions; Plotina spoke this with a certain sprightly air, which made it apparent, she knew sufficiently, what she said, was not that which ought to be done, and that she only design'd to draw Anacreon, Herminius, and Amilcar to speak, who no doubt were able to speak excellently upon this Subject. And accordingly she obtain'd the end she propos'd to her self: for Anacreon not knowing her yet sufficiently to be acquainted with all the ingenious subtilty she made profes∣sion of, turning towards her, and beholding her with a smile; Should you invent a History after the manner you speak of, amiable Plotina, (said he) you would do a thing no doubt sufficiently strange; for with rare Events, wonderful De∣scriptions, heroical Actions, extraordinary Mat∣ters, and Palaces of precious Stones, you would make one of the lewdest Fables that can be possi∣bly invented; there being without doubt nothing worse, than to see things of this nature made without order and reason: Is there any thing imaginable more strange, than when 'tis in ones power to make such events fall out as he pleases, yet to introduce such as can never possibly arrive? But yet (said Plotina) how comes it to be so, and wherein is my opinion so absurd? Because (answer'd Anacreon) when you invent a Fable, your purpose is to be believ'd, and the true art of Fiction is handsomely to resemble truth. For when this rule is deserted, there is no longer any difficulty in any thing whatsoever, and there is no more proper occasion to display the wit, than to invent without judgement. For my part (said Clelia) I well understand what Anacreon speaks; for certainly things which have resemblance with truth, and seem possible to happen, affect far more, than those which cannot either be believ'd or fear'd: But if an Historian of this kind (an∣swer'd Valeria) never relates things but such as appear to be true, and are of easie belief, me∣thinks his composures will be extream vulgar, and not much delightful. You are upon a ten∣der point, Valeria (reply'd Amilcar) for in disal∣lowing things incredible and impossible, it is not intended to imploy only such as are mean and common; there is a third way to be taken, which is the most delighful of all, and most reasonable. Wonderful accidents are so far from being for∣bidden, that they are necessary, provided they do not happen too often, and produce handsome ef∣fects; only odd and impossible things are abso∣lutely condemned. For 'tis the occasion of dis∣paraging the credit of the whole, when one thing is presented that surpasses belief. When any Slave of mine has told me a lye but once, I afterwards suspect all that he tells me; judge then if I can believe a man, who should recount extraordinary adventures to me, which my rea∣son cannot consider as possible. So that impossi∣ble things, and such as are low and common, must almost equally be avoided, and such ways of invention follow'd, as are at once both strange and natural; for without this last quality, no won∣der can please a reasonable person. I conceive, (answer'd Herminius) whosoever will invent

such kind of adventures, as may both instruct and delight, he ought to consider all the World in general, as a Painter beholds his Pattern when he is at work. And as diversity or variety is the Soul of the World, he ought to take heed of ma∣king all men Heroes, all Women equally fair, the dispositions and humors of all particular per∣sons alike and correspondent, and Love, Anger, Jealousie, Hatred, to produce always the same ef∣fects. On the contrary, he must imitate that ad∣mirable variety, which is seen in all men, accord∣ing to the example of Homer. Which is not un∣known to two Ladies I see here present; for there is seen so great a variety of representations in his Works, that 'tis not one of the things which makes me most admire him. Those two Lo∣vers, who, in the beginning of their contest with one another, about a Captive Virgin, being of dif∣ferent tempers, act also after a different manner; and though they are both possess'd with the same passion, do not take the same course. There is seen in Paris, a representation of disorderly love, in which Virtue has no part; in Hector and Andro∣mache, an Idea of virtuous love; in Patroclus and Achilles, one of Heroical friendship, and the bet∣ter to understand this variety of Characters wherewith Homer has adorn'd his Works, it needs only to take notice in general, of Agamem∣non, Nestor, Achilles, Ulysses, Ajax, Menelaus, Diomedes, Paris, Helen, Hector, Andromache, Priam, Penelope, and of so many others, even to the pleasant Characters, as that of Thirsites, which is so particularly excellent, But 'tis moreover worth observation, that the persons which Homer intro∣duces, are presently known and familiar to the Readers, because they always act according to the temper he attributes to them. Wherefore heed must be taken not to confound these different Characters: but above all things, the nature of the passions ought necessarily to be understood, and what they work in the hearts of those who are possess'd with them, after having describ'd them for such and such persons: for every one has his manner of loving according to his own humor. You have reason (answer'd Plotina) and I begin to conceive well what you say: but since any one may invent a History, why is it not lawful to invent all things, and to suppose such Countreys as are no where in the World; for it would spare much pains. 'Tis true (replyed Ana∣creon) but it would also diminish much of the plea∣sure for, if such places and persons only were us'd as were never heard of, there would be the less cu∣riosity in the minds of the Readers to know them: and the imagination finding all things new, would be inclin'd to doubt of all; whereas on the contrary, when an Age is made choice of, which is not so remote, but that some particularities of it are known, not so near, as that all the passages of it be too well understood, which notwithstand∣ing is so between both; that events may be in∣troduc'd in it, which an Historian may probably have been ignorant of, or ought not to have re∣lated; there is more conveniency to make hand∣somer things than if all were invented. For when names of Countreys are employed, which all the World hears of, and wherewith Geogra∣phy is exactly acquainted; and when great e∣vents are made use of, which are sufficiently known, the mind is wholly dispos'd to suffer it self to be seduc'd, and to receive the fiction toge∣ther with the truth, provided it be handsomly in∣terwoven, and the Writer take pains to study the Age well he makes choice of, to improve all the rarities of it, and to conform to the customs of places he treats of, not to mention Laurels in Countreys where there was never any seen, not to confound the Religions or Customs of Nati∣ons that are introduc'd; though they may with judgement be a little drawn to the usage of the present age, to the end they may be the more delightful; I am confident if this be observ'd, and they which are introduc'd in a Fable of this na∣ture, speak well, the passions be well painted out, the adventures be natural and prudently in∣vented, all the little matter which discover the bottom of mens hearts, be pertinently plac'd; Vice be blam'd, Virtue rewarded, and Variety dispers'd through the whole, without confusion, if the fancy be always subject to the judgement, extraordinary events be rationally grounded; if there be knowledge, without affectation, delight, ornament, and pleasantness, wherever it is necessa∣ry; if the style be neither too high nor too low, and no violence offer'd to decency and good man∣ners; I am confident, I say, such a Work wil please all that read it, be more delightful to them than a History, and withal be more profi∣table. For a person who writes the History of a Prince, can blame only the vices of him whose life he writes: but he that undertakes to compose an ingenious Fable, may take occasion, if he please, to condemn all Vices, and teach all Vir∣tues. And therefore I wish, with all my heart, Herminius and Amilcar would set about a com∣position of this nature. As for Amilcar (answer'd Clelia, I must disswade him from it; for accord∣ing to the humor he is of, he will never be able to resolve to blame inconstancy: but for Hermi∣nius, who makes profession of being constant, and knows all virtues, I wish he would take the pains to do it. I assure you (reply'd he) I should gladly undertake it, if I believ'd I could do it as well as I apprehend it might be done; for I am perswaded a Map of the World, and that a little embelish't, would be a very delightful thing, and withal very profitable, But to speak freely, the undertaking is more difficult than it seems, and I believe it is easier to write a hand∣some History, than to compose an accurate Fa∣ble, after the manner I apprehend it may be made. Yet it is requisite an Historian have great accom∣plishments; he must have a wit of great extent which his fancy must adorn when it is needful, both which his judgement must guide and re∣strain, when 'tis convenient, and his memory ought never to be unfaithful to him. He must have an universal knowledge of the World, of the interest of Princes, and the humors of Na∣tions; policy must not be unknown to him, nor the art of War; he must understand to describe battels; and, which is most of all necessary, he must be able perfectly to represent those Wars of the Closet, which are met with in all Courts, which consist in intrigues, delusions, and nego∣tiations, true or feign'd, and which notwithstand∣ing are of such importance, that 'tis in them the seeds are sown of the most considerable Wars,

and on which the ruine or felicity of Nations, as well as the verity of History depends. It is re∣quisite also to be skilful, how to represent the different passions of Princes, as those which go∣vern; not to say too much, or too little of them, and never to write any thing, but what instructs or delights, and is either good or plea∣sant. However when a man is provided with faithful memorials, has liv'd himself in the world, and has part of the qualities necessary to an Hi∣storian, 'tis easie to make a History not wholly bad. But to compose an accurate Fable, adorn'd with all that can render it agreeable or profita∣ble, I conceive it necessary, not only to have all that I said was requisite to an Historian, but to have a hundred knowledges more compre∣hensive and particular. Such a Writer must be (as I may so speak) the Creator of his Work; he must-understand the art of setting forth Vir∣tue, and exhibiting it as a thing not difficult to be practis'd. He must know the World, not on∣ly as the Author of a History ought, but he must understand the handsome mode of the World per∣fectly, politeness of conversation, the art of ingeni∣ous raillery, and that of making innocent Satyrs; nor must he be ignorant of that of composing of Verses, writing Letters, and making Orations. He must also know (as I may so speak) the secrets of all hearts, and be ignorant of not one of all the commendable Sciences; of which oc∣casion may be sometimes offer'd to speak by the way. But above all things, he must know how to take away plainness and driness from Mora∣lity, and set it off in a dress so natural and so agreeable, that it may divert all those to whom it gives instruction; and as Ladies break not their Looking-glasses which show them the defects which they amend when they know; so they may not hate a Work wherein they oftentimes see things which none durst speak to them of, and which they would never speak of to them∣selves, Whence it is easie to judge, that it is much more difficult to make a Work of this nature, than to write a History. You discourse admirably well (answer'd Anacreon). I am of your opinion (added Amilcar): but that which seems strange to me, is, that if it were possible to find one that had compos'd a Fable of this nature, yet there would also be found a great number of people, who would speak of it but as of a meer trifle, and an unprofitable amuse∣ment: and I know divers antient Senators here, and also several Roman Matrons, who would be so affrighted with a Love-story, that they would absolutely forbid their Children from casting their eye upon any such. That conceit, (answer'd Herminius) seems very unjust; for Love is not learnt in Books, nature teaches it all men; and in all places through which I have travell'd, I have found love every where: But I have found it more gross, brutish, and criminal, amongst people of no politeness, and such as are wholly ignorant of handsome gallantry, than a∣mongst persons of worth and civil education. And besides, if it were unfit to read Books wherein Love is treated of, we must forbear reading of Histories, in which we find exam∣ples of all crimes, and wherein oftentimes the Criminals are happy, and cause desire in some to imitate them. One day, History will record the abominable action of Sextus, the miserable death of Servius Tullus, the unjust Loves of Tarquin and Tullia, and a thousand other things of dan∣gerous example; which need not be in a Fable according to the way I understand; for therein modesty may always be joyn'd with love, and no criminal loves be ever related, which prove not in the end unhappy. For my part (said Clelia,) I think it more important than is be∣liev'd, to shew that there may be innocent loves and delightful together, for there are but too ma∣ny who think this can never be. No doubt, Ma∣dam, you have reason (answer'd Herminius) wherefore those good Senators, and severe Ma∣trons are too blame for hindring their Children from reading a Work wherein they might find wherewith to understand the practice of all Vir∣tues, and by the advantages of which they might spare the pains of travelling, to become persons of worth and accomplisht; since there may be made so handsome a Map of the World, that it might be seen in Epitome, without going forth of their Closet. And as for Ladies, I conceive likewise that the reading of such a Work as I am speak∣ing of, would rather hinder them from admit∣ting of Gallants, than induce them to enter∣tain them; for if they would compare the love pretended to them, with that they found describ'd in a Book of this Nature, they would apprehend so much difference between them, that they would never suffer themselves to be mov'd with it. I add moreover confidently, that such a Book might not only teach all Virtues, blame all Vices, and reprove all the little defects the World is full of, but it might also teach to reverence the gods, by the example given in the persons of Heroes, pro∣pos'd for a pattern; and that of whatever Nation or Religion the Reader be of, he might be profited by it, For when I behold a Roman adore the gods of his Countrey, I am not backward to improve by the example, (though I am an African) and thereby to remember I ought to worship those of my own Countrey. Therefore I do not weigh the morosity of some unreason∣able people, who blame a Work of this nature; but at the venture of undergoing their injustice, I wish I were the Author of one. For I, being contented with my own intention, should com∣fort my self against the severity of a few persons with the general applauss of the World, and the peculiar knowledge I had of the profitableness of this kind of Work in which may be had expe∣rience without the assistance of old age, precepts without severity, innocent Satyrs, judgement which costs nothing, and the means to learn that art of the World, without which it is unpossi∣ble ever to be acceptable. If you make one (said Plotina) I promise you to read it with pleasure: For my part (added Clelia) I promise my admiration to Herminius. I promise him more than you (added Valeria) for I promise him to reform many defects which I have. For what concerns me (said Anacreon) I engage my self to sing his glory. And for my part (an∣swer'd Amilcar) I promise him to read it with delight, to esteem it highly, to commend it in all places, and to do nothing which he shall say, for I never do any thing but what I say to my self.

And besides, he has such an inclination to con∣stant love, that I should never conform to it. After this, all the company uniting again, the Mu∣sick began, and then the Collation was serv'd, which was as magnificent as the harmony was melodious; after which the conversation was ex∣treamly agreeable. But it being sufficiently late, the company separated themselves with the sor∣row of knowing they should lose Telanus the next morning, because the Figure which the Veien∣tines were to deliver, was to arrive at Rome the day following. Clelia indeed was exempted from this discontent, though she very highly esteem'd Telanus, because thinking of nothing but what might have some correspondence with the passion she had in her Soul, she only mus'd upon the death of Hesiode, imagining what grief she should resent, if during the War which was begin∣ning between Porsenna and Rome, her dear Aron∣ces should happen to perish in it,

The end of the Second Book of the Fourth Part.

CLELIA. A New Romance. The Fourth PART. The Third BOOK.

THE people of Rome understanding, the figure made at Veii by Tarquin's command, was arriv'd, testified an extream joy thereupon. Nothing so easily communicating it self as superstition in the minds of the Multitude. The Consul Horatius in the absence of Publicola, caus'd the figure to be plac'd in the Tem∣ple of Jupiter, and gave permission to Telanus to re∣turn. So that having no pretext to continue long∣er at Rome, he was constrain'd to depart from thence, and take leave of those illustrious persons, with whom he had pass'd some dayes so delightfully. 'Tis true, he lest his heart with the aimiable Ploti∣na, and return'd with his mind so fill'd with the excellency of his Lady, that as couragious as he was, he heartily wisht the war would soon be end∣ed. He parted from Amilcar with much dearness, notwithstanding his being his Rival; but for the three other his Rivals, he bad them not adieu. His civility was greater towards Clelia, to whom he made a thousand protestations of friendship, as like∣wise to Octavius, who being better recover'd, had a long conversation with him before his departure, to oblige him to serve Aronces to the utmost of his power, since he was going to be of the same Party, intreating him to be confident, that if he could find occasion of seeing him, he would promote his inte∣rests faithfully with Clelius, and against Horatius. After which this generous Veientine having thanked Clelius for all the favours he had received from him, departed from Rome, where the same day there ar∣riv'd news which was not very acceptable. For in∣telligence was brought, that Porsenna was so dili∣gent in assisting Tarquin, that in a little time the troops of Veii and Tarquinia, would be united with his; and that he had resolv'd to be in person in the head of his Army. It was also inform'd that Pub∣licola would return within three dayes, because hav∣ing been advertiz'd by Herminius, that there was beginning of division in the Senate since his de∣parture, he judged it more important to take care for the assuring of Rome, than to preserve the out∣places of it. Besides his Army being too weak to undertake to sustain the first attempt of that of the King of Hetruria, when the Forces of the Veientines, and those of Tarquin should be added to it, he thought it better to let the Enemies cool and wea∣ken themselves, before he offered to fight them. The vertue of Publicola being highly respected by all the Romans, the news of his return produc'd a good effect in Rome. They who had begun to di∣vide themselves reunited, and had not the boldness but to appear zealous for their Country, before a man, who had no other interest, and who, having all the People at his devotion, might easily punish them for their delinquency. The return of Publi∣cola was no doubt very acceptable to Valeria; but Mutius coming back with him, diminisht part of her joy; because he had such a kind of haughtiness in his deportment, that she had rather this impe∣rious Lover would alwayes have been at the war, than return'd to Rome. The forces being also to come back, Clidamira and Berelisa thought fit to defer their journey to Praeneste, till the return of the Army: and moreover Artimedorus being at Rome, they had no great impatience to leave it. But as for this Prince, he ardently wisht Berelisa had been there alone, having scarce any opportunity of see∣ing her without Clidamira; for which reason he took no delight in seeing her, and was more fre∣quently with Clelia than with her; for this aimia∣ble Lady looking upon him as Aronces his friend, and a wise, good and discreet Prince, to whom she might communicate all the secrets of her soul, had very much affection and complacency for him. As they were one day together, a Slave of Artimedorus brought him a Letter, which oblig'd him to take leave of her, without telling her the cause of it. Tho the same night he return'd to her, to beseech her she would please to take a walk the next day with Valeria, Cesonia, and Plotina, in a Garden not far from the Sublician bridge. Clelia not caring for divertisement, desir'd to be excus'd, but Artimedo∣rus telling her the business was to do a good office to Valeria, and that he could not discover more of it to her, she promis'd she would be ready when Cesonia, Valeria, and Plotina should come to call her, knowing Sulspicia would not refuse to let her go with those Ladies, her dear friends. And accordingly the next morning, they whom Artemidorus had nam'd, came to her house, there being no men in the company be∣sides Artemidorus and Herminius. As they were go∣ing to the Garden, Clelia ask'd Valeria what service she desir'd of her? I should rather (answer'd she) desire to know what I may do for your service; for Artemidorus has told me you had need of me in rela∣tion to some affair. It is to be believ'd then (reply'd Clelia) that 'tis he that has need of us: but, in refe∣rence to my self I cannot but think him too blame for taking such a course, since I should serve him with joy. In my opinion (said Valeria) it must be for something which Berelisa is concern'd. Then they asked Cesonia and Plotina, if they knew what the bu∣siness

was, which occasioned their going to that Garden. For my part (answered the first) I know no more of it, but that Artemidorus told me you both desir'd me to accompany you thither, and to take Plotina with me. 'Tis some satisfaction to me (said Clelia) that we shall soon know what the business is with us. When these Ladies were arriv'd at the gate of that garden, where Artemidorus and Hermi∣nius waited for them, they lighted from their Chari∣ot, and entered into the Garden, where they found no person at all; wherefore they demanded what was the design of their coming thither. Be not im∣patient (answered he) you shall know it presently; but you shall not know altogether, but severally, what has induc'd me to deceive you, and bring you hi∣ther; at least Clelia and Valeria shall be together in one place, whilst Cesonia and Plotina shall be in ano∣ther. If Artemidorus had not been well known to these four persons, this would have occasion'd strange thoughts in them: but being ascertained how pru∣dent and discreet he was, their curiosity did not in∣quiet their minds at all. But (said Plotina) I desire to be satisfied, whether Herminins be more knowing than we are; He shall be so presently (answered Ar∣temidorus) for he shall know all, that shall be told Cle∣lia and Valeria, tho not till after them. For my part (said Herminius) I desire never to know any thing concerning my friends, but what they are willing I should. After this Artemidorus having been to give order that none should be admitted into the Garden, led Cesonius and Plotina into a walk which was on the far side, where they found an old man, who no soon∣er beheld Plotina, but he knew her, altho it was a very long time since he had seen her. But this fair Virgin could not know him otherwise than by his voice, and was some time before she could recollect her self. At length calling him to mind, she testified much joy to see him, and believing he was her Uncle, made him a thousand caresses; Alas! (said she to him, embracing him) where have you been for so long time? You shall know (answered he) when I have opportunity to tell you without any other witness than Cesonia, to whom I know you have such great obligations, that 'tis fit she be acquainted with all your fortune. Alas! (reply'd Plotina) my fortune is very easie to know; for when I have said I have lost my father and my mother, while I was yet in the cradle, and alwayes liv'd with the vertuous Aegesile your wife, till my departure from Ardea, I shall have said almost all. You so little know your self (an∣swer'd this sage old man) that you cannot well speak of your self, till after I have told you who you are Artemidorus judging that his presence was not neces∣sary in this place, and knowing that it was elsewhere, left Cesonia and Plotina with him that had so many important things to tell them, and returned to Cle∣lia, Valeria, and Herminius. But to accomplish his design; he intreated Herminius to stay with him, and desir'd those two persons that they would please to go a side into a little Garden separated from the great one, where there was a little knot of flowers, enclos'd with pales and myrtles. So that these two fair virgins seeing there was no great danger in do∣ing what Artemidorus desir'd, enter'd into it. Which they had no sooner done, but they beheld Aronces ap∣pear, coming forth of a little Arbor at a corner of the Garden. This sight surpris'd them strangely, but e∣specially Clelia, who in the first instant resented no∣thing but joy in seeing her dear Aronces. Who, as soon as he beheld her, saluted her very respectfully, and approacht towards her with all the transport that a true love can cause in a Lover, whose heart is tender and sensible, when he again sees the Person he loves, after a long absence. I have at length, Ma∣dam, (said he to her) in spight of all the obstacles that oppose my happiness, at least the satisfaction of being able to tell you all my misfortunes, and to un∣derstand from your mouth, what you will command me to do. Being assur'd Valeria knows all the secrets of your heart, that she is generous, good and faith∣ful, I have been willing she should know I am here; for tho I have the unhappiness to have a father who is Tarquin's Protector, yet, I think, I ought not to be suspected by her. You have reason my Lord (an∣swered that discreet Virgin) not to be distrustful of me; for I have so high an esteem of your vertue, that excepting Clelia, there is no person in the world was more affected with your loss than my self: and indeed (added she) I see already so much fright upon Cle∣lia's countenance, for seeing you so near Rome, where you have more violent enemies than you believe, that I cannot but fear lest you should be seen. And therefore whilst you are speaking with Clelia, it will be convenient for me to take care that you be not perceiv'd. Clelia would have withheld her; but she retir'd back to the gate, where Artemidorus and Her∣minins were discoursing together, and from whence she might see, but not hear them. Assoon as she was at a convenient distance, Clelia addressing to him, I confess to you, Aronces, (said she) the first senti∣ment I had in seeing you, afforded me joy, but alas! my reason begins to destroy it; for my father hates you almost as much as he formerly lov'd you; Hora∣tius loves me more ardently than ever; his Kins∣man is the second Consul, and Publicola is not at Rome. My brother no doubt is alwayes for your in∣terests; but my father has so strong a belief it was you that wounded him in the battel, that he cannot indure you should be nam'd in his presence; and when he goes to exaggerate your wounding of his son with the same sword he had given you hereto∣fore, he is so transported against you, that my mo∣ther dares not so much as offer to excuse you. I have here understood this unjust accusation by Artemidorus (answered Aronces); but if it were as easie for me to be happy, as it will be to justifie my self from it, I should be less to be pityed than I am. For it was not possible for me to have that sword at the battel, in which I served Rome happily enough, and Octavius was wounded, since Tarquin caus'd me to be put in prison at my departure out of Rome, and it was ta∣ken from me; and when I got out of prison, there was no care taken to restore it to me; for I under∣stood the Prince had given it to an Officer who took me. Besides, the sword I had in the battel when I was taken with Horatius, was broken in my hands before I was made prisoner. Thus this accusation fals of it self; and if I had known it sooner, I should have long since been justified in the opinion of Cle∣lius and Octavius. As for my brother (answered she) he has been generous to believe that you wound∣ed him unawares, and to say, it did not belong to the son of Clelius to revenge an injury done to the Prince of Numidia. But, for my father, tho he may be convinc'd, you did not wound my brother, he will not restore you to the place you held in his heart, as long as the King of Hetruria shall be Tarquin's Protector, and Rome's enemy. Not but that he speaks

things which seem to have some contrariety; for if you should desert the party of the King your father, and come to side with Rome, he would think the acti∣on unworthy of you; and however, when you do all that you ought, he will account you unworthy of me; and to this effect, he speaks to me as often as occasion is presented. But what then must I do (answered A∣ronces) can I not be the Son of the King of Hetruria? Does it depend on me to cause him to take which side pleases me; Can I be suspected to love Tarquin, to hate so many illustrious Friends as I have at Rome, and not to prefer you above all things? Is it in my power to reverse the Laws and Reason, and to cause Vertue to permit me to bear Arms against the King my Father, and not to bear them against a Ri∣val so couragious and redoubtable as Horatius. I be∣seech you, Madam, (continu'd he) consider well the state of my fortune, as I am going to represent it to you, and then pronounce absolutely upon it. I know you have a great mind, a heart very noble, and a soul extreamly generous; and I will also believe that you love me as much as you can love, tho in a degree infinitely below that in which I love you; therefore I engage my self confidently to do what ever you shall appoint me. But, I beseech you, have some consi∣deration of my glory, as I should have of yours; and if you can find no means to reconcile my love and my honour, and to make me be both innocent and happy, I conjure you command me to die; for death shall be more sweet to me, than the cruel adventure of losing you, or committing a dishonourable acti∣on would be. Alas! my Lord, (reply'd Clelia) what do you desire of an unfortunate person? Would you have her counsel you against her own interests? By no means (answered Aronces) for I have none separated from yours; but I desire you would tell me positively what you would have me to do; and especially (added he) do not treat me as the Son of the King of Hetruria; remember the un∣known Aronces, and believe you can do nothing more disobliging to me, than to speak as you did but now. I desire your pardon for it (said she to him) but since you will have me tell you what I think, first tell me how you came hither; for I believ'd you full a prisoner. Aronces then obeying Clelia, told her in few words, all that had befallen him since he last saw her, tho she knew a good part of it before, He told her likewise of the visit he had receiv'd from the Queen his Mother, and the Princess of the Leontines, and of the proposition the Queen had made him to feign himself amorous of that Princess, that he might know whether Clelia, who had a scru∣pulous mind would not take it ill that he consented to it, tho it was onely to hinder the King of Ceres's Daughter from being propounded to him in mar∣riage. He added, that, seeing himself in so unhap∣py a condition, without being able to resolve what he should do, he excited so much pity, in him that guarded him in the Castle whereinto he was put, that tho he hazarded very much to satisfie him, he let him go forth one night upon his word, with an oath to return the third day, at the same hour. But how will your guards (said Clelia) not perceive that you are not in the Castle? By pretending that I am sick, (answer'd he) and that I am not wil∣ling to admit any person to see me. And the bet∣ter to colour the pretence, there is a Slave lies in my bed; and another, who is privy to the business, makes shew of waiting upon me, according to his ordinary custome; and besides he that commands those that guard me, is so much at the devotion of the Queen my Mother, who, he knows, em∣braces all my interests, that he hazards himself less in obliging me. But in brief, generous Clelia, the main importance is to consider, what I may, and what I ought to do. If I side with Rome, I am an un∣natural Son, I ruin my self in the opinions of all per∣sons of honour, and consequently in that of Clelius; I serve my Rival, I defend his life, and fight for his party; but yet I am near you, I see you daily, and dispute the possession of your heart against the me∣rits of my enemies. On the other side, if I serve the King my Father, I do that which vertue and honour obliges me to, and I see my self with my sword in hand against Horatius; but withal I serve Tarquin and Sextus, whom I hate in perfection, I am an enemy to Clelius and Octavius, my dearest Friends, Vertue, Rome, and to all that is dearest to me; and which is most cruel, I am absent from you, I abandon you in a manner to my Rival, and I have onely your constancy to put an obstacle to his hap∣piness. Thus, on which side soever I consider my condition, I am alwayes the most miserable of men. There might be a third course propounded to me; but as for that, Madam, I confess to you, I cannot embrace it, and that it is not possible for me to re∣solve to continue in prison, without taking one side; and poorly to expect the end of the War, inclos'd within four walls, without doing any thing but a∣gainst my self and you, whilst Horatius is covering himself with glory, and forcing Clelia to recom∣pence his services. This being so there are but two things to be examin'd; speak therefore, Madam, and pronounce absolutely what my destiny must be. If I were happy enough to see the King my Father, as equitable in his sentiments for you as the Queen my Mother, I should have other matters to propound to you; but altho a King's Son, I have no assur∣ed retreat to offer you any where, tho I where a∣ble to perswade you to follow my Fortune. And moreover you have so often told me, you can never render me happy, if Clelius consent not to it, that your vertue supports mine in this occasion. But af∣ter all, (added he, transported with the excess of his Love) Why do not we couragiously abandon our selves and the interests of Rome, and go to a∣nother end of the World, to seek a Sanctuary where we may live together? Our vertue would find us Protectors every where; and if your sentiments were like mine, we would be unhappy in no place, provided our Fortune were inseparable. I beseech you, (answer'd Clelia, discreetly) let us not a∣muse our selves to speak of a matter, whereof we ought not to think, and which we shall never do. Consider then the two proposals I have made you, (reply'd he) and then tell the unhappy Aronces what you please shall become of him. You know so well (answer'd Clelia) that I will never counsel you to do any thing you may be reproacht for, and which may be prejudicial to you, that you might spare me the grief of telling you my self, that you ought to follow that which reason directs you to; what that is, would be something difficult for me to tell you; and all that I can do, is to conjure you, that when you are in the War, you will remember my Father and my Brother may possibly be amongst the enemies you fight against, that you may avoid meeting them with your sword in your hand; for

if by ill Fate you should wound either of them two, you know I eannot without a crime retain any kindness longer for you. Think upon this my dear Aronces, and be generous enough to serve the cruel Tarquin and unjust Sextus with regret; but above all things (added she blushing) when you feign love to the Princess of Leontines, who I am told is very aimable, defend your heart against her charms, and remember whilst you are with her, there is an unfortunate person at Rome, who will treat Horatius ill for your sake, and who is like to be ill treated her self, because she will persist faith∣ful to you. Ah! Madam, (cry'd Aronces) can you think me capable of such a weakness as this? No, (answer'd Clelia) but I can fear it, tho I cannot be∣lieve it. That distinction is very nice, (reply'd he) for people use not to fear except that which they can believe, and no person ever much apprehended impossible things. Do not fear therefore, Ma∣dam, that I can ever cease to love you, for you shall be alwayes my first and last Mistress; and there is onely glory alone that has any share of my heart with you, tho I am perswaded I should love it much less than I do, If I lov'd not you. Live then with satisfaction in this respect, and suffer me to fear with more reason, that whilst I shall act by con∣straint as an enemy of Rome, the love of your Coun∣trey may destroy a love so just and innocent as mine in your heart, and that whilst I am fighting against Horatius, as a redoubtable Rival, he do not get the advantage of me in your affection. He will see you every day, you will hear nothing but vowes made against me, all will be dissembled that makes for my advantage, and you will hear no good spoken of the unhappy Aronces, but what you shall speak to your self in seeret. On the contrary, all the actions of the Romans shall be imbellish'd and extoll'd, and e∣specially those of my Rival; so that by degrees it may come to pass, that you may change your senti∣ments, and I shall be left to die with despair. No, no, my dear Aronces, (answered Clelia) do not fear, I will be ever guilty of any inconstancy towards you; or at least do not fear I can ever be capable of loving, after I have lov'd you. But that which afflicts me, is, that I cannot make vows for your party, but shall be enforc'd to make such as are contrary to it; and I doubt also whether strict vertue will permit me to make any for you in particular. However, I am resolv'd I will (added she without giving him leasure to interrupt her) and at the same time that I pray to the Gods Rome may gain the victory, I will beseech them to preserve you, and hinder you from hurting all the persons which ought to be dear to me; and thus accommodating my innocence and my affection the best I can, I shall no doubt lead the unhappiest life in the World. But there is remedy; for as I should not forsake the interest of my Father for your sake, so I will not oblige you to abandon those of yours for mine: Besides, as I told you, it would be no advantage to you with Clelius. Go then my dear Aronces; let us at least have no∣thing to reproach our selves for; perhaps our Pa∣tience will weary our bad Fortune, and oblige the Gods to render us happy. For when I reflect that it is possible for you to be discover'd, and that if the Consul Horatius knew you were here, you would be arrested the next moment, my mind is extreamly inquieted. The King of Hetruria would think that you caus'd your self to be arrested, my Father perhaps, would accuse me of having con∣sented to to it, and indeed you would not be very happy to be a prisoner, in a place where I should no more see you, than if you were in the enemies Camp, where you would be prejudiced in all re∣spects, where you would perhaps at last depend on your enemies, and whence you would not be re∣leas'd till the end of the War. Therefore 'tis bet∣ter for you to be in a place, where you may serve my Father, my Brother, and your Friends, if they happen to become Prisoners to your side, and from whence perhaps I may also somtimes receive tidings from you. You have then absolutely dotermin'd what my destiny must be (reply'd Aronces). I have not, (answered Clelia) but being I can never desire any thing that is unjust, I submit my will to reason, and content my self to beseech you to love me for e∣ver, and to believe, that I shall be so faithful to you, that in case you should prove inconstant, I should ne∣ver love any person after. Be confident, Madam (re∣ply'd Aronces), you shall never have occasion to testi∣fie that kind of fidelity: but if you do not promise me (added he) to be as fully assur'd of my constancy as I will be of yours, I think, I shall not be able to re∣turn; but without considering the particulars of my destiny, I will go find out Clelius. And withal (added he) I will undeceive him of the opinion he has of my wounding Octavius. It shall suffice (answer'd Clelia) that the Prince Artemidorus will take care to justifie you without your intermedling in it your self. In the mean time (added she) I think it fit to confide in Herminius, whose probity can never be suspected by those to whom he is known. 'Tis my intention, (reply'd Aronces): but before I see him, permit me, Madam, to bid you adieu here apart, since my hard Fate will not suffer me to continue with you; for the sentiments of an amorous heart ought not to be divided.

Tell me then, Madam, that you will love me, that you will pity me, and that as soon as you can I shall be happy: and to assure you yet more of my fidelity, and take away all cause of doubting of it, know, that as often as you please, I will come, and give you an account of my actions, though I be put to enter Rome without a disguise; that as of∣ten as you please you shall make my arms fall out of my hands; and in a word, that you shall be always absolute Mistress of my destiny. But permit me also to hope that I shall have a share in all your thoughts, and that you can never be happy, till you have ren∣der'd me so. I promise you, (answer'd this fair per∣son): but alas! (added she sighing) I fear we shall be alwayes miserable, at least, I know I am not able to foresee by what means we shall ever become other∣wise. Tarquin may die, (reply'd Aronces), the inte∣rests of the King my Father may change, I may per∣haps bend his mind, peace may be concluded, Clelius may cease to be unjust, and Horatius may be con∣strain'd to relinquish that which does not belong to him: therefore it is to he hop'd, that at length, by wayes which are unknown to us, Heaven will ren∣der us happy. 'Tis requisite indeed (said Clelia) to take up a hope to our selves, tho upon ill grounds, to avoid despair: but to speak sincerely, Fear is the Mi∣stress in my heart. Yet I will hide part of it, (conti∣nu'd she) and content my self to conjure you to pre∣serve your self for my sake. And now suffer me to call Valeria, Artimedorus, and Herminius, that you may depart; for tho the sight of you causes all the

sweetness of my life, yet I shall have no quiet, till I know you are return'd into your prison, where at least your life is in safety. Alas! I beseech you, Ma∣dam, (answer'd Aronces) that I may speak onely three or four words more to you, Speak them, (re∣ply'd she) but speedily; for when once one has but three or four words to speak, 'tis almost as good to be silent. Alas! Madam (cry'd he) you know not what Love is, if you account three or four words no∣thing, since 'tis true, one favourable word affords a thousand and a thousand pleasures to remember it. Therefore give me some to keep in my memory, and to comfort me during an absence whose continuance is uncertain. Tell me then too, discreet person as you are, whether you love me? Alas! (answer'd Clelia) can you doubt of what I think, and can it be necessary to tell you that which has been prov'd to you by a thou∣sand testimonies of dearness? If it be not absolutely necessary, (reply'd he, looking upon her with much love) yet it is perfectly delightful: tell me then po∣sitively that you love me, and that you will love me eternally, to the end I may have something to supply me with comfort in my greatest misfortunes. I tell you all that can comfort you (answered Clelia): but after this ask no more of me, for I have nothing but tears to give you. Clelia had no sooner ended these words, but she made a sign to Valeria, that she should oblige Artemidorus and Herminius to approach to∣wards them; and accordingly having fastned the door of this little Garden, they drew altogether. Then Aronces made a thousand caresses to Herminius; for as for Artemidorus he had seen him the evening before, having first discover'd and intrusted himself to him. Yet the discourse of these persons was not long, be∣cause Clelia was in such fear, least Aronces should be discover'd, that she was not satisfi'd till he was with∣drawn into the Gardener's house, where he had pas∣sed the preceding night. Nevertheless Aronces first told Artemidorus and Herminius the reasons which oblig'd him to serve the King his Father against Rome, he intreated them to disabuse Clelius of that opinion, that it was he that had wounded Octavius, he conjur'd them to serve him with their mediation to him, to speak alwayes in his favour to Clelia, and to pity him, for being of a side, on which his heart was not, and not to love him less for it. It is so ordi∣nary (answer'd Herminius) to see brave persons in∣gag'd to make war for unjust causes, that there is no intelligent person, but instead of blaming, will ad∣mire that which you do; and I am confident Clelius will esteem you more for continuing fixt to the in∣terest of the King your Father, than it the love you bear to Clelia oblig'd you to come and side with Rome. For after you alone have caus'd us to gain the Battle, which put us in power to defend our selves, it is easie to know that if honour permitted you, you would do that again for Rome which you have done against its enemies. Be therefore assur'd, that for my part, I shall promote your interests vi∣gorously, and that it shall be no fault of mine, if ju∣stice be not rendred to your Vertue. After this, these two illustrious Friends parted, but Artemido∣rus continu'd with Aronces, till the beginning of night, when he was to go away. Yet this generous Lover took his leave a second time of Clelia, with more dearness and tenderness than before. Hermi∣nius would willingly have staid with Aronces, as well as Artemidorus; but it was fear'd, that might cause it to be suspected, that there was some person hidden in the Garden; wherefore he went away with Cle∣lia and Valeria, to rejoyn with Cesonia and Plotinae, whom they beheld going out at the end of a walk, with an old man whom they did not know: who likewise took leave of them in that place, and went into the little Garden where Aronces and Artemidorus were. Well (said Herminius to Cesonia and Plotina) may I know your secret as well as I do that of Cle∣lia and Valeria's. No question but you shall know it, (answer'd Plotina) for I have so great need of the generous Sevelia, that without her I should scarce know what to do with the secret which has been re∣veal'd to me. In the mean time (added she) since there is no person here in whom I may confide, I shall not scruple to say, that this secret is so impor∣tant to me, that it has inform'd me I am not what I alwayes took my self to be; for I believ'd I was born at Ardea, and I was not; I thought I was the Daugh∣ter of a man, who was only Friend to my late Mother, and I am quite another Person than what I ima∣gin'd. Clelia hearing Plotina speak thus, could not contain, notwithstanding the other imployment of of her thoughts, from asking her who she was. Alas! my dear Clelia, (answer'd she) perhaps you will know but too soon; however, I would tell you at this instant, but having been made to promise not to speak of it yet, I must be contented to tell you, that I am that, which I should never have believ'd I could be; and I conjure you to promise me, that when you know who I am, you will not love me for it less. I assure you (reply'd Clelia) that the friendship I have for you being founded upon your merit, tho your birth should be less noble than I have believ'd it, I would not change the sentiment, I have for you. That which you say is very gene∣rous (said Cesonia) but 'tis not for that considerati∣on Plotina fears you would love her less; for her birth is nobler than she believ'd, but however, I am confident she will not tell it you presently; for he that can unfold this riddle, is oblig'd to return this night to a prison whence he came forth, to ex∣pect till a great Princess deliver him from it; and af∣ter that he will come back to Rome, to inform you really who Plotina is. Nevertheless (added Cesonia, speaking to Clelia) continue to love her dearly; for tho she sayes, she fears you should love her less, yet I must assure you that, on the contrary, you will think your self oblig'd to love her more. After this these Ladies went into their Chariot, and Herminius re∣turn'd on horseback. On the other side, night was no sooner come, but Aronces, and that old man, who so long entertain'd Cesonia and Plotina, return'd to the prison from whence they came, for this man came along with Aronces to Rome. As for Clelia be∣ing she look'd upon all secrecy as criminal, she told Sulspicia she had seen Aronces, and she told Octavius likewise, to the end to satisfie him that Aronces could not have been the Person that wounded him, and this prudent Lady so faithfully related to them all the generous sentiments of that iliustrious Prince, that they admir'd his vertue, and became confirm'd in the resolution to serve him still with greater ardour. To which purpose they oblig'd Artemidorus to tell Clelius he had understood at Clusium, that when Aronces was arrested by Tar∣quin, his sword was taken way from him, so to evince him that Octavius receiv'd not his wound from his hand; adding that he wondred the truth was not conjectur'd, it being a general order to

disarm all such as are put into prison: Whereby continued Artemidorus, it is easie for you to judge, that that sword you sometimes gave to Aronces, and which was drawn out of Octavius's body after the battle, was not in Aronces's hands when he was wounded by it; for when a prisoner escapes out of prison, it is not possible for him, to regain the sword which was taken from him. Besides that, I have been assur'd Tarquin gave that which was yours to one of his Officers. Tho Aronces were innocent of the wounding Octavius (interrupted Clelius) it should not much advantage him in my favour; for since he is the Son of Porsenna, who is Tarquin's Protector, and consequently Rome's enemy, there needs no more to make me hate him. Yet you do not hate Telanus and Mamilius (answer'd Artemidorus) tho they be Veien∣tines, and the State of Veii a declared enemy to that of Rome. Mamilius and Telanus (reply'd Clelius) are two particular persons, who in their hearts do not approve the actions of those that govern their City. But Aronces is an illustrious unfortunate person (an∣swer'd Artemidorus) who resents with much regret, Porsenna's undertaking the protection of Tarquin. Whether that be so or no (reply'd Clelius), all that I can answer is, that I consider nothing more than the interest of my Country, that there is nothing I do not think my self oblig'd to sacrifice for it, and that rather then be ingrateful to it, I had rather be so to Aronces. Tho indeed having done as much for him, as he has for me, I do not look upon my self as liable to an accusation of ingratitude, tho I should hate him as much as I have lov'd him. Ar∣temidorus was desirous to pross him further, but per∣ceiving no effect of his mediation, but a further exasperation of his disgust, he broke off his dis∣course. Two daies after Publicola brought back the Army, for the reasons before mention'd; but tho the pretence of his return was an intention to spare the blood of the people, to avoid giving bat∣tle again, and to cause the enemies Army to perish before their Wals, if they should dare to march a∣gainst them, yet his return caus'd a great commoti∣on amongst the people. For the solicitousness of Publicola and the second Consul, in fortifying all the out-places of Rome, in redoubling the City guard, and commanding all the Corn which was about in the Country, to be brought in thither, and all the the moveables of private persons, who had houses in the Country, the people well understood, that they who were acquainted with the secrecy of affairs, certainly foresaw, that Rome would ere long be sur∣rounded with a leagure. Whereupon every one ta∣king order for his particular subsistance, it was not possible for this to be done without some trouble and confusion. All the Streets of this spatious City were seen cover'd with chariots, horses, and with terrifi'd and afflicted people. Some were driving flocks, others removing houshold-stuff, some were loaden with corn and fruits, whilst others not solieitous of their goods, only lead their Wives and children into a place of safety. There were some that gave out they had seen the forces appear, tho it was not true; others lying after them, and encreasing their untruth, related sto∣ries of the disorders those forces had committed. They nam'd the Villages which they had burn'd, and told so many circumstances of violences committed by them, that they caus'd affrightment in all that heard them. The people thronging into the City, the Gates of it were not sufficient to receive all those conveniently, who endeavour'd to retire into it; so that there was a great tumult in the waies, gates, and streets; all the Tradesmen desisted from their works, and only beheld all these several passages with ex∣tream sadness. There was also so great a dispositi∣on in them to murmur, that there was no person who did not complain. The poor said they only should suffer during the siege, and the rich were ve∣ry forward to ingage in the war, because they knew well, that they should not undergo the inconveni∣ences of it. They who inclin'd to Monarchy, said it was very incommodious to have so many Masters; Others, that all changes never brought any thing but mischief along with them; some others zealous for li∣berty quarrelled with these, and maintain'd it was better to devour one another for hunger, and set fire to their City, than ever to yield to Tarquin. Some said it was not the best course to expect to be besieg'd, but rather to draw all the Romans out, and go and meet the enemy; others, that they would defend their wals, their wives, their children, their hou∣shold-gods: but did not think fit to go and give bat∣tle: and the wifer and more understanding sort of people, endeavouring to reprove the multitude for their precipitious fear, fell into fury themselves, be∣cause they could not satisfie the people. Upon which Publicola having assembled the Senate, it was resolv∣ed, the only way to bring the people into their du∣ty was to flatter them. To which purpose several Ordinances favourable to the Commonalty were constituted; for they were dispensed with from con∣tributing to the charge of the war; a reasonable rate was set upon such things as were necessary for subsistance; the publick magazines were open'd; they were assur'd of all things necessary, as abun∣dantly as the rich; it was given out by persons ap∣pointed to that purpose, that the enemies were not so strong, as was believ'd; shew was made of not fearing them; and the chief of the Senate made feasts out of policy, to intimate to the people, that they did not fear the wanting of any thing. So that as it is sometimes no less easie to appease a multi∣tude than to move them, within two dayes all the Tradesmen betook themselves to their callings as before; all the people that came out of the circum∣jacent villages were dispos'd of in lodgings; and the false news changing the appearance of things, the same people who lately publisht other tidings so fa∣tal and disadvantageous to Rome, now related a hun∣dred contrary to Tarquin and Porsenna, which tho they had no probability in them very often, yet there did not want some to believe them. In the mean time all these divers rumors hindred Clidamira and Berelisa, from finishing their journey to Praeneste, con∣ceiving it better to remain still at Rome, tho it were besieg'd, than to put themselves upon the way, at a time wherein there was yet no establisht per∣mission, and every one was taken for an enemy; besides that Artemidorus being at Rome, they had no great business any where else. As for Anacreon he thought himself ••o well there, that he could not resolve to depart from thence so soon. Themistus believing he could not pass the time of his exile more nobly than in beholding so important an acti∣on as this, which fortune presented to him, resolv'd to continue there to that end; Meregines and his o∣ther friend did the same; Artemidorus and Zenocra∣tes were not solicitous to go away, for several rea∣sons; and Amilcar was then so strongly engaged to

Rome, that he did not think he should ever leave it. Amongst these illustrious persons was still enjoy'd part of the pleasures of peace, notwithstanding all the preparations for war. Yet the pretences for walking entertainments, were something relating to military affairs; for whereas formerly the Ladies were wont to make a walk to hear musick, they now went to behold the forces muster'd in the field of Mars, or see the pioneers making fortifications in several places of the City. Amidst all these distur∣bances, Love did not cease to exercise his dominion. Nevertheless, Spurius perceiv'd his affection did not so much proceed from the dearness he had for Valeria, as the hatred he bore to Herminius, Aemili∣us, and Mutius, who understanding himself not so dextrous as his Rivals, in all those little diligences which Love inspires people with, whose genius is na∣turally sprightly, took up a thought to surpas's them all in greatness of courage, and to exployt such extroardinary actions during the War, that Publico∣la should not dare to refuse Valeria to him, and his Rivals have no longer the boldness to pretend to her to his prejudice. As for Horatius, he had then more hope than ever before; Aronces was lost in Clelius's favour, himself was very powerful in Rome, his Rival was in the Party of the Enemies, and he pretended his services to the Republick should be so considerable, as that nothing could reasonably be refused at the end of the War. Octavius, as soon as he began to go abroad, went to visit Hermilia; and finding her still possess'd with a sadness which something corresponded with his present humour, he was pleas'd no where so much as in her com∣pany. At this time it was known, that the Prince of Messene, instead of going to Rome, as it was believ'd, went and sided with the enemies party, to be opposite to Themistus, who thereby found himself more engaged, to pass all the time of his exile at Rome, and serve that State during the War. As for Clelia, though the posture of her Fortune was very unhappy, yet she resented much consolation in having seen Aronces, and perceiv'd in his eyes, she had all the reason in the World to hope he would be constant, and that all the ob∣stacles ill fortune should obstruct their happiness with, would not change his sentiment. Plotina, after what she had understood from that old man who came with Artemidorus, was affected with a secret joy, which would have been perfectly sweet, if it had not been allay'd with the impatience she had, because she could not discover it. But tho this sometimes gave her occasion to muse, she was not much the more melancholy, but took all oppor∣tunities to delight her self. Amilcar being one day in her chamber, at the same time with Valeria, Be∣relisa, Clidamira, and Cesonia, there was occasion offer'd her to exercise her pleasant humour; for as it chanc'd Acrisius who talk'd too much, Sicinius who was too silent, and Damon who was of the Sect of Pythagoras, coming thither, Amilcar, and she, diverted themselves much to the disadvantage of these three Rivals, and especially of the last. While this company was speaking of several indifferent things, Anacreon and Herminius enter'd and said, they had newly learn'd some tidings which much af∣fected them with compassion. Valeria demanded what they imported? whereupon, Herminius addres∣sing to her, I understand (said he) the unfortunate Calianthus, who, as you know, desir'd permission to build a Tomb for his two Rivals, who were slain in the last Battle, is himself slain by a party of the enemies, in defending the Tomb which he caus'd to be built. So that of four Lovers, who contested together, there is none living but Melicrates. Since none could be happy but he, (answer'd Acrisius) it is as good that they are dead; for what is life good for, when that cannot be injoy'd which only is ca∣pable to render it delightful? Acrisius would have proceeded farther, if Plotina had suffered him to speak, but the better to silence him, she began to la∣ment Calianthus, with much exaggeration; the other Ladies pitied him likewise, and Anacreon himself, as great a friend of joy as he was, testified his com∣miseration of his Fate. For my part (said Da∣mon then, who alwayes spoke according to the sen∣timents of Pythagoras) my soul is not so sensible of compassion towards those who dye, as those who suffer any pain; for according to my apprehensi∣ons, such as dye, only change their Country and con∣dition, but do not cease to be, so that the conti∣nual change which all souls undergo, makes their sorrow unjust who afflict themselves so much for the death of those we know, if they be not abso∣lutely necessary to our felicity. For my part, (said Plotina) I know not how you understand it; but if I were of your opinion, I should not be much com∣forted in dying, tho I should know my Soul were to pass into the body of the most jolly Turtle in the World; and besides, were what you say true, peo∣ple would have some remembrance of things they had known before. But I am well assur'd I remem∣ber nothing; and I believe too with sufficient cer∣tainty, that when I shall be dead, I shall no longer remember any thing which I speak at present. Your education (answer'd Damon) having been a∣mongst such persons who were not instructed by the learned in the Doctrine of Pythagoras, it is no great wonder if you do not comprehend what I say. How∣ever, 'tis certain, there is nothing more consenta∣neous to reason than the opinion of that Philosopher in this point. For whereas the gods, who are Ma∣sters of the World, change nothing in their work∣manship, but we see alwaies the same Seas, the same Rivers, the same Mountains, that they have fram'd a certain number of Stars, which neither increases nor diminishes; it is easie to imagine that they have also created a certain number of Souls, which con∣tinually pass from one body to another, according to their pleasure. So that many times we bewail people, who are in a condition more happy than that which they have forsaken. But what serves this present happiness for, (said Plotina) since I re∣member a past felicity no longer, and I have reason to say, The things we remember no longer, are no longer ours. But; Madam, (replyed he, shaking his head a little) it is not be imagin'd, there is none in the World remembers what has been formerly; for I have heard several Disciples of Pythagoras af∣firm, there are some, who remember the actions of a precedent life perfectly. But do you remember (said Acrisius) what you have been? I am not so as vain to profess it, (answer'd Damon gravely;) for this seldome happens, but to persons who are of so exquisite a temper, as that all the faculties of their Souls are in their utmost perfection, by reason that the Bodies which they animate, are so well dis∣pos'd, that nothing impedes or disturbs their ima∣gination, memory, or judgement. I must then ask all

that are present (said Plotina) if they remember any thing. For my part (said Cesonia) I am very un∣likely to remember what I was before my being what I am; for I scarce remember what I did ye∣sterday. And I (said Anacreon) am so taken up with the present, that I cannot reflect upon what is past. To speak my thoughts (said Valeria), the future takes up my mind more than any thing else, so that 'tis no wonder if I remember nothing. I remember ma∣ny past things (said Berelisa), but they are only such as I have seen with my own eies. I am much like you in that (answered Clidamira), for I know ma∣ny things which I shall not forget during my life, but they are not of the nature of those Damon speaks of. I confess (said Sicinius then smiling) I so little love to speak of that which befals me, that tho I should remember what I have been, before I became what I am, I think I should not declare it. For my part (said Acrisius) if I remembered any thing I should willingly tell it. I know not (said Herminius) whe∣ther it be the fault of my constitution, or of this Doctrine, but I remember nothing at all. Whilst the Company was discoursing thus, Amilcar ap∣pear'd pensive and musing, and spoke not at all; upon which Plotina, not doubting but he was con∣triving some subtilty, asked him, whether he would not declare if he remember'd what he had been before his last coming into the World. Amil∣car, then returning from his feigned musing, an∣swered ambiguously, and forc'd Plotina to command him to speak what he really thought. Sincerely (said he to her) you are a cruel person, to constrain me to be of the same opinion with one of my Rivals. How? (interrupted Plotina hastily, making shew of being astonisht) is it possible an African should be of the Sect of Pythagoras? 'Tis to no purpose to deny it, (answer'd he, with a tone something serious): I am not only charm'd with his Doctrine, but convinc't of it too by my own experience; and if I were at Metopontium or at Crotona, I should speak more freely of these matters than at Rome, where this opinion is not follow'd, though it be not ge∣nerally condemned. At least, I know the memo∣ry of Pythagoras is in veneration here, and it is not unknown, that he was the wisest Philosopher that ever more that name, the most gentle and humane. For, to give the more weight to this discourse, (added he) it is sufficiently apparent, that he was truely perswaded of the transmigration of Souls out of some bodies into others; since this, no doubt, was the cause of forbidding the use of any sort of living Creatures for food. You have made a great secret of your opinion (reply'd Plotina, who un∣derstood he derided Damon) but to punish you for your dissimulation, tell us, in brief, whether you, who have so handsome a wit, so quick a fancy, so faithful a memory, and a constitution so perfect, have yet any remembrance of what you were, be∣fore you came to be Amilcar. 'Tis cortain (said Damon then) that truth constrains me to say, I ne∣ven knew any man so fit as he, to remember what he was before his last birth: for he is of that hap∣py temper wherein the Soul is so dis-intangled from the combersomeness of the Senses, that she may seem to be able to unloosen her self from them, and act without them, whensoever she pleases. I beseech you my dear Rival, (answer'd Amilcar with seem∣ing anger) let us not mock one another in so good Company, by publishing things which they will not believe. I engage my self to make you be be∣liev'd by above half those that are present, (said Plotina pleasantly): therefore tell us whether you re∣member you were any thing, before you were the same Person which I see you. In the name of the gods (said Damon than speaking to Amilcar) if it has pleas'd destiny to make your birth so happy, as that you are one of the number of those, who have the preheminence to know what they have formerly been, speak it confidently, in the averment of a truth of highest importance, which perhaps you may convince some persons of, who may after∣wards propagate it to all the most illustrious in Rome, Herminius observing, Damon's zeal for Pythagoras's Doctrine, made him liable to be abus'd, for the di∣vertisement of the Company entreated Amilcar to declare, as the rest, all that his memory inform'd him of. Valeria did the like; Berelisa, Clidamira, and Cesonia added their requests; Acrisius importun'd him to it; Acreon desir'd him to do it, and Sicinius made a consenting sign to him, to signifie that his desires were the same with those of all the Company; after which Plotina commanding him to speak, he did so in this manner; I am going to obey you, Madam, (said he to her) but I beseech your favour, not to reveal that which I shall tell you, and withal oblige those who are present to keep fidelity to me; for 'tis no great pleasure to be shewn in the Streets for a man, to whom extraordinary things has happen∣ed. Amilcar seem'd so serious in these worde, that Plotina was almost ready to believe that he spoke in earnest. But at length all the Company hiving promis'd not to promulgate what he should tell them, he studi'd for some time and, seeming wholly recollected in him self, spoke in these words, addres∣sing his words to Plotina. When you shall have heard what I have to tell you, (said he) you will less won∣der at the boldness I have in loving you; for I have not alwaies been a Wit. 'Tis true my Soul has expe∣rimented a great varietie of different Fortunes, and this very Spirit, which animates me, has pass'd through several bodies of no mutual resemblance. Moreover (added he, with a grave and imperious as∣pect) it must not be imagin'd that I speak without knowing what induces me to it; for tho I may seem a person fitter to compose a jovial Sonnet, than to understand the whole doctrine of Pythagoras to the bottome, yet if I embrac'd it, I would clearly give you to understand the most obscure matters, and so unfold to you the necessity that there be eternally a prefixt number of Souls in the whole Universe, ani∣mating all the Bodies in it, that afterwards there would be no place left to doubt of all the doctrine of Pythagoras. For it being constantly true, (conti∣nu'd he, after having made all the appearances of one that has a good opinion of that which he speaks, and who nevertheless studies a little what he desires to express) that the principles of things consist in numbers, that proportion and Symetry are found every where, and that the harmony which results from this exactness, is, that which maintains the World, it is easie to understand, that the number of Souls is not unequal. The order of the Universe is alwaies equal; there is neither more nor less master in one age than in another; a Tree puts forth leaves in the Spring, those leaves fals at Autum, and the Tree renders back to the Earth all it received from it, and if it be burnt, the ashes return to the same place with the leaves. People delight to make Wa∣ter-courses

to divide Rivers, and cause Fountains to spurt forth; yet there is not one drop of water less in all the Universe, in which is made a continual trans∣mutation of all bodies. Since therefore matter is al∣waies equal, why should any imagine Souls not to be so too? The Stars are alwaies in the same number, as Damon hath well observ'd; we see but one Moon and one Sun; and, were it not incongruous to make shew of learning before Ladies, I should swear to you by the number of Four, which is the greatest oath of Pythagoras's Disciples, you would soon believe all that I do. For my part (said Plotina) I am already almost wholly dispos'd to believe you; but being I alwaies love Examples more than Reasons, and the principles of things and numbers are otherwise be∣yond my understanding, I intreat you to imagine I believe there is a certain number of Souls which pass successefully into the Bodies of Men and Beasts; for I am ready to die with desire, to know what beast or Heroe you have been. Ah! Madam, (cry'd Da∣mon, who heartily wisht Amilcar had convinc'd her of his opinion) persons that believe so easily, do as good as not believe at all. Sincerely (answer'd she) I am the most dispos'd to hear Amilcar, that pos∣sible can be. Permit me then to speak (reply'd he); for it is not more true that the number of Ten is the most perfect of all numbers, according to the doctrine of Pythagoras, than it is true that I die with desire to tell you all I remember I have been. Speak then (said Plotina) and do not fear being in∣terrupted, unless it be to ask you some particulari∣ties, which I shall be desirous to know. Know then (answer'd he, with a very serious tone) that the most ancient thing I can call to remembrance, is my having been a great Priest in Aegypt, a long time be∣fore the first of the Pyramids which are seen there, was built. But this I remember so confusedly, that there remains nothing of it in my mind, but the knowledge of Hieroglyphicks, which, no doubt, I understand still sufficiently well, therefore I shall not detain you in speaking of it, having other things of more curiosity and divertisement to tell you. Af∣ter I dy'd in a Temple, my soul pass'd into the bo∣dy of a young Prince, of a handsome, comely, and agreeable personage. But the strangest thing is, (continu'd he very seriously) that I cannot remem∣ber, what ever endeavour I make, in what Country I liv'd; I only know, that I liv'd in a Court of great splendor, that I had an amorous inclination, that I lov'd all pleasures of Converse, and could not in∣dure solitude for so much as a quarter of an hour. I had also so great an inclination to all kind of Socie∣ty, that I remember I promis'd above half a score of young Virgins to marry them, and I know not whether or no I did not marry two or three of them. Moreover I remember very well I loved flattery, and yet was not over-liberal in rewarding flatterers; that I easily enough forgot services that were done me, that I believ'd with an equal faci∣lity all the good that was spoken of me, and all the evil, that was told me of others, and was no very commendable friend. As for War I know not whe∣ther I lov'd it or no, but I know I di'd at no great age, and that never having had leisure to think of death, nor made any reflection upon it to com∣pose my mind resolutely against it, I found my self much perplex'd when I saw it at hand; and to say truth, entertain'd it after a very unkind manner. But afterwards I was strangely astonisht, after having been in so good company, to find my self a Phoenix in Arabia, and the onely one of my kind; for without doubt, you know, Madam, there is but one Phoenix in the World. Amilcar spoke this so seriously, that none of the company had the confidence to dare to laugh; and they constrain'd themselves the more willingly, to further the mock∣ery of Damon. How (said Plotina then to him) were you a Phoenix? Yes, Madam, (answer'd he) and if I were a considerable wit, I would maintain that I am one again at present; and that after hav∣ing been a Phoenix in Arabia, I am again the Phoenix of Lovers in Rome; but because I am in a serious discourse this day, I content my self to assure you that I was really a Phoenix, and that never any thing troubled me more. I was indeed very come∣ly, and, when I beheld my self sometimes in a River, I took sufficient pleasure in the handsomness of my shape; but being I was destitute of love, and could not be otherwise, my beauty was sufficiently unpro∣fitable to me. If I should desire your picture (said Plotina) now you are Amilcar, I think it would not be seemly; but I conceive there is no great danger in intreating you to give me your pourtraiture as a Phoenix. Since you command me (answer'd A∣milcar) I will tell you that the Phoenix is as big as an Eagle, that the Feathers of his body and wings are half carnation, and half of the colour of gold; that his tail is of the most excellent blew that ever was seen, and his neck like a Rainbow, that he has a thick and large tuft upon his head of lively and well mingled colours, peircing eies, and feet resem∣bling sprayes of Coral. This is, Madam, the shape of a Phoenix, and such was I at that time: howe∣ver I was extreamly melancholy, tho I thought my self very handsome, and was in a delightful coun∣try; for there is a certain place in Arabia the Happy, where all Trees, Flowers and Herbs, have an odori∣ferous smell, where Incense is found in abundance, and where I percht my self when I pleas'd upon the Cinamon Trees. Thus a thousand agreeable odours persuming the air, and a thousand handsome objects offering themselves to my eies from all parts, it may be thought I could not be otherwise than happy. But to speak truth, it being alwaies impossible to be so without love, I was sufficiently miserable. For e∣very year in the Spring, I with envy beheld Night∣ingales singing and making love. It was in vain for me to seek for any company; I found my self al∣waies alone; other birds went together sometimes by troops, whilst I remain'd alone with my beauty in an inforc'd solitude, which was insupportable to me. But were you not happy (said Plotina) in not be∣ing subject either to love or jealousie, in being free from the trouble of building a nest like other birds, in being alwaies the goodliest bird in the World, and consequently not envious of others? Alas! Ma∣dam, (answer'd he) I accounted it better to be envi∣ous than discontented, as the Phoenix is. Where∣fore ever since (added he) I have alwaies had very great compassion of those fair women, whom jealous husbands leave in deserts in the Country, where they see nothing they can love, and where solitude is not voluntary to them; for there is nothing so ungrate∣ful, as to be constrain'd to be alone, when one de∣sires to be in company. And I can assure you, that when I had liv'd 160 years, which is the ordinary life of a Phoenix, I was infinitely joyful that I was oblig'd to build my funeral pile, which I did with

all possible expedition, with Incense, cinnamon, and other aromatical woods, in the season the Sun is hottest. After which, putting my self upon it after a faint manner, I fell asleep through tedious∣ness of my long sollitude. During my sleep, I expir'd with weakness, the Sun fir'd the pile which I had made, and reducd me into ashes, to leave some∣thing, out of which my successor might arise. More∣over, I remember very distinctly, that my last thoughts, while a Phoenix, were extremely melan∣choly, for having spent so long a life without lov∣ing any thing; for when I call'd to mind, that I had a hundred and sixty Springs, seen all the birds of my lovely desart making love to one another, I was infinitely discontented; and therefore (con∣tinu'd he) if there be any in the company, who, to their unhappiness, have made a resolution not to love any thing, let them hasten to change it; for there is nothing more tormenting at the hour of death than the affliction of having not been able to love or be belov'd. I assure you (said Valeria) I believe it is very troublesome too, to call to mind an unsuccessful or impertinent love. However it be (said Damon, who was unwilling Amilcar should be interrupted) suffer the relation to be finisht, which has been so delightfully begun; for though Amilcar alwaies mingles some raillery in what he speaks, yet credit ought to be given to his words, since all the compa∣ny knowes 'tis his custome never to speak altogether seriously of the most serious things. You have reason (answer'd Plotina) therefore I desire Amil∣car to continue his relation. After I had ceas'd being a Phoenix (said Amilcar) I chang'd my for∣tune and shape very much; for I became one of the most ugly men in the World, but in requiral one of the most valiant; for I lov'd nothing so much as war, which I follow'd continually; not but that my heart was in some sort sensible of love, though it was a kind of souldier-like Love, which does not cause much sighing, but has something of freedome and jollity in it, but seldome any great matter of courtship; and therefore I took more pleasure in re∣lating a handsome field wherein I had fought, a siege I had been present at, or a particular combate of my own, than in entertaining my self with the favours of my mistress. But perhaps (interrupted Plotina smiling) it was because you had not any great matter to say upon that subject; at least I know if any lov'd me after the military manner you have represented to me, it should be easie to reckon the favours I would do him. All women (answer'd Herminius) are not of your humor; for, some fancy those reso∣lute gallants with fierce countenances, who speak with boldness, and have kill'd men, more than po∣lite and civiler persons, who comport themselves with respect and tenderness. No doubt, Herminius has reason (replyed Amilcar) for I was not very ill treated, and my stoutness caus'd me to obtain as many favours, as my wit and courtship. 'Tis true, I did not care over much for them; and I remember one thing which makes good what I say: One day I lost a picture which I had of my mistress, as I was fighting with a man, who had set upon me at an ad∣vantage, and I was much more joyful for having taken his sword from him, than troubled for having lost the picture. Indeed when a fancy takes a man to pass for one of greater courage than others, I assure you he is sufficiently employ'd; for he is possess'd with envy, jealousie, and ambition all at a time; danger is sought with eagerness (though to speak sincerely, 'tis never delightful;) he alwayes desires to go be∣yond the rest, and is altogether uncapable of quiet. Then, 'tis sufficiently troublesome to be sometimes wounded, and sometimes a prisoner; for the Kings and Princes, for whose service you hazard or lose your lives, take little care of you. However, since 'tis the mode, it ought to be follow'd and I fol∣low'd it so well, that I was but twenty nine years old when I was slain. 'Tis true, I had serv'd in fourteen companies with sufficient honour to be con∣tent with life, were it not that it is alwaies suffici∣ently difficult to resolve to die. But afterwards (ad∣ded he, not giving leisure to any to interrupt him) my adventure was strange enough; for after having shewn much bravery, the gods to punish me for be∣ing guilty of too much vanity in that respect, were pleas'd the same soul which in another body had been so stout and hardy, should animate that of one of the most pusillanimous men in the world. At first I was not very sorry for it; for I confess to you, I was a little weary with the tumultuous life which I had led, and those former impressions not being yet wholly blotted out, I imagined that choosing a kind of calm life I might spend my daies with sufficient sweetness. But, alas! I was deceiv'd, for as soon as it was perceiv'd I was one of no courage, I was expos'd to a hundred thousand troublesome occasi∣ons, and I assure you the people of the world who suffer most, are they who have the unhappiness to be cowards. For I dare maintain, it is a thousand times more pain to be void of valour, than to be too couragious; for a man who is valiant resolves upon death without fear at the beginning of the fight; whereas a poor wretch who is not, fears it in places where it is not to be met with. For my part, whilst I was a coward, I fear'd both my friends and my enemies; when I was forced to go to the war, and shame engaged me to be present in any encoun∣ter, the torment I suffer'd was above imagination. Example did not animate me, the noise of arrowes elashing together made my heart quake; I was al∣waies prepar'd for a retreat, and alwaies observ'd to be last at the battle, and the for most in the flight. I went whither I was unwilling to go, I did not go where I desir'd to be; I was possess'd with fear and shame: and amidst all this, with a sottish pride, which caused me to do things of which I repented a moment after. But that which afflicted me most, was, that though at my return from the war, I spoke as if I had been couragious, yet I knew it was under∣stood well enough that I was not. Therefore I say once again, there is nothing more painful than to want courage; and a brave person that ingages in a hundred thousand dangers, suffers much less than a man who continually fear things which are not to be fear'd. Now therefore (said Damon) can what Amil∣car saies be doubted of? for could he invent an ad∣venture of this nature, were it not truth that forces him to speak? Damon pronounc'd these words after a manner which surpriz'd all the company; indeed he was a person not absolutely without wit; but when a man is once capable to give himself up to believe a difficult & extroardinary thing, he maintains it more obstinately than if it were easie to be believ'd, and is so prepossess'd with it, that he is easily perswaded of any thing that may serve to authorize it. Thus the poor Damon, not perceiving that his Rival made sport with him, conjur'd him that he would proceed. Ceso∣nia

and Valeria did the same; Anacreon, Herminius, A∣crisius, and Sicinius, press'd him to it; so that resuming his discourse, I assure you, (said he) that Life, which they say is a thing very precious, is notwithstanding more painful then 'tis thought to be. For tho I remember every thing that I have been, yet I do not remember I was ever perfectly happy. Never∣thelesse, I was not altogether miserable after having been so fearful; for I was destin'd to become a Swan; I had also the good hap to be in one of the goodliest Lakes that ever I beheld, and to feed very frequently from the fairest hands in the world; for the place I was in, belong'd to a very beautiful person who lov'd me extremely. But at length it behov'd me to sing in order to my death; on which occasion I found, that, tho they say the singing of Swans is very agreeable, it is so troublesome to the singers, that I was ex∣treamly willing to change my shape. I repented me soon after that wish; for, the gods, to punish me for being dissatisfied with my condition, when I was one of the fairest Swans that ever was in the world, made me a bad Poet. This was a state of great mi∣sery to me; not but that I accounted all that I com∣pos'd, very good, and admir'd my self for it; but alwaies some adventure hapned, which made me know I was my own sole admirer. I bethought my self one day unhappily, to go shew some Verses I had made in a great Company, without declaring my self to be the Author, hoping thereby to be commended the more. But I repented my selfe of it extreamely; for there was no person but judg'd them bad, and made a mockery of them. But that which afflicted me yet more, was, that I defended them in such a manner, as gave those who derided them, to under∣stand that I made them; upon which, beginning to moderate what they had said, they wholly cast me into despair. Not but that I believ'd they judg'd badly of my Verses; but this did not hinder me from being possess'd with infinite indignation. I lookt upon the Age I liv'd in as ignorant, that people did not judge but according to their capricious humour or favour, that I deserv'd better than they who were commended above me; and at length I dy'd in the error I had liv'd in, that is, I alwaies be∣liev'd my Verses were good, tho I remember well at this day, they were extream bad. But for that I had alwaies devour'd my self, the decree of fate was, that I should become a Pelican, which not∣withstanding, is a Bird sufficiently rare, and of which kind, there are not many more than of that of the Phoenix: but at last dying to give life to my little Pelicans, which were very sprightly, my Soul was sent to Sparta, to animate the body of a young Lacedemonian, who was the most dexterous Thief that ever liv'd. There I rob'd so cunningly, that one day a young and fair person, confest to me, I had stolne her heart above six moneths before she per∣ceiv'd it. How? Amilcar, (cry'd Plotina, who only took an occasion to laugh) you put me in great fear, and I should be circumvented, if you should have taken my heart without my knowing any thing of it. As for that point, (answer'd Damon coldly) 'tis apparent, Amilcar is pleas'd to add an agreeable Fiction to Truth, tho he would do better to speak a little more seriously of a matter of such importance I will do what you desire, (reply'd Amilcar, with∣out being mov'd) and tell you that after this I became a jealous Husband; then, a jealous Mis∣tresse; shortly after, a jealous Lover, a jealous Wife, a jealous Friend, jealous without cause and reason; and, in brief, experienc'd jealousie in so many man∣ners, that I may say, I was for several Ages ex∣tremely miserable. But that which is remarkable, (continu'd Amilcar) is, that I never was an old man, and therefore I am desirous, out of cu∣riosity only to become so once. I believe it, (an∣swer'd Plotina smiling) but not to let slip the oc∣casion of contenting my curiosity, since you have made tryal of jealousy of all sorts that can be, tell us a little, whether a jealous Wife be tormented more than a jealous Husband? No doubt she is, (answer'd Amilcar) for the passions of Women when they love being more violent, it is easie to judge, that their jealousie is more tormenting to them than that of Men; besides, having not so much liberty to act in order to clearing their sus∣picions, nor so much power to be reveng'd, they must needs suffer far more. For my part, (said Anacreon) I would ask of you whether the jealousie of a Husband be more troublesome than that of a Lover? That of a Husband (answer'd Anacreon) is more troublesome for the Wife, than that of a Lo∣ver is for his Mistresse: but as for him that suffers, I assure you, that according to the experience I have made of it, it is more incommodious to be a jealous Husband, than to be a jealous Lover. For my part, (said Herminius) I conceive, that instead of in∣quiring of Amilcar, those different degrees of jea∣lousie, it were better he told us what jealousie is; for after having try'd it so much, methinks he should better understand it than we do. Herminius has reason, (said Damon) for by so many several e∣ffects as Amilcar has seen of jealousie, he may have discover'd it's true cause and nature. I assure you, (answer'd he) jealousie is a thing harder to be known than is believ'd; and when I consider all my several jealousies, I find my self sufficiently perplex'd, to tell you what I conceive of that passion. Yet 'tis certainly a very powerful one, and more powerful than Love; since it sometimes extinguishes it. But that which is constantly true, is, that as a stone does more or lesse mischief proportionably to the strength or weaknesse of the arme that flings it; so jealousie is greater or lesse, according to the mea∣sure of Love, from whence it arises. But yet I de∣sire to know, (said Anacreon) whether jealousie arises from the greatnesse of Love, or from the dis∣trust one has of himself, or of the person lov'd? Why one cannot love vehemently without being a little jealous? and why it is necessary that the great∣est punishment of life, should be inseparably con∣joyn'd with the greatest pleasure in the World? The reason is, (answer'd Amilcar) because Love is no∣thing but a desire, desires are scarce ever without fear, and fear in Love not without jealousie. For as of necessity Love must precede jealousie, so of neces∣sity likwise jealousie, must be preceded by fear. For, were it not fear'd a woman might prove unfaithful, no person would ever be jealous; if it were not fear'd a Rival might be lov'd, none would be pos∣sess'd with jealousie; so that it may be said, if there were no fear, there would be no jealousie; if no∣thing were fear'd, there would be no desires; and if no desires, no Love. But because people desire, therefore they love; because they love, they fear; and because they fear, they are jealous: So that to de∣termine the original of jealousie, it must be held to be the daughter of desire and fear, and because one

cannot love without desire and fear, it is almost an impossibility to love long without jealousie. Your discourse is extreamly rational, (answer'd Damon), but yet it would be better to proceed, to inform us; what you have been in latter times. Of a jealous Husband, (said Amilcar) I became a Tyger in Lybia, a Shepherd in Arcadia, a Carver at Corinth, a Pea∣cock in Sicily, a Painter at Athens, a Musician in Lydia, and an Owle at Praeneste. But for that the relation of my adventures while an Owle, would not afford you much Pleasure, I shall content my selfe, to tell you only what I was before I was Amil∣car. I beseech you tell us that presently, (said Ploti∣na). I was Servius Tullus, (answer'd he, with a strange confidence). How? (said Plotina, with a fain'd astonishment) were you a King of Rome? Yes (answer'd he) and therefore it was I told you, in the beginning of my discourse, you would no longer wonder at my boldnesse in loving you, af∣ter you knew all that I have been; and this is the reason also that I hate Tarquin so much, and have lign'd my selfe to the service of Rome. For they who have any remembrance left of their several changes, have also some inclinations, in their pre∣sent condition, correspondent to what they have been; and therefore you ought not wonder that I love Rome, altho I am an African. No, (reply'd Ploti∣na maliciously); for Rome is sufficiently lovely of her selfe, to attract your affection: but I wonder very much at your so exact remembrance of so many things, and at my own remembring nothing at all. For, as for my part, I declare to you, I do not re∣member I was ever any other than Plotina. But per∣haps (answer'd Amilcar similing) it is, because you have not consider'd on it; for certainly it is not without the strength of deep reflection, that I have been able to recount to you all I have done. Amil∣car spoke this with a certain air, beholding Plotina, which suddenly signifi'd to Damon, that this Rival had made pastime of his opinions, and fain'd these stories to divert the Companie. For my part, (said Acrisius then, who sought occasion onely to speak) I will endeavour to recite all the changes Amilcar re∣members of himselfe. Do not give your selfe the trouble, (answer'd Damon rising up) for I am assur'd that tho it be true that Amilcar remembers what he has been, when I am gone, he will say, his intenti∣on was only to make pastime, and divert you with pleasant mockerie; but whatever he sayes, it is cetain, the opinion of Pythagoras is that alone, which can be follow'd with reason. Damon spake this with something a sharp tone of his voice, which sig∣nifi'd, that he at length perceiv'd Amilcar only to deride his belief. Plotina therefore was offering to say something to to pacify him, but he went a∣way, and would not continue longer. 'Tis true, he afforded great pleasure to the Company, and e∣specially to Plotina, who had an extream desire to laugh in liberty at Amilcar's confidence, in relating all those odd changes. For my part, (said she) I can∣not understand how a man otherwise indu'd with reason, can be capable to believe things so extrava∣gant. I am not of your mind, (said Anacreon) for I never wonder'd at any thing, and lesse at these kind of things than others; because there is never any prepossession of mind so strong, as that which has some appearance of Religion and Piety. For the morality of Phythagoras, having pleas'd Damon, be∣cause it was full of humanity and sweetnesse, he af∣terwards submitted his mind, to believe all that has been taught by a Man, whose Virtue charm'd him. For as we more easily believe what our Friends tell us, than what we learn from our Enemies, or people who are indifferent to us; so it often times falls out in the reading of Books. Men take an affection to the opinions of some persons, in certain matters; and when their affection is so setled, they are after∣wards capable to believe all that he saies, upon his word, and in the mean time, thinks they are perswad∣ed to do so by their own reason. But in brief (inter∣rupted Plotina) should the best of my Friends tell me, 'Tis further from the top of the Capitol to the bank of Tyber, than from the bank of Tyber to the top of the Capitol, I should not believe him; because my reason would inform me otherwise. As often as any one goes about to tell things contrary to a truth known to all the World: (reply'd Anacreon), you will not be perswaded to believe them; but when a per∣son for whom you have a very great esteem, endea∣vours to perswade you to follow his opinion blindly, no question, it must be some thing of that kind, which no person can ever know perfectly, unlesse the gods reveal it to him, and which cannot be judg'd of but by conjectures; the testimonies are so frequent∣ly dubious, that they sometimes occasion great er∣rors in the world. Which being so, it is not to be wonder'd, if a person who by his own reason can∣not penetrate into the truth, gives credit to a man whom he otherwise infinitely esteems, and believes him to have discover'd what he is unable to do, blind∣ly embracing his sentiments upon a false conceit of being induc'd to do so by a thousand reasons. There∣fore they are to be excus'd, who are not of our senti∣ments; for the belief we have of things supernatur∣al, does not depend absolutely of our selves, If I were an Aethiopian, I should not believe that which I now do; if Amilcar were a Roman, he would have other sentiments; if Herminius were a Greek, he would have opinions which now he has not, altho the Greeks and Romans agree in several matters. Wherefore, I think, I have reason to say, 'tis injustice to accuse those of folly, who endeavour to defend the opinions of their Forefathers, and their Coun∣try; and that their unhappinesse is justly to be pity∣ed, in being educated with a prejudic'd reason, which hinders them from discerning the truth; and it is charity to pray the gods to enlighten them. Let us therefore pity the poor Damon, (answer'd Plotina) for he his really worthy of pity for believing Amilcar was a Phoenix. After this, the Subject of the con∣versation being chang'd, they discours'd of a thou∣sand delightfull matters, till Artemidorus coming thither, inform'd the Company, intelligence was brought that the Siege of Rome was resolv'd upon by Porsenna and Tarquin, and that in a few dayes they must look to see the enemie's Army about the walls. This news chang'd the discourse and oblig'd this no∣ble company to retire. Three dayes after, there was a magnificent Ceremony in Rome; for, the Chief Vestal being dead suddenly, she that was to succeed her, and to whom she had voluntarily a lit∣tle time before resign'd all authority, was put in pos∣session of it, by the Chief of that Order, in pre∣sence of the Senate, and all the people. The de∣ceased Vestal being Sister to Clelius. Clidamira and Berelisa, thought ••••t to go and comfort Sulspitia and Clelia; but Valeria withheld them, telling them, that when a Vestal dies, after having satisfi'd all the

engagements she was oblig'd to, it would be an in∣jury in her Relations, to be afflicted for her death, there being nothing so glorious, as to have pass'd her life in keeping the sacred Fire, without having ever committed the least fault. And moreover (ad∣ded Valeria) those two persons are at present suffici∣ently employ'd in conjecturing what the great Ve∣stal intended to say at her death; for finding her self not well, she gave charge to one to desire Clelius to take care of Plotina, and to tell him she was the Daughter—She would have said something more, but Death intercepted her speech: so that none can devise what to think of this adventure. In the mean time, great rejoycing was made at Rome by the People, when they vnderstood, she that was going to be chief of the Vestals, was worthy of the honour she was to possess. Since we are Strangers here (answer'd Berelisa) I shall be glad you would please to make me know that person before I see the ceremony, which is to be solemniz'd this day, for according to the sentiments I have at present, if it were permitted to become a Vestal at the age I am of, and a Stranger might be one, I should gladly embrace that retirement. But since it is not I must be contented to be one of the friends of the Chief Vestal. And indeed Berelisa, whose jealousie daily encreas'd, being weary of residing all her life with Clidamira, had a desire to obtain the friendship of the grand Vestal, to the end that she might make use of her power in Rome, in case she should stand in need of it: wherefore pressing Valeria to describe her to her, and Clidamira not opposing her curiosity, Va∣leria satisfied her in the following words.

The prudent Octavia (for so is the Chief Vestal call'd) is so worthy of the rank she is going to possesse, that since the first Original of that Order, there never was any whose birth was more illustri∣ous, and vertue more glorious. For she is of a de∣scent so noble, that none is more, whether you con∣sider her Fathers Family or that of her Mother, whose beauty was so admirable, that they who have seen, affirm the splendor of Lucretia's was in∣inferior to hers. She had also this extraordinary advantage, that time had respect to her beauty; for tho she was not young when she di'd, yet she then went beyond all other fair ones. She had likewise the glory, not onely to die with all her charms, but also to behold Death with so great Constancy, that she seem'd to triumph over it, tho she was constrain'd to yield to it; such admirable courage did she te∣stifie in that fatal encounter. But to return to the vertuous Octavia. You must know she was shut up in the Cloyster of the Vestals, when she was but seven years old, and being of a race to which beauty seems necessarily appendant, she was then the fairest Child in the World, and is yet at this day so fair, so lovely, and of so good and charming an aspect, that it is easie to conceive the truth of what I say. Octavia is tall, has much modesty in her countenance, and goodness in her looks, a thou∣sand charms in her mouth, spirit and sweetness in her eyes, and sometimes cheerfulness too, tho she has the most prudent aspect in the World, and is really one of the wisest persons upon the face of the Earth. Octavia has a clear complexion, a round visage, lit∣tle dimples in her cheeks and chin, blew eyes admi∣rably handsome, and a certain air of freedome, goodness, and modesty, which is perfectly pleasing. Yet that modesty of hers has something of greatness in it and does not detract from a certain noble as∣pect, which is peculiar to those of her Family. She has a young Sister, who has been brought up with her, and tenderly loves her, who is one of the fair∣est persons in the World; whose beauty has all that can aspire respect; for she is tall and of a handsome shape, her hair is of a light ash-colour, her com∣plexion is the fairest that ever was beheld, she blu∣shes after the most charming manner that ever any person did, she has extream lovely eyes, of a kind of blew, which renders them so sweet, that never was there more agreeable looks than hers. Yet the casts of her eyes are negligent, but so full of Love, that they inspire it to all such as are capable of it. Another wonder of the fair Cerintha is, that her whole Countenance is so graceful, her mouth so handsomly shap'd, her lips of so pure a carnati∣on, and her smiles so charming, that nothing can possibly be fanci'd of greater perfection. More∣over her neck is so comely, that 'tis hard to know to what part to give the preheminence; but with so many perfections, which might excite her to pride, Cerintha is modest; she makes no account of her beauty, she passionately loves glory, and begins to see the World with as much prudence, as if she had had the leisure to know it. It may be said her vertue surpasses her beauty, and that she will get as much esteem by her wisdome, as she will ex∣cite love by the charms she is Mistress of. But to return to Octavia, tho she has been shut up amongst the Vestal Virgins in her tenderest intancy, and be now of an age, in which it cannot be said she has had leasure to have much experience, yet she has a wit of excellent capacity, a Soul confirm'd in ver∣tue by a thousand reflections upon the condition she has chosen, which she admirably acquits her self of. For tho Octavia be naturally sufficiently de∣bonaire, yet she has been alwaies one of the most exact persons in the World to do her duty; and since the first being of Vestals, there never was any so careful and so punctual in observing all things which her profession requires. Whilst she was in the age of obedience, she obeyed with submissi∣on; when she came to command, she commanded with an authority that makes her be fear'd, and nevertheless makes her be belov'd too, even by those that fear her. She vigorously maintains the priviledges of the Vestals, and gently remits her severity in favour of her Companions upon se∣veral small inconsiderable occasions, when nothing is concern'd but her own interest. Order is ad∣mirably observ'd in that Society, the Temple is well serv'd, modesty is eminent in all her deport∣ment; there is constancy and sweetness, justice and mildness in her mind. Moreover Octavia speaks excellently well of all things, without affecting a certain capacity which reasonable persons cannot endure; and when any occasion is presented for her to speak to the other Vestals, to exhort them to their duties, she do's it with so much eloquence, that they as much admire her wit as they love her per∣son. 'Tis also very considerable, that tho Octavia is a very fit person for the World, yet she continues most strictly confin'd within the bounds of her pro∣fession, and which is yet more strange, all her sen∣timents are heroical; she considers matters very scrupulously, she speaks and writes exactly, and, which renders her infinitely lovely, understands all the dearness of true firiendship, and prudently

chooses such as she makes happy with her own. She has also the good fortune that the other Vestals are worthy to be with her, especially three, who are all extreamly amiable; but there is one amongst the rest, who has a great interest in her heart, and that deservedly: for she is a very rare person, of a graceful and lovely aspect; her birth is very no∣ble, her heart is generous and tender, she is infinitely ingenious, her humour is sweet and complacent, and with all this she has the true aspect of a sincere ho∣nest person, and a tender, and a constant friendship for the admirable Octavia, who cannot be com∣mended after all the manners she deserves, because she will not suffer her self to be commended with exaggeration. Yet it must be said further to her ho∣nour, that she loves glory passionately, that nothing affects her so sensibly, and when any thinks to com∣mend her before the other Vestals, they say half of the rare qualities she possesses, and the charms which render her so admirable are not known. Do me then the favour which I infinitely desire (reply'd Be∣relisa) to bring me into the affection of the grand Vestal; you are so accustom'd (answer'd Clidamira tauntingly) to make your self belov'd by whom you please, that, if you have the desire, you need only seek out an occasion to make your self known. You seem to speak obligingly (reply'd Berelisa) but yet I assure you, I understand you as I ought.

After this Valeria having told them it was time to go to the Temple, if they intended to see the Ce∣remony, these fair Strangers accompani'd her thi∣ther. Where being well plac'd they saw Valeria had not flatter'd the grand Vestal, and that she was fairer than she had describ'd her. She perform'd this Ce∣remony with so much Majesty and so good a grace, that she charm'd all those that heheld her. Berelisa in particular looking upon her as a person from whom she expected to be protected, was ingag'd to love her from that very moment. Clelia hav∣ing lost her Predecessor was considering to gain her affection, to the end she might make use of her authority if she should need it; for the Vestals have a great interest in Rome. Plotina also hoping to know more fully by Octavia what her deceas'd Predecessor had spoken concerning her at her death, was solici∣tous of getting a place in her affection: Thus these several persons for different reasons purpos'd to ac∣quire the friendship of the grand Vestal, who at the end of the Ceremony continued alone standing by the holy Fire, to shew an example to all the other Vestals. The next day a rumour was spread a∣broad that the enemies Army was upon their march with all speed. This news indeed was true; for the King of Hetruria, understanding the preparati∣ons that were making for the defence of Rome, thought fit to give no leisure to fortifie it more; and therefore hastened his design. And besides Tarquin himself prest him him fo assiduously when he was ar∣riv'd at Clusium, that he gave him no rest. 'Tis true Galerita and the Princess of the Leontines did all they could to protract matters in length; but being un∣willing to become suspected, they dar'd not employ all their credit to that end. So that they could not much retard the execution of that grand design; but for that they desir'd at least Aronces might be free, they perform'd their promise made to that illustri∣ous Prisoner, and perswaded Porsenna it was fit he should be brought out of prison on condition to serve in the Army intended for the siege of Rome; and told him, during that time, they would incline him to embrace the propounded marriage of the Princess of Cere, who was reported to be a great beauty. Galeri∣ta having promis'd in the name of Aronces, more than Aronces would have promis'd himself, Porsenna sent order to him who commanded in the Island of Saules to bring Aronces forthwith for Clusium. But when he receiv'd this order, the Prince was not yet return'd from that secret voyage, which he made to Rome, accompani'd with the old man who inform'd Plotina of so many things; so that this man was in a strange perplexity. At first he told him that brought it, the Prince was sick and not to be seen, and that a little time ought to be waited for his re∣covery, to carry him to Clusium. But tho he set a good face on the business he was in extream trou∣ble, Which nevertheless did not torment him long; for towards midnight Aronces according to his promise return'd into the Prison, to go forth a∣gain the next morning. For as soon as it was day, it was told him that brought the Order from Por∣senna, that the Prince having slept well that night, was something better and would obey the King of Hetruria, and that he might go and assure Porsenna of as much. He was also introduc'd to Aronces, who spoke to him very respectfully of the King his father: but at length when this messenger of the K. Porsenna was gone, Aronces prepar'd himself to depart, and pro∣mis'd that Kinsman of Plotina, that he would in that time procure his deliverance out of prison, not doub∣ting to obtain it by his interest in Galerita. But when he consider'd upon the way, that he was going to Clu∣sium, only in order to go and besiege Rome, and that it behov'd him to live with Tarquin and Sextus, he was in extream dispair. As for the Prince Titus, he was his friend, and he hop'd some consolation from his presence; but when he imagin'd the war was ready to begin, that he could not think of seeing Clelia so long as it lasted, nor reasonably hope to be happy, he suffer'd more than can be express'd; and if a sentiment of glory had not supported his vertue, he had taken some extream resolution, and could not have resolv'd to go serve Princes whom he despis'd and hated, a∣gainst people whom he lov'd and esteem'd. But when he consider'd, that Horatius would defend Rome, he felt a secret desire in his heart to be enemy to it, not∣withstanding all his reluctancy. With these thoughts Aronces arriv'd at Clusium; as soon as he was there, the Queen his Mother visited him to instruct him in the manner it was fit for him to speak to the King his Fa∣ther, whom he saw the first time in private. Aronces being the goodliest Prince in the world, Porsenna could not behold him without having his heart mollifi'd, & Aronces was so absolutely Master of it in this occasion, that Porsenna was highly pleas'd with him. Indeed Galerita had prevail'd with the King of Hetruria not to say any thing to Aronces concerning his Love; but that which was most troublesome to Aronces was, that Tarquin and Sextus being then at Clusium, he could not avoid seing them the same day. 'Tis true, it was in the presence of Porsenna, and so the matter was dispaeht a little more easily. And besides, Tarquin being a sub∣tle Prince, and one that had a great faculty of dissimu∣lation, and Sextus being of a jovial easie nature, and ca∣pable to forget all things past, in a moment; they both receiv'd Aronces as if they had always lov'd him, & as the son of a King from whom alone they could expect their reestablishment at Rome. As for Aronces, it was ea∣sie to perceive that the respect he would render to the

King his Father, oblig'd him to receive the civilities of Tarquin and Sextus; he had also the generosity to express some tokens of the difference he made be∣tween the virtuous Titus and them, for he deported himself after another manner towards him in the sight of all the Court. After this Aronces to follow the counsel of Galerita in all things, went to visit the Princess of the Leontines, whom he honor'd infinitely; for out of the design he had, not to be persecuted with the marriage of the daughter of the King of Ceres, he resolv'd to give Porsenna occasion to imagine that the Princess of the Leontines might cause him to for∣get Clelia. Not but that this kind of Artifice was dis∣pleasing to him; but having advertis'd Clelia of it, he resolv'd upon it, with the thought that at least he might often be at liberty to complain of his unhap∣piness, with a most generous Princess. When he went to wait upon her, he found a Lady there one of the most vertuous in the world, and who was ex∣treamly belov'd by her, as well as by Galerita. Her name was Melintha; for her descent being from Greece, her name came also to be of that Country. And being very powerful in this Court by the great number of Friends she had in it, the Princess of the Leontines was desirous Aronces should contract a friendship with her. And accordingly finding her at first gentle, sweet, ingenious, and compassionate, he desir'd to have some place in her affection, and intreated of her so obligingly, that she promis'd it him with joy; for she saw his unhappiness was as great as his vertue, and she was very willing to be one of his friends, especially because she had power to serve him. Upon the return of Aronces all the Court was fill'd with joy, all the young Per∣sons of quality presented themselves to him, the people made a publick rejoycing, and there was no one fair Person, who did not hope to dispossess Cle∣lia of his heart. Yet it was a very rash design, and prov'd very ill to those who attempted it; for Aron∣ces tho civil and complacent, could take no plea∣sure but in the company of the Princess of the Leon∣tines, with whom he talk'd in freedom, or with Ti∣tus, who loving Rome as well as he, pitied him with much dearness, and did not act like a Son of Tar∣quin, but as a real and faithful friend. In the mean time, as the friendship of Princes, especially when they are young, is easily misconstrued for Love, in a few daies it was reported in the Court of the King of Hetruria that Aronces was become amorous of the Princess of the Leontines, tho he did not profess Court∣ship to her; besides that, Galerita being desirous Por∣senna should believe so, to the end the Prince her Son might be more ingratiated with him, contributed very much to make the rumor credited, notwithstand∣ing Aronces's reluctancy, hoping this would hinder the King from urging his marriage with the daugh∣ter of the King of Ceres, which was only design'd to dis-engage his heart from the love of Clelia. And moreover Aronces was so frequently with the Princess of the Leontines, that it was imagin'd that the occa∣sion of it could be no other but Love. Yet he enter∣tain'd her only with discourse of his Passion for Cle∣lia, and the excellencies of that admirable Lady. But as the Courts of Princes are never so splendid nor populous, as when a war is to begin, that of the King of Hetruria was at this time magnificent, and extreamly numerous. Tarquin, Sextus and the Prince his brother was there; an old Lover of the Princess of the Leontines was there also, not so much to serve Porsenna as to importune that generous La∣dy. The Prince of Messene arriv'd there, who was sufficiently surpriz'd when he understood the sister of Artemidorus was there; for it was reported that when she was in Sicily she was amongst the veil'd Virgins. Nevertheless, the case being otherwise, he render'd all the civility he ought her, tho he was Ri∣val to the Prince her brother. Besides all these Prin∣ces, all the people of quality of Tarquin and Veii came to Clusium; Telanus amongst others repair'd thither, and acquitted himself punctually of what he had promis'd Clelia and Octavius: for he offer'd himself to Aronces as one wholly at his devotion in all occasi∣ons whatsoever. Artemidorus and Zenocrates being at Rome, the Princess of the Leontines was very desirous these combustions might be pacifi'd. She wisht her self able to contribute to this great design, tho she saw no great likelihood in it; but she conceiv'd, if the War could be deferr'd for one year, she might possibly be then in a condition to hinder it; Tarquin was old, and several accidents might fall out to change the face of affairs: She imparted her thoughts to Galerita, who finding she had reason in her opini∣on, endeavour'd to bring it to pass, that some secret Negotiation might be undertaken. Yet she did not acquaint Aronces with her design, imagining that a∣ny thing, which might draw matters out in length would not seem advantageous to him, because Love causes prejudice in the minds of those that are pos∣sost with it. And accordingly these two Princesses acted with so much address, that Porsenna consented to the attempting to find out some expedient for the accommoding of affairs, to the end the War he in∣tended to make upon Rome, might appear more just, if an equitable proposition were refus'd. Tarquin was extremly backward to consent to this delay, but Porsenna having promis'd him, that this Treaty should last but fifteen daies, he resolv'd upon it, on condition the business might be carried privately, that so in case it should not succeed it might not be reproacht to him, to have ask'd a peace of Rome. Ga∣lerita improving this occasion, propounded to request the Princess of the Leontines, who was of a condition fit to intermeddle in such affairs, and had as great a capacity as was necessary for the like transactions, that she would go to Rome, accompani'd with two men of quality. This proposition pleas'd Porsenna, because believing his Son enamour'd on this Prin∣cess, he thought she would preserve her conquest, and out of the desire of coming to be Queen of Hetruria, do nothing that might be advantageous to Clelia. The difficulty was, to propound something which might have some probability of succeeding; but se∣veral dextrous persons undertaking this affair, it was resolv'd it should be demanded the form of Go∣vernment should continue Monarchical, that the Ti∣tle of King should remain to Tarquin, and, that to satisfie the Romans, he should continue a year lon∣ger out of Rome, and so should Sextus too, provided the Prince Titus, who was not hated, should be ad∣mitted to dwell there. Tarquin did not oppose this proposition; not that it pleas'd him, but because he conceiv'd Rome would never accept it. When Aron∣ces understood the business, he was extreamly afflict∣ed at it, but considering it well, he thought it would be advantageous to him, for the Princess of the Le∣ontines to see Clelia. This design was soon put in execution. To which purpose Telanus was chosen to go to Rome, to demand safe conduct for the

Princess of the Leontines. In the mean time A∣ronces mov'd Galerita to procure the deliverance of Plotina's Kinsman, who was prisoner in the Island of Saules; she promis'd to do it, and desir'd some time to oblige Porsenna to set him at liberty. Aron∣ces writ to Clelia by Telanus, and Telanus acquitting himself readily of his Commission, brought back all the assurances that were desir'd for the Prin∣cess of the Leontines, who knowing the credit Arte∣midorus and Zenocrates had at Rome, would not have fear'd to have gone thither without any other assu∣rance than that she might have expected from their interest. But at length having receiv'd instructions from Porsenna, and the most passionate expres∣sions imaginable to Clelia from Aronces, who like∣wise gave Telanus a second Letter for that fair Lady, the Princess put her self upon the way to Rome. In the mean while, Publicola was not sorry for this de∣lay, because it afforded him time to fortifie the Ci∣ty, and provide for its safety. The Princess of the Leontines had in her company, besides Telanus, two men of good years. And whil'st this Negotia∣ation was secretly treating at Rome, the Princess was receiv'd there onely as a Stranger come thither only out of curiosity. But Publicola and several others knowing what relation she had to Artemidorus, that her heart sided with Rome, and she was troubled at Porsenna's protecting of Tarquin, treated her in pri∣vate with all imaginable honours. As for Clelia, she was very joyful for her arrival, out of a thought to get some place in her friendship, and to engage her to be more favourable to her interests. Plotina was also very glad to understand by Telanus, that he who was to inform her what she was, was to be set at li∣berty. Horatius being ignorant of the great intima∣cy she had with Aronces, render'd her all the honour which was due to her quality; but as for Themi∣sius, Meleagenes, Herminius, Amilcar, Octavius, Me∣rigenes, Anacreon, Aemilius, and several others, they waited upon her every day. Clidamira and Berelisa likewise visited her constantly; and, the former de∣siring to obtain her favour, propos'd several things to her, relating to the conclusion of the peace, and her return to Leontium. Valeria, and Plotina were very diligent in waiting upon her. Sulpicia, Sivel∣ia, and the Aunt of Brutus, who were the principal Ladies of Rome, went frequently to see her, and Clelia took occasion to do the like as often as she could. Artemidorus was very serviceable in rendring this society more free, for he told his sister so many things in commendation of Clelia, that nothing could be added more; and assur'd Clelia so fully of the good intentions of that Princess, that when they saw one another they were presently perswaded of their mutual friendship. The Princess of the Leontines found Clelia so fair, so lovely, and so charming, that she could not but commend Aronces for his con∣stancy; and Clelia lookt upon the Princess of the Leontines as a person so Amiable, and capable to in∣duce to infidelity, that she fear'd it might be dan∣gerous for her interests, that Aronces should see her too often; and this thought made so strong an impression in her heart, that she could not contain from testifying something of it to her one day, as they were discoursing together with very much dear∣ness. I confess to (you said the Princess of the Leon∣tines then to her) I am so great a Lover of constan∣cy, that I have hitherto serv'd Aronces to the utmost of my power, onely because I saw he was faithful to you. But after having seen you, I shall serve him with greater ardour, because, having much friendship for him, I should be glad to assist him in the preservation of a good which is of infinite va∣lue. For, is there any thing so precious (added she) as the affection of a person endu'd with beauty, wit, vertue, goodness, and fidelity? I beseech you, Ma∣dam, (answer'd Clelia) do not extol me so much, and suffer me to take my turn of commending you, and to tell you, I find you have so many charms, that I fear much, lest Aronces become unfaithful. For lincerely I confess to you I know not how he can re∣sist you, and I find you so far above me, that I can∣not but look upon you with as much fear as pleasure. Your discourse has too much of Complement (re∣pli'd the Princess of the Leontines) and is so ill grounded) that it would be a piece of vanity to an∣swer it seriously. And moreover, (added she, smi∣ling) you know your self better than you speak; but tho it were not so, and your modesty conceal'd from you part of your charms, yet you are well e∣nough acquainted with the heart of Aronces, not to apprehend it impossible for him to be inconstant, A∣lass! Madam, (answer'd Clelia) I do not conceive there can ever be any assurance of not being liable to lose a thing, the possession of which is sweet. I agree with you in that, (repli'd the Princess) that it may be fear'd; but I dare say you cannot without in∣justice apprehend it possible for Aronces to cease to love you. Give me therefore your friendship without scruple, I conjure you, and believe, that Prince has the most tender and faithful affection for you, that ever any person had, and that I am dispos'd to love you with the most sincere and constant friendship that ever was. If it be so, Madam, (an∣swer'd Clelia) I am perfectly glorious; for I look upon you as a person so lovely, that it will be an in∣finite contentment to me, to think I am belov'd by one that cannot be seen without being lov'd. This conversation would have continu'd longer, if word had not been brought to the Princess of the Leon∣tines, that Publicola desir'd to speak with her. Clelia judging it was a visit concerning affairs rather than of civility, offer'd to depart; but the Princess intreat∣ed her to go into a great Closet, which was in her Chamber, with a Lady of quality that came with her, whose name was Amiclea, and who was a person of very much wit. A moment after, Vale∣ria, Plotina, Herminius, and Telanus, came thither; so that there was a conversation not meanly delight∣ful amongst these six persons. But that 'tis a ci∣vil custome to discourse with Strangers about such things as they know best, not onely for that reason, but also to understand something unheard of before, all these Ladies address'd their discourse to Amiclea, either concerning the Princess of the Leontines, or the Court of the King of Hetruria. Valeria, also so well understood that she did a plea∣sure to Clelia, by making a curious inquiry of all that past at Clusium, that she ask't a hundred things of the amiable Amiclea, which otherwise she would not have spoken of. I beseech you (said she to her, after several things, which directly concern'd the Princess of the Leontines) tell us, what Ladies A∣ronces has most frequently visited since his coming out of prison, and whether it be true, that there are abundance of amiable women at Clusium. There are so many beauties there, (answer'd Amiclea) that handsomeness is there scarce accounted of. Yet

that is not much the custome (repli'd Plotina); for amongst young persons Vertue is far less extol'd than Beauty. 'Tis true, (answer'd Amiclea) but it must be spoken, in the praise of our Court, that a Wo∣man who is no more than barely fair, draws some gazers, but does not acquire much esteem. Beauty, no doubt, is lookt upon there; but, above all, agree∣ableness, wit, excellent deportment, and a kind of secret charm, not consistent with stupidity, are prin∣cipally sought after. But I beseech you, (said Vale∣ria) answer what I desired of you, and tell me who those persons are Aronces visits most. I assure you, (answer'd Amiclea) tho that Prince be very civil, and enforces himself to be so, as much as he can; yet it is well enough seen, that his heart is at Rome, that he takes not much notice of what he sees. Ne∣vertheless, there are two persons which he visits ve∣ry frequently, and who are his principal Friends. The Princess of the Leontines is certainly one, (said Clelia). 'Tis true, (anwser'd Amiclea); and the second, is a Lady of quality, who has a very great interest in his esteem, and is so highly consider'd at Court, that there is none more admir'd. Cle∣lia being then very desirous to know a little more exactly who this friend of Aronces was, made a sign to Valeria, who understanding what she meant, requested Amiclea, that she would please to tell her what excellent qualities the Lady had, of whom she spake. You ask more things at once than you imagine, (answer'd Telanus) for Melintha is a Lady of so great worth, that there are few her equals. I beseech you then, (said Plotina smiling) make me acquainted with her forthwith, in the best manner you can. That is, in a word, (added Va∣leria) all the Company are desirous you would please to make a faithful description of that Friend of Aronces, that we may know, whether or no we ought to fear he loves her more than us. I assure you (answer'd Telanus) if the lovely Amiclea draw her pourtrait exactly, you will find she cannot be lov'd too much, and all the Company will be per∣swaded she ought to be Aronces's Friend. For my part, (said Herminius) methinks I love her already, I fancy her so rarely accomplisht. Speak then I conjure you, (said Clelia) and omit nothing, which may serve to make us perfectly know this Friend of Aronces. Since you desire it, (answer'd Amiclea) I shall tell you that Melintha is a Lady of so rare a Vertue, that she deserves to be propos'd for an exam∣ple to all others; there is something in her heart so noble, so great, so good, so tender, and so heroical, that it may be said the gods have atcheiv'd their master-piece, in making her. For there is nothing more difficult to find, than a Woman who possesses all the riches together, which go to the making up of a Man of honour, and which accomplish an ex∣cellent Woman, The same temper which gives a great heart and high generosity, is not alwaies well accommodated for modesty: that which causes to love exact Justice, does not very often consist with that sweet and sociable complacence, which is so necessary for Ladies who converse in the World. That which gives constancy in important affairs, does not give mildness in less matters, that which makes capable of great actions, does not stoop to certain trifles which are nevertheless a piece of de∣cency almost necesary to women in some occasi∣ons. Now Melintha having really in her breast all the vertues of an honourable Man, and all those of an excellent Woman, deserves all the commen∣dations that can be given severally to both sexes, As for her person, tho she be infinitely amiable, of a handsome stature, and slender, has hair very bright, eyes full of spirit and sweetness, a spright∣ly, modest, and agreeable countenance, a certain languor full of charms, a peculiar kind of sweet∣ness and tenderness in the tone of her voice, which affects the hearts of those to whom she speaks, and sings after the most passionate manner in the World; yet I may say, all this ought not to be mention'd, and that Melintha's vertue, wit, deportment, gene∣rosity, and prudence, ought to be oppos'd to all the other commendations she deserves. 'Tis not with∣out cause that I am impatient to speak of that sweet, insinuating, agreeable, and solid wit, which renders her capable of pleasing all sorts of persons, and which by its extent, capacity, and address, de∣serves to be interested in affairs of highest impor∣tance, which she is able to dispatch with prudence e∣qual to the secresie and probity of which she makes profession. Never was there a person more faith∣ful, more sincere, or more generous than she. And that which is admirable in this illustrious Woman, is, that, together with that sweet and complacent air she has, and a delicate constitution, she notwith∣standing has all imaginable greatness of heart, and is continually as active, as if the strength of her body equall'd that of her mind, especially when she finds occasion to do a civilty to any of her Friends, or only to some unfortunate person, of whose merit she is inform'd. She neglects even her own affairs for those of others; she is incapable of ever failing of her word; she expresses humanity towards all miserable persons, her heart is the tenderest in the World, she loves all that she ought to do, and knows how to love, both with choice and constancy. She affects ingenious things, and understands them; as Musick, Poetry, Peinture, and the like; and tho she is of a temper something inclin'd to Me∣lancholy, yet she inspires a pleasing joy into those who converse with her, and tho she seems not to intend it, suddenly wins the hearts of such as have the happiness to approach her. But not to suffer the tenderness her heart is capable of to be idle, and to afford her innocent objects worthy of it, the gods have given her an illustrious Husband, illu∣strious Brothers, illustrious Friends, and lovely Children. But, to her unhappiness, the valiant Belisantus was slain in the Wars, when fortune was ready to reward him for an infinite number of glori∣ous actions, which gain'd him an immortal renown, and render'd him worthy of the love of the vertu∣ous Melintha. In that illustrious Husband she found all that could be desir'd in a Man of ho∣nour: He was of a very Noble race as well as she; he had wit and courage; he was good and gene∣rous; he loved glory more than all things, and Melintha as much as glory. This generous Lady, hapned to be shut up in a besieged City, which her illustrious Husband defended with excellent valour and resolution, he endeavour'd to oblige her to go away out of it with her children; but she would never desert him, and, as long as the Siege lasted, afforded very great succour unto him. For during the few hours he took to rest in, she made it her care, that the orders of her dear Belisantus might be ex∣actly observ'd, and gave some her self, with as much judgement as a great Captain could have done

Being very well ascertain'd of her illustrious Hus∣band's conduct, she never offer'd to oppose his cou∣rage. So that after Belisantus had defended the place beyond all appearance of possibility, he could not resolve to capitulate, but prefer'd a glorious Death above a Treaty, which notwithstanding could not have been otherwise than very honourable. Ne∣vertheless, a sentiment of dearness for Melintha, o∣bliging him to desire her consent, he propounded to her not to yield at all; and since the City was to be abandoned to the enemies, to make a Sally forth with all the people he had left, and attempt by his valour to make his way with sword in hand, and beat the Enemies at the same time he yielded up the place. The wise Melintha well understood all the danger of this resolution, but perceiving the aversi∣on of Bellisantus to surrender, she couragiously con∣sented to what he desir'd, and accordingly he dis∣pos'd all things for that design. The Chariots of Melintha and her Children were made ready, and to shew the tranquillity of his mind in the sight of greatest dangers, he took care to cause several things to be put into them, which serv'd only for his plea∣sure. After which, being oblig'd to call a Council of War, the Officers so urgently represented to him the reasons which should oblige him to render him∣self without scruple, that at length he made a very glorious Capitulation: and thus the generous Be∣lisantus marcht out of the place, the gaining of which was less glorious to them that took it, than to him that deliver'd it up, after he had destroy'd a great Army before it, and defended it two months, tho it was thought unable to hold out two dayes, and had no other strength but the courage of him that defended it. But to let you further see, that the heart of Melintha was as tender as resolute, a∣mongst so many generous actions as she did, during that Siege, I must at last relate one to you. Her chil∣dren being in a House which was not far distant from the Walls of the City, it happened one day that the Enemies suddenly bethought themselves to place Engines upon a Tower, which they had e∣rected on that side. So that a great storm of stones was seen to be discharg'd in that place. which by the violence wherewith they were cast, overthrew all they fell upon, and slew such as were struck by them; Melintha was at that time at the house of one of her friends, on the other side of a large place, where that house stood, and seeing the fatal storm and horrible havock made by the Engines, both upon the house in which her Children were, and in the place which it behov'd her to cross to go to it, did not deliberate a moment, but being impell'd by the true tenderness of a generous mother, ran couragiously through the hail of Stones to fetch her children out of so dangerous a place, and that with so much ardour and haste, that she scarce made any reflection upon so great a danger, till she had escap'd it; having at that instant nothing else in her mind but to save the life of her Children, and preserve them for her dear Belisantus, whose love she will be eternally sensible of. Which indeed she has in some manner repair'd, by choosing for a very lovely Daughter of hers an illustrious Husband, whose rare valour and activity resembles that of the greatest Heroes, and who by an hundred gallant actions has made it apparent how great a Lover he is of Glory. Besides, Melintha having two Sons very goodly per∣sonages, and whose inclinations have appear'd ex∣treamly noble from their infancy, it is to be hop'd they will prove worthy to be Sons of their illustri∣ous Father. Melintha moreover has four Brothers, each of which in their way deserve, a thousand prai∣ses; she has also Friends, whose vertue is so great, that tho Fortune has been very liberal to them, yet they injoy much less than they deserve; and per∣haps some other occasion will be offer'd, wherein I may present you with a fuller description of all the persons I have mention'd. I beseech you (said Plo∣tina agreeably) since you have the colours and pen∣cils in your hand be pleas'd to draw the pourtraits at least of Melintha's virtuous Brothers. For my part (said Clelia) I desire onely to know one of her Friends. You ask too much for one day, (an∣swer'd Amiclea); for Melintha has a Friend whom I cannot tell you of without recounting the Histo∣ry of all Hetruria, because the rare vertues of him I speak of are, at this day, one of the strongest props of his Country. therefore I will expect some other occasion, to let you know that incomparable Man, whose vertue is above envy, and whose mo∣deration makes his vertue more eminent; and I will only tell you that Melintha is a Lady, who serves her Friends without interest, without vanity, and with all imaginable zeal. She conceals her self sometimes to do good offices; and I know a person whom she oblig'd after the noblest manner in the World, who durst not speak of the obligation he has to her, for fear of displeasing her, tho he is ex∣treamly desirous to testifie his acknowledgement of her generosity, by publishing it. In brief, Melintha is one of those Women, who are so rarely found, that no Age or Country reckons above two or three whose accomplishments equal hers. After this that you have spoken (said Herminius) I am her friend for all my life. For my part (said Valeria) I shall not repine if Aronces has more friendship for her than for me. And I (said Plotina) should ac∣count my self extream happy, if I could have an in∣terest in her Love. You have reason (said Clelia) since nothing is more desirable, than to have a friend of such worth; for 'tis not only an advantage to be lov'd by such, but the friendship of a person of great vertue reflects to the honour of those who possess it; you are a friend to almost all her friends, and after a manner enjoy her glory as your own, tho you merit not so much as she, and be far in∣feriour to Melintha. Clelia would have proceeded further, if the Princess of the Leontines had not re∣turn'd to her; but for that, as she enter'd into the Closet, she heard the name of Melintha, she could not refrain from demanding what the discourse was concerning the most vertuous Woman in the World. And understanding Amiclea had newly finisht her Character, she confirm'd all that was said of her with a thousand praises. This Princess being a very graceful Speaker, afforded much pleasure to the Company; but she discontented them at length, when she told them her stay would be shor∣ter at Rome than she imagin'd, and that matters were not in a posture to hope for an accommode∣ment. After which she continu'd there only four dayes; during which, Zenocrates durst not visit her constantly, because Clidamira might have been thereby induc'd to do some injury to that Princess. Which occasion'd this inconstant Professor, who seem'd then very sad and pensive, to be suspected of concealing a great Passion under his inconstancy.

During the four dayes the Princess of the Leontines stay'd at Rome, she us'd all endeavours she could to bring matters to an accommodation, but withal was solicitous to do some office for Aronces with Cle∣lia and Sulspicia; which she perform'd after so hand∣some a manner, that it could not have render'd her suspected to Porsenna, had he known what she spoke concerning the Prince his Son. But at length the fruit of this negotiation being only apparent in the admiration of the rare accomplishments of the Prin∣cess of the Leontines, she return'd without being a∣ble to obtain any thing on the behalf of Tarquin, but she went away with the esteem of all such as had seen her. At her departure from Rome, Clelia told her all that a person indu'd with Wit, Love and Modesty could say, to oblige her to perswade Aron∣ces continually, that he ought to be faithful to her: and the Princess of the Leontines on her part, ex∣press'd to her all that a faithful friend of Aronces ought to have said, to exhort her to constancy; af∣ter which they took leave: Clelia deliver'd a Let∣ter to Telanus, who brought her one; Artemidorus had a secret conversation with the Princess his Si∣ster, concerning their interests, which were not known to any but to Clidamira, Berelisa, and Ze∣nocrates. Telanus bid Plotina farewel with much dearness, and they parted so well, as to excite some jealousie in the breast of Amilcar. After the de∣parture of the Princess of the Leontines, prepara∣tions for War were expedited in good earnest; for it was judg'd, that as soon as she should be return'd, Porsenna would cause his Army to advance towards Rome. And indeed she was no sooner at Clusium, and had given an account of her Journey, but Tar∣quin fell earnestly to solicite Porsenna, and gave him no rest, who looking upon it as a great piece of glory to re-establish a dispossest King, omitted nothing, that might conduce to the good success of the War. Now did Aronces see himself brought into a condition, which of all things in the World he most fear'd, namely to be with his sword in hand against so many persons who were dear to him: but he had however the consolation to under∣stand a thousand things that pleas'd him from the mouth of the Princess of the Leontines. For she extolled Clelia with such exaggeration, and as∣sur'd him so confidently of his being lov'd by her, that he lov'd more than ever: At least, Ma∣dam, (said he to her) I have not mode an ill choice of the person to whom I have given my self, since you judge her worthy of your esteem; but do not you believe (added he) that if the King saw her, he would excuse my passion, and that I cannot be blam'd, but by those who have forgotten that themselves lov'd heretofore, or such as are so in∣sensible, as never to be capable of loving any thing? Then he spoke to her as concerning Horatius, and askt her, if she had seen him with Clelia; and tho he were not himself jealous, yet he could not but give several tokens of being so. But in brief, how amorous soever he were, it behov'd him to act like an enemy to Rome: Glory no doubt upheld his rea∣son in this occasion; but the interest of his Love was added to it, to perswade him at length, that since it behov'd him to appear an enemy of Rome, it ought to be after a manner which might render him redoubtable, and make him worthy the consi∣deration of either party. So he went to a Council of War, which was call'd before the marching of the Army, wherein it was resolv'd to make only a shew, as if they intended to beleaguer Rome, to see if it were possible to surprise it, and if they who affect∣ed Monarchy, were in a capacity to make an insur∣rection; but in case this did not succeed, as in proba∣bility it would not, it was determin'd to besiege that great City effectively, to seize of all the avenues, to make sure of Tyber both above and below Rome, and to bring to pass, that the great number of inhabitants that fill'd it, might serve to destroy instead of defen∣ding it, by causing a greater facility of taking it by famine. The business being thus resolv'd on, care was taken for a speedy march; but for that Porsenna judg'd there was no great likelihood of taking Rome by violence, and that for that reason the siege would probably be long, he was pleas'd the Queen his wife and the whole Court should follow him, and go to a very stately Castle, not far distant from the place where his Camp was to be, but a few miles distant from the Tomb of the three Rivals, where the un∣fortunate Caliantus was slain, and which part of Porsenna's Army had already seiz'd on. To which purpose Galerita, the Princess of the Leontines, the vertuous Melintha, and several Ladies of eminent quality of Clusium, prepar'd to follow the Army, which was gone before. Then it was that an equal desire was seen in either party of gaining Victory. One contriving to assault Rome, and the other to de∣fend it; sacrifices were offered to implore contrary successes; either of them believ'd they had justice on their side, and right to demand the Protection of the gods; but in the midst of so many opposite vowes, Clelia and Aronces no doubt wisht alwaies the same thing. Porsenna approaching near Rome, divided his Army into three bodies, out of a design to assault the City in three several places. The quarter on the side of Janicul. was that where Porsenna and Aronces were on; the second which was opposite to Tiber, was the entrenchment of Tarquin; and that on the side to∣wards Tarquinia was taken up by Sextus. At the first appearing of the forces, there were several little skir∣mishes between those whom Publicola sent to descry the enemies, and those who went to take up the places wherein to encamp. But there passed nothing very considerable in them; for Publicola having a design to suffer the enemies Army to weaken them∣selves before he attempted any thing, contented himself with knowing the true manner of their en∣trenchment, and keeping himself upon his guard. On the other side, Porsenna desiring to put the Ro∣mans out of fear, that so he might upon occasion more easily surprize them, made shew, as if his on∣ly intent was to starve the City. He set a guard upon that River, both above and below Rome, he seiz'd upon all the avenues, he caus'd Forts to be rais'd at several distances, to make good the passes more easily; for Rome was not a City fitting to be compass'd about with a Trench, as Tarquin had done at Ardea. In the mean time Aronces, to whom the care of causing those little Forts to be rais'd, was committed by Porsenna, suffer'd extream grief in be∣holding Rome as an enemy, and wisht that at least his Rival would come forth to interrupt the works he was causing to be made: that he might have occasion to see him with his sword in his hand. But for that the Romans had laid a contrary design, his desire could not then be satisfied. After Porsenna's Army was encamp'd without any considerable occurrences in making their approaches towards Rome, Ga∣lerita

the Princess of the Leontines, Melintha, and several other honorable Ladies, arriv'd at the Castle which was prepar'd for them; whither, be∣ing at no great distance from the camp, Porsenna, attended with many persons of quality, went to to receive them. The Queen of Hetruria had lately receiv'd two young Ladies for her attendants, of infinite beauty, who, whilst Porsenna was entertain∣ing Galerita, and the Princesse of the Leontines, under a great porch which belong'd to the Castle, pass'd over a little narrow bridge, which went from the Castle into the garden, and lay crosse the large di∣tches full of water. All the other Ladies continu'd in the porch, with several Officers that attended on the King, except two men, very handsome per∣sonages, who leaning over the portal where that bridge was, beheld those two fair Virgins, and spoke something to them. But that little bridge breaking on a sudden, the two fair persons fell into the water, and were indanger'd to be drown'd. As they fell, they parted several wayes, one towards the right hand, and the other towards the left; so that there was a considerable distance between them. They were no sooner fallen, but those two men who spoke to them, cast themselves into the water; but instead of separating themselves to succour them both, they leapt in on the same side, and thought only of saving one whom they held up by the robe, and so swim∣ming drew her to land; for the ditches were very deep. The other lookt for nothing but to be drowned, and had been so indeed, if the great noise had not ex∣cited the curiosity of several people to come and see what caus'd it. Upon which, divers persons perceiv∣ing this fair one ready to perish, the Captain of Por∣senna's guards leapt in with all speed, and saved her life. This accident troubled the whole Court, for these two virgins were generally very well esteem'd of. There also hapned a dispute upon it, between two famous Soothsayers, who were then with the Queen of Hetruria; for one of them affirm'd, the broken bridge was a bad omen; and the other on the contra∣ry maintain'd, that the bridges being broken upon the arrival of the King, was a very happy presage, and that for his part, he was perswaded if Rome were attaqued by force, the enterprise would succeed. But whilst these two Soothsayers were in this contest, the the two fair virgins were carried half dead into the same chamber, where care was taken for their reco∣very. The same evening the King return'd to the camp; but the next morning Aronces went to see the Queen his Mother, and the Princess of the Leontines. In the mean time the accident befallen the two fair virgins, was all the discourse of the Princesses and the Camp; every one wonder'd at the ill fortune of her who was ready to perish, and the happinesse of the other, who had two men to succour her, while her companion had none at all, though she were as fair and lovely as she. Tho Aronces had no purpose to stay long at the Castle, yet he could not refuse to accom∣pany the Princesse of the Leontines to the chamber of those two fair virgins, who were still indispos'd by their adventure of the preceding day. As they were going thither, they found the two men in a gallery, who had succour'd the same person, and left the o∣ther in danger of perishing. Whereupon the Princess of the Leontines not being able to refrain from testify∣ing to them her astonishment, I beseech you (said she to them) tell me why you did not separate your selves to succour both those fair virgins, since they did not both fall on the same side. Was it because you both love her whom you succour'd, or hated her whom you left to perish? Or rather was it because you were lov'd by the one and hated by the other? Your que∣stion Madam (answer'd he whose name was Aemyli∣us) is more difficult to be resolv'd than you ima∣gine. For my part (answer'd the other who was call'd Theanor) I should be more troubled to resolve it, than my companion; but which is the worst of all (added he) I dare not enter into the chamber of her whose life I endeavour'd to save, because she whom I abandon'd is there too. And I also (said Aemylius) should willingly go and desire pardon of her whom I left to perish, but for that I fear to find her whom I have serv'd alwaies unjust, I cannot re∣solve to do it. That which you say seems so intri∣cate (reply'd Aronces) that I am perswaded nothing but love can be the occasion of this perplexity. You have reason, my Lord (answer'd Theanor) and were we free both from hatred and love, we should be more happy than we are, and speak more intel∣ligibly. But because we are possessd with both these passions, we desire to be excus'd from making our selves further understood. The Princess of the Leon∣tines perceiving these two Lovers had no intention to tell her more of the matter, left them, and went into the chamber of the two fair sick persons, hop∣ing to draw a little more light from them, of what she desir'd to know. One of them was in bed, and the other stood by, undrest; for she who had been longest without succour, was more indispos'd than her companion. There was at that time in their chamber, onely Porsenna's Captain of the guard, who had followed Aronces, and sav'd the life of the fair Terentia, who was in bed, and seem'd to be more sad than sick. She who stood by, and whose name was Aurelisa, to testifie the greater respect, went to meet the Princesse of the Leontines, and Aronces; but tho she had reason to be cheerful enough for having escap'd so great a danger, yet there ap∣pear'd some discontent in her eyes. Upon which the Princesse observing Terentia's sadnesse, and Aurelisa's discontent, demanded of them the cause; For (said she obligingly) my intention in coming was to re∣joice with you; and, yet to judge of your thoughts by your looks, it seems the Prince and I ought to be afflicted, if we intend to partake of your senti∣ments. For my part (answer'd Terentia faintly) I do not look upon life as so great a Good, as to deserve much joy for not having lost it: however, I am very much oblig'd to Cereontus, whom you see there, for having preserv'd me, since his intention was to do me a very good office, to which he was not so much oblig'd as the other, who left me to perish. As for what concerns me (answer'd Aurelisa) it seemes I have been more happy than Terentia; but in reality, I am not of that opinion; for it is sometimes more unacceptable to be too much oblig'd, than too little. I assure you (reply'd the Princesse then, looking up∣on Aronces) I do not much better understand what Terentia and Aurelisa say, than what Aemilius and Theanor said to us, as we came hither. How? (said Terentia blushing) are Theanor and Aemilius here? Yes (answer'd Aronces) they are here, but tho they were desirous to follow me, yet they dar'd not enter into your chamber. No doubt, (added the Princesse of the Leontines) because they dare not see you, after having left you in danger of perishing. In truth (reply'd Aurelisa, changing colour as well as Terentia) I con∣ceive

they knew not what they did when they leapt into the water to save my life, and I am not certain but that they might take me for Terentia. As for me (said Cereontus then respectfully, as he was going away) my intention cannot be doubtful, and I very well understood I desir'd to succour you; but, least you should believe I look for praises for it, I shall retire. The more you speak, the lesse I understand, (answer'd the Princesse of the Leontines) yet it would by very fitting (said Amiclea who accompanied the Princesse) that you knew the truth of this adven∣ture, for fear some inconvenience happen upon it. You so well understand all the secrets of Aurelisa's, and my heart (answer'd Terentia), that it will be easie for you to satisfie the Princess; but, to speak truth, it were better to conceal our weakness than publish it: upon equitable consideration, I think there is no person amongst us but has their fault. Terentia spoke this with an air that augmented the Princess's curiosity, who understanding in effect, that there might be some occasion of quarrel between Theanor, Aemilius, and Cereontus told these two fair persons, she would not go forth of their chamber, till she knew exactly, all that was to be known of their adventures. I beseech you, Madam, (said Aurelisa then) do not give your self the trouble of hearing a hundred unprofitable trifles, which are glorious to no persons, and will but make you lose time which you might better employ. No, no, (said Amiclea then) the Princess can do nothing more de∣lightful to her self, than to hinder such worthy per∣sons as those that sav'd your lives, from quarrel∣ling, as I foresee they will do, if care be not taken to observe them, and suppress part of their resent∣ment. Terentia and Aurelisa understanding in effect, that a quarrel might easily arise between those three men, consented to the desire of the Princess and A∣ronces, who having two hours still to spend in that place, was not unwilling to employ them in hinder∣ing amorous persons from destroying one another; for he had heard it confusedly spoken, that Aemilius and Theanor lov'd Terentia and Aurelisa. Wherefore urging these two fair Ladies to consent that he should know their history, they did so, on condition that only the Princess of the Leontines and himself should know it, and that they two might not be pre∣sent at the relation, which they could not hear without extreme confusion. But who then shall tell us your adventures (said the Princess)? Amiclea answered Terentia, who knowes them as well as our selves, and who is so sincere, and so faithful, that I do not conceive she is suspected by Aurelisa, more than she is by me. You have reason (answer'd that fair Ladie) and I should more doubt my own memory, if I were to relate my adventure my self, than I do the sincerity of Amiclea. I am very glad you both know me (reply'd she); but withal, you ought to be assur'd that I will do nothing to render my self unworthy of the good opinion you have of me, and onely relate the pure and naked truth. After this, the Princesse of the Leontines went to her own Chamber, whil'st the Queen of Hetruria was in hers with the generous Melintha. As soon as the Princesse was there, she commanded, No person should be suffer'd to enter, and then oblig'd Amiclea to relate all that had befallen her two amiable friends; in obedience to which command she began her story in these terms:

The HISTORY of AVRELISA and TERENTIA.

I will not detain you, Madam, with telling you Aurelisa and Terentia are descended from very noble families, since you know it already; or that Theanor, Aemylius and Cereontus are persons of quality; for 'tis a thing you are not ignorant of. I shall omit to tell you that these five persons are indued with great merits, because you know them sufficiently to be so; neverthelesse, for that the Prince that hears me has not time to observe the humour of Aurelisa and Terentia, you must permit me to tell him that tho Terentia be brown and Aurelisa fair, one has black eyes, and the other blew, one be tall of stature and the other low, yet there is more difference in inclinations than in the out-side of their persons. Yet they have both very much wit; yea, they had for some time a considerable kindness for one another; but this has not hinder'd but that they have opposite sentiments, and in brief, can never a∣gree in any thing whatsoever, not even in such matters as are of least concernment. If they be onely to walk together, one of them will go in the shade, and the other sayes she do's not fear the Sun, and much affects those great open quarters in Gar∣dens which leave the sight free, and where the air is not confin'd. If one will have her Curtains drawn before her windows, the other maintains on the contrary that the clear day is advantageous to such as have a good complexion. In brief, they never had the same friends of either Sex in the very time they lov'd one another, and I may say I am the only exception to this general rule; 'Tis true, since 'tis a happiness I have to be oftentimes a friend to per∣sons who have no resemblance, and whose interests are many times contrary, this ought not to be won∣der'd at. But which is strange, these two persons, whose opinions are so different have yet so much reason that they never had any publick fallings out, and they have so well conceal'd their difference that I am almost the onely person that have had any knowledge of them. In the next place, Madam, you must know, that these two persons having both almost in the same time lost their Fathers and Mothers, they were plac'd under the Guardianship of a man of quality, call'd Tolumnius, whose wife was Aurelisa's Aunt. As for Terentia she was Cous∣in to Tolumnius, who had two Nephews, not Bro∣thers, to whom he intended to marry these two Virgins who have sufficient fortunes. In order to which, he educated them under his wife, whose name was Elinyssa, tho he conceal'd his determin∣ation; however, he so expresly commanded Aemyli∣us and Theanor, (who obey'd him as if he had been their Father) to insinuate themselves into the a∣ffection of these two persons, that they began to make Courtship to them, more out of obedience than choice, and consequently without Love towards them, or jealousie between themselves; for they had other things which affected their hearts. On the other side Aurelisa and Terentia having been adver∣tis'd by one of their relations, that they were to pre∣pare themselves to marry Aemylius and Theanor one day, lookt upon them as two men who in time might come to be their husbands. But as they could never love the same things, so they made different desires; for Terentia wish'd she might be lov'd by Aemylius, and

Aurelisa that she might be so by Theanor. Never∣theless, these wishes were conceal'd from all the World, and they never spoke of them but when they were alone. Nor did they then think that they spoke very seriously. For my part (said Aurelisa one day) I shall never resolve to become wife to Aemilius: not but that I see he is a person of much honour, but he is not such as I would have a Lover or a Hus∣band: but the case is otherwise in relation to Thea∣nor. As for my particular (added Terentia) I can∣not think of marrying Theanor, tho he be a per∣son of worth; but for Aemilius, I could easily re∣solve to do it. What? (said Aurelisa) would you be the wife of such an inconstant person as Aemylius, who has had a hundred Mistresses in his life. I would not marry him inconstant, (answer'd Terentia) but I should like well e∣nough to cure him of his inconstancy, and should not be loth to marry him when I had render'd him faithful. But can you your self (added Terentia) resolve to love and to marry Theanor, who you know loves a certain woman ever since he came to the use of reason, who makes a profession of being the most constant person in the World, and yet when he has marri'd you, will not cease to love his former Mistress? No, no, Terentia, (repli'd Aurelisa) I do not understand it so; but, to speak freely, I should take as much pleasure to render Theanor unfaithful to her that he loves, as you would have, in rendring Aemilius constant. Our two wishes are very different (answer'd Te∣rentia) for I desire to remove a defect from Emyli∣us, and you would confer one on Theanor. In truth (repli'd Aurelisa) I think we do not yet very well know what we would have; but the best I see for us, is, that in all probabilities we shall never desire the same things, and so having different pretensi∣ons, we shall alwaies live in peace, tho our inclina∣tions be contrary. However from that day Aurelisa and Terentia found arising in their hearts a kind of particular esteem for those two men, which had scarce any other apparent cause than the desire of contradicting one another. For, because Aurelisa e∣steem'd Emylius less than Theanor, therefore Terentia lov'd Theanor less than Aemilius; and for the same reason, Aurelisa knowing Terentia preferr'd Aemilius before Theanor, she gave the preheminence to Thea∣nor to the prejudice of Aemilius. Nevertheless, they so well conceal'd their sentiments, that they were taken notice of by no person whatsoever. But whil'st they contested thus, Aemilius and Thea∣nor who were friends, and mutually communicated most part of their sentiments, beheld these two Vir∣gins as most men do those whom they think they ought to marry, that is with an affection without ardour, and little better than ordinary civility; nor did they so much as inquire how their Uncle intend∣ed their marriages should be made; for Aemilius having at that time three or four Mistresses, and Theanor one who absolutely took up his heart, they onely consider'd that they whom they were to mar∣ry would be rich, without troubling themselves fur∣ther, except that they told their Mistresses, A wise man ought to marry only for his familie's sake, and to love onely for his own. They endeavour'd also to perswade them, that a marriage was not a real in∣fidelity; and they were happy enough to be be∣liev'd; for the inconstant Aemilius lov'd none but Gossips, and the constant Theanor loving a woman which could not be his, he perswaded her the more easily to what he desir'd. Things being in this po∣sture, I contracted an intimate friendship with these two young Beauties, and I hapned one day to be at Elinyssa's house with whom they dwelt, when Theanor and Aemilius came thither with two Ladies of no discommendable beauty. So that this conversati∣on being wholly compos'd of young persons (for Elinyssa was gone out of it about some affairs) it suddenly became very agreeable and gallant. 'This hapned so much the more easily, for that one of the Ladies who came with Theanor and Aemilius, and whose name was Cleoncia, being much addicted to make sport with her best friends, and to do it sometimes a little too pressingly; cunningly brought it in, to speak of unfaithful and constant Love, intending to give some light gird to those that were with her. She ask'd the other Ladies what they would do if they were necessitated to chuse a husband of two men, whereof one had a hundred Mistresses, and the other but one, whom he loved ardently. For my part, said one of the La∣dies, I would have neither of both; for certainly 'tis no great pleasure to be wife to one of those pro∣fess'd Weather-Cocks, who because they converse with none but Gossips, slight their Wives, and every day do a hundred things very displeasing to be seen; and 'tis yet less to be Wife of a Man who every mo∣ment is ready to sacrifice all his family to the per∣son whom he loves, whose thoughts are wholly tak∣en up with her, who never stirs from her, who is weary of all other places, who is prodigal in what concerns his love, and covetous in all other respects, and who will not have any thing that he do's, seen; or when it is observ'd, will not allow it to be com∣plain'd of. And which is strange, both that hus∣band who lends out his heart to whomsoever will have it, and he that gives his intirely to one person, do nevertheless require their Wives should keep a more exact fidelity to them, than any others. But since I may be mistaken (added she) I would know Aurelisa's opinion upon this case. Terentia then lookt upon Aurelisa, calling to mind what they had talk't of together some daies before; whereupon, (per∣ceiving it was believed, she was going to declare her true sentiments, and consequently to deter∣mine, that she lik'd a Husband better that had one constant Love, than one that had many) on a sud∣den to have the pleasure of deceiving her friend, she disguis'd her sentiments, and took the contrary side, with intention to anticipate all that she de∣sir'd to say. For my part, (said she, smiling) I see no ground there is to doubt; for 'tis better, no questi∣on, to be Wife of an unconstant Husband, provid∣ed he carry his business discreetly, than to be a Wife to a constant Lover, who perplexes his Wife with continual capricious. For inconstant Lovers, are almost generally of a good humour, whereas, on the contrary, Lovers scrupulously faithful, are for the most part fullen natur'd. Terentia observing Au∣relisa's subtlety, could not restrain her self from con∣tradicting her, tho in reality she contradicted her self. There is some wit in what you say, (said Te∣rentia) but yet it is certain, that it were incompara∣bly better, to be the Wife of a man who has a great passion, than of one of those that are inconstant to a thousand Loves, of whom every day a hundred stories are told, which divert the whole Court, and perplex his Wife in all companies, since she can

scarce go into any place without finding some Mi∣stress of her Husband's with whom she is at a loss how to comport her self: but it is not so with a Hus∣band that has but one Love; for provided you keep but some measure of civility to his Mistress, if he be ingenuous he will thank you for it, and if he does not love you, yet at least he will esteem you. While these two Virgins maintain'd the side they under∣took, which is sufficient weakness, because it did not agree with their real sentiments, Theanor and Ae∣milius, to whom this conversation was unpleasing, by reason of their being concern'd in it, believ'd that these two fair persons thought what they spoke, and thereupon Theanor was incens'd against Aurelisa, and Aemilius against Terentia. And either of them desiring to make good their side, produc'd all the reasons for it they couldinvent. For my part, (said Aemilius) I see not how the thing can be doubted; for I conceive no∣thing is more troublesome to a Wife, than one of those Husbands with a great passion, & nothing more convenient than one that is a Gallant. For he is scarce ever at home, some Feast alwaies takes him up; and, as he is unwilling to be constrain'd, so he gives the same liberty which he desires to take. On the contrary, a Husband of the other sort, is insupportable; for out of cross intention, that he may have something to blame in the deportment of his Wife, to the end that may excuse his own, he has continually his Spies to observe her. But however, (interrupt∣ed Theanor) the Husband you represent so, loves some person, and so his Wife has some ground to hope, if he can cease to love his Mistress, her self may at length get into his affection. But what can be hop'd from an inconstant person, who is never capable of loving any thing? If he do not love his Mistresses (said Aemilius) why should his Wife take it ill? But if the Husband who has a con∣stant Love, (answer'd Theanor) does not cease to use his Wife civilly, what reason has she to com∣plain? since you do not believe it necessary to her happiness, that she be lov'd. For my part, (said Aurelisa, contrary to her own sentiments again, be∣cause she had begun so) I am against Theanor: And I (added Terentia) against Aemilius. In my appre∣hension, (said I then) you are not against any bo∣dy; for to speak sincerely, you do not well know what you would do, if both of you had Husbands, which did not love you. It is not material for what reason you are not lov'd; since in what manner so∣ever the matter is, it is alwaies troublesome. How∣ever, whether you be lov'd or hated, you ought for Virtue's and your own sake, to be as faithful to a Husband that does not love you, as to one that does; for it is not fitting ever to revenge your selves to his prejudice; nor to offend by example. No doubt Terentia and Aurelisa thought the same thing that I spoke; for they are both very discreet; but they were in a manner not to agree to it, to the end they might have occasion to contest. Nevertheless, seemli∣liness restrain'd them, and so the conversation ended; after which, Theanor went away with a secret indignation against Aurelisa, and Aemilius against Terentia, tho in truth Aemilius was oblig'd to love Terentia, and Theanor Aurelisa. When they were return'd home, (for they lodg'd toge∣ther) they fell to speak concerning these two Ladies, and resolved between themselves, that if their Uncle should oblige them to marry them, Theanor should marry Terentia, and Aemilius Aureli∣sa. In the mean time, these two fair Virgins be∣ing retir'd, Terentia ask'd Aurelisa why she would not speak her mind really? 'Twas to hinder you from speaking yours, (answer'd she, smiling) for I conceiv'd you would not be of my opinion. But by obliging me not to speak what I thought, (reply'd Terentia) you did not speak your own thoughts, 'Tis true, (said she) but do not you know, that sometimes the mischief you do others, com∣pensates us for part of that we do ourselves? You may judge, Madam, by what I say, in what condition things then stood. But how weak soever this begin∣ning of aversion was which Aemilius had against Terentia, and Theanor against Aurelisa; and how slight soever an inclination Terentia had for Aemilius, and Aurelisa for Theanor, these first impressions were the true cause of all that have befallen them since. For Theanor after having had so long and constant affecti∣on in his Soul, was insensibly cur'd of that Love by another, and had a great dearness for Terentia, alwaies remembring the sentiments he had observ'd in her mind, at the time of that contest, at which I was pre∣sent. About the same time too, Aemilius being wea∣ry of the turmoil, occasion'd by the necessity of en∣tertaining several gallantries together, accustom'd himself to take more pleasure than usually in the company of Aurelisa; and thus these two friends by degrees became very amorous of the two fair Vir∣gins. But by a strange crossness of Fate, the first in∣clination of these two persons continuing, and be∣ing not alwaies able to restrain themselves from bearing envy one towards another, Terentia could not endure Theanor, and wisht so ardently Aemilius would love her in stead of him, that she seem'd to love him already. Aurelisa on the other side, accounting Ae∣milius insupportable, desir'd Theanor would please himself less with the company of Terentia, and more with hers. Not but that these four persons were every day together; but it is often seen, that tho persons be in the same place, their hearts are far distant from those in whose presence they are. However they all conceal'd their sentiments, and not know∣ing preciseely in what manner he on whom they de∣pended, would dispose of them, they expected till he declar'd his mind, every one of them desiring in their hearts, his pleasure might not check their re∣spective inclinations. But it was in a short time per∣ceiv'd, that some change hapned in the minds of Ae∣milius and Theanor; for the ancient Mistress of this latter, being possess'd with extreme jealousie, ut∣ter'd several expressions, which intimated that Thea∣nor could not but have an other Love. All the Mi∣stresses of Aemilius did the like, and within a very few daies it was generally talkt of, that Theanor was became unfaithful, and Aemilius constant. It was also added, that the cause of the constancy of one, and of the infidelity of the other, must needs be in E∣lynissa's house; but however, it could not be conje∣ctur'd, whether it were Aurelisa that Aemilius lov'd, or whether it were Terentia that had cur'd Theanor of his first passion: for these two Lovers not knowing the intention of their Uncle, durst not declare themselvs, and liv'd in partial civility towards these two Ladies, for whom they had notwithstanding very different sentiments, and by whom likewise they were lookt upon after a very different manner. I being then their intimate friend, inform'd them of the rumour that was reported concerning the constancy of Aemilius, and the unfaithfulness of Theanor, and ask't them for

whose sake Theanor was become unfaithful, and Ae∣milius constant. For it is not doubted, (added I) but 'tis for the sake of you two, that these Lovers have chang'd inclinations. For my part, (answer'd Terentia suddenly, and blushing) I know not whether Theanor loves me, but I know well Aemilius does not. I am very well assur'd, (said Aurelisa,) Theanor is not faithful for my sake; and as for Aemilius, I care so little for knowing wherefore he ceas'd to be in∣constant, that I have not at all taken notice of it. Yet I wonder, (added Terentia) you have not ob∣serv'd, that he takes more pleasure in speaking to you, than to me. I assure you I have taken notice of it, (answer'd she), but I have observ'd upon di∣vers occasions, that Theanor uses all his address to a∣void discourse with me, and seeks to place himself near you, as often as he can, without doing me inci∣vility. If it be (so repli'd Terentia coldly) I have rea∣son to complain and pity my self, and I wish Aemili∣us be more happy than he. If he have any such in∣tention towards me as you speak of, (answer'd Au∣relisa) he will not be more happy than his friend nor I than you. In truth (said I to them then) I see not, however the business be, how either of you can be unhappy; for Theanor and Aemilius are both such deserving persons, that you cannot make a bad choice of either of them. They were going to an∣swer, but these two Lovers enter'd, who, to con∣firm what they had spoken of, handsomely sought to place themselves according to their inclinations. Aemilius approacht near to Aurelisa, and Theanor to Terentia, At which both of them blusht; which the Lovers observing, interpreted to their own ad∣vantage, (as persons, in their condition, use to take all occasions of flattering themselves) tho in truth it was to their prejudice. For Terentia blusht out of spight, to see that Aemilius prefer'd Aurelisa before her self, and Aurelisa out of anger, to observe that Theanor neglected her in respect of her friend. How∣ever, being both intelligent, they suppressed their sentiments, and the conversation was nevertheless sufficiently agreeable at the beginning. For com∣ming to speak of gallantry, the question was put, whether that love were greater that could not con∣tain from declaring her self, or that which was con∣ceal'd out of respect. Terentia being in a great fear lest Theanor should tell her he lov'd her, and more, lest Aemilius should declare his mind to Aurelisa, made haste to answer that there was no cause of doubt, and that there was more love in not telling that one loves, when respect alone causes the Lover's silence, than in going to tell it with precipitancy. Aurelisa now found her self a little perplext; for she lov'd not to be of Terentia's opinion, and was as un∣willing to take upon her to maintain, that it was fit to declare one's love, for fear of encouraging Aemili∣us to tell her something that might not please her. Therefore she chose rather to say nothing of her self, but asked me, What I thought of the case? For my part who had no interest in it, I spoke sincerely what I thought of the matter, and indeavour'd to main∣tain, that a Lover who could restrain himself from de∣claring that he lov'd, had a less passion than he who in spight of the respect he bore to his Mistress, and in spight of his own reason, was enforc'd to profess that he was in love. Aemilius was of my opinion, and Theanor intending his silence should be a declaration of his love to Terentia, maintain'd the contrary, and was of her opinion: So that this dispute lasted for a good time. For my part, (said I) I confess to you, I fear people who are not able to contain from say∣ing they love, have nothing in their hearts which torments them very much; and there is no surer token of a luke warm affection, than the long si∣lence of a Lover. For, is not complaint an infalli∣ble sign of great sorrowes? little diseases are easily past over in silence, but the wisest complain of such as are great, and all the Philosophy of the most insensible persons, can scarce ever keep from crying out when they suffer very much. So that as, no doubt, it cannot be prov'd that silence is a sign of great pain in the body, no more can it be made out to be an evidence of great grief of mind. But, do you make no difference (said Theanor) between a great love and a great pain? No, (answer'd I); for, besides that I am perswaded there is no love without inquietude, which is a kind of pain, I am so also, that a Lover who has not declar'd his passi∣on, has so vehement a desire to tell it, that he suffers one of the greatest torments in the world. You have reason, Amiclea (said Aemilius to me) and I can answer you, that for certain it is the greatest misery that can be imagin'd. 'Tis no doubt a great trouble (repli'd Theanor) but for that reason it is a great sign of love; for is there any thing more ob∣liging to a Lady, than to make her know, that the fear of displeasing her, and the respect you have for her, obliges you to be silent, and to suffer without complaining? and besides (added he) to speak equi∣tably, was a Lover ever believ'd upon his word? and if he does no more than say, I love you, would any Lady in the world believe him? And if so, the best way or course to prove one's love, is by a thousand cares, and a thousand services, sighs, glances, and a thousand other wayes more effectual than words, without offending a fair person, who will not have the respect due to her, lost. Believe me (said I then to Theanor) the sighes, glances, cares and services you speak of, may be compar'd to metal, (of which not long since money has been made at Rome) whose value is redoubled by the Prince's stamp. For all that is done for a fair person before a man discovers himself to be a Lover, is lookt upon but as testimonies of esteem and friendship at most, and, till after such declarations, she does not look upon the services render'd to her, as testimonies of love. What you say, is, no doubt, very well spoken (said I to him) but it must be added, that when people are forbid∣den to speak, 'tis taken for no great offence if they break that prohibition, in case they be esteem'd, and they knew how to do it handsomely. But, Ami∣clea (answer'd Terentia) I think you have lost your reason, in accusing women of such a defect as this; For, I conceive, a deserving person can never be more oblig'd than when she sees her displeasure is dreaded, and that she is fear'd and respected. 'Tis true (repli'd I) but if a Lover do not profess himself to be such, how will he ever be lov'd? I know not whether he will be lov'd or no (answer'd Terentia) but I know well, that a Lover who should tell me rudely that he lov'd me, should be hated. When Amiclea (repli'd Aemilius) maintains it fit for a lover to declare his passion, she does not mean he should do it after an unhandsome manner. As I was going to answer, the Lady which Theanor had lov'd so long, arriv'd with two others; her name was Menesile, and it is not to be doubted, but she is a very confident person, and passionate. This visit very

much surpriz'd the company; for she did not use to visit Elynissa. But jealousie exciting a desire in her to see what pass'd in this cabal, she caus'd her self to be introduc'd by one of Tolumnius's friends. Ne∣vertheless Theanor the better to make known his love to Terentia, continu'd with her, tho he did not speak to her apart, for should he have desir'd it, she would not have given him occasion. When Aure∣lisa beheld this Lady enter, she well understood that a sentiment of jealousie induc'd her to make this vi∣sit; so that perceiving she still lov'd Theanor, this redoubled the inclination she had for him, as well as the envy she bore to Terentia; for she was extremely sorry that she was not the person to whom he prov'd unfaithful. A quarter of an hour after, three of Ae∣milius's ancient Mistresses arriv'd; but he saluted them so coldly, and lookt upon them so little, that it could scarce be thought he had ever seen them be∣fore. Whereupon Terentia observing that this un∣faithful person was become constant, was extream∣ly perplexed it was not for her sake that he despis'd all his former Mistresses. And so she became as me∣lancholick as Aurelisa. However, civility obliging them to entertain those that came to visit them, they fell to discourse of several things; after which the conversation being chang'd on a sudden, they inveighed very much against men in general. It was affirm'd that they were very frequently unjust, vindicative, inconstant, insensible, and given to de∣traction. Theanor and Aemilius then maintain'd the cause of their own sex, defended themselves the best they could. But at length, I know not how it came to pass, but one of the new-come Ladies, who did not love Menesile, askt me if I believ'd that a woman whom a man ceas'd to love, ought to be more offend∣ed than another, who could not gain the affection of a man she lov'd. This proposition made Menesile, Te∣rentia, and Aurelisa blush, which nevertheless was ob∣serv'd only by my self. Menesile recollecting her self in a moment, had confidence enough to make good her own cause. 'Tis so easie to answer to what you de∣mand (said she) that tho many persons be present here, who have more wit than my self, I think I shall have enough to convince you, that 'tis greater shame not to be able to makes one's self be lov'd, than to be abandon'd. For the shame reflects upon the desertor, and not on her that is forsaken. I know not whose the shame is (repli'd I) but I believe the anger is on her side that is relinquisht, if she persists to love. I believe (said Menesile) the cause of the anger is for having been deceiv'd; but however, a person that cannot make her self be lov'd, is not only angry, but ashamed of her own weakness: and whereas a woman that has been lov'd, and is so no longer, is possessed onely with despight, hatred, and contempt of her Renegade; she that loves without being lov'd, comes at length, when she has any heart, to hate and despise her self; which, no doubt is the cruellest thing in the world. While Menesile was speaking thus, Terentia, Aurelisa, and Theanor, were extremely perplext, being inforc'd to hear an un∣pleasing discourse, without answering to it. I ob∣serving their trouble (answer'd Menesile) and desiring to make a third party, In truth (said I to her) whe∣ther a woman loves without being lov'd, or whe∣ther her Lover forsakes her, she is worthy of pity if she be vertuous; for as for such as are not, they ought never to be pitied. But I would know fur∣ther (said she who made this proposition) who suffers most of the two. She that loves most (an∣swer'd Terentia). That is likely (repli'd a Lady of the company) to be the forsaken Lady; for I cannot understand that he that is not lov'd, can love very ardently. For my part (said another) I do not con∣ceive a woman can love, if her affection be not an∣swer'd when she gives some Testimony of it; but I do not believe it impossible but a vertuous person may have a secret and hidden inclination which may lead her to love rather one man than another; tho without testifying any thing of it. If it be so (answer'd Menesile) I believe really she that is forsa∣ken suffers more than she that is not lov'd; but if she believes that her eyes have betray'd the secret of her heart, and that he that she loves understands her affection without answering to it, I conceive she undergoes the torment of a shame of greater pain to her, than the blackest infidelity can cause. For in this case the remedy is at hand by scorning him from whom the injury is receiv'd. Whil'st Menesile was speaking thus, Aemilius talk't low to Aurelisa, who at that in∣stant lik't rather to hear him, than to be oblig'd to answer Menesile. You are very melancholick to day, Madam, (said he to her) altho I do not complain of your silence; for it being a kind of consent, I presume you agree that Amilcar had reason to say: There is greater love in not being able to contain from dis∣covering that passion, than in being silent out of respect; and therefore to avoid giving you leisure to change your sentiments, it is best for me to tell you in the most respectful manner possible, that of the most inconstant of all men you will make the most faithful Lover in the World, provided you will please to fasten the Knots which tye me to your ser∣vice. I beseech you, Aemilius, (answer'd Aurelisa much astonish'd) do not force me to speak more rude∣ly to you than I would: you know I have respect for Tolumnius, and that I should be extream sorry to dis∣please him. However if you accustome your self to speak to me as you do, it shall be hard but I will find out wayes to deliver me from your importunity. Au∣relisa spoke this with a certain severe aspect, which sensibly afflicted Aemilius; but in stead of being re∣pell'd by it, he became more amorous; for he was one of those to whom the difficulties of things encreases the desire of possessing them. Wherefore he spoke a∣gain to Aurelisa to the same purpose, but so respect∣fully, that she had no pretext to be offended with him. On the other side Theanor observing all Menesile's dis∣course was only to despight him, design'd to take ad∣vantage of her anger: so that when all the company was gone, he continu'd last, and approaching to Teren∣tia who was musing by a window, If you remember, Madam (said he to her with a low voice) all that you have heard spoken indirectly against me, remember also at the same time, that I have suffer'd it for your sake; and that if I had not an infinite respect for you, I should tell you, that did I not love you, I should not be unfaithful. I assure you (answer'd she) I will alwaies remember the quality you give your self, to the end I may not be endanger'd to love you more than I do; for in brief a man that can forsake one woman for ano∣ther when he is lov'd by her, may prove unfaithful to all that shall put confidence in him. After this, going aside to Aurelisa, Theanor was constrain'd to go away without saying more to her. The rest of the even∣ing Terentia and Aurelisa were sufficiently melancho∣lick, they undrest themselves almost without speak∣ing to one another, tho they lay in the same Chamber,

and it was not till the next morning that they spoke any thing. When, after they were drest, according to their custome, they went into a little Closet not far from their Chamber, expecting the hour to go to the Temple. As soon as they were there, Aurelisa (who naturally was more debonair than Terentia) ask't her with a something forc'd smile, whence it came to pass she was so pensive that day; For (said she) they ought not to be melancholick who have gain'd a vi∣ctory. You ought then to be more frolick than you are (answer'd Terentia) for you have triumph'd more gloriously than I. If you will change your victory (reply'd Aurelisa) I am content. I assure you, it shall not be my fault (answer'd Terentia): not that I absolutely agree to what I perceive you think; but I answer to your words rather than to the truth of the business you set upon me for. But I shall alwaies draw this advantage from what you have said, that I see Aemilius has mention'd his love to you, and I did not convince him yesterday. I acknowledge it (repli'd Aurelisa, knowing it would afflict Terentia): but now confess to me whether Theanor did not make you know he loves you; and that as I have made a faithful Lover of an unconstant one, you have made a man unfaithful who was reputed the most constant in the World. Your sincerity requiring the like from me (answer'd Terentia) I confess to you, Thea∣nor made me understand he loves me. Ah! Teren∣tia (said Aurelisa) why have you not made Aemilius your Lover? Ah! Aurelisa (say'd Terentia) where∣fore have you not gain'd the heart of Theanor, which I know not what to do with? The misery is (added she) that I perceive 'tis Tolumnius's absolute pleasure we should marry his Nephews; and that, according as your heart and mine are dispos'd, we shall be alwaies unhappy. For I tell you again, I shall never be able to live with Aemilius, tho he is a person of merit. I say the same of Theanor (an∣swer'd Terentia). After this, the like unhappiness u∣niting the hearts of these two Virgins, they promis'd much friendship and fidelity one to another. But, in order to seek some remedy to their hard fortunes, Terentia promis'd Aurelisa alwaies to treat Theanor ill, and never to marry him, what command soever To∣lumnius should lay upon her to that purpose, whom she obeyed as her own father. And Aurelisa like∣wise promis'd on her part, never to speak any thing favourable to Aemilius, nor marry him, whatever command should be lay'd upon her to it; they pro∣mis'd also to relate sincerely all that those two Lov∣ers should say to them. But alass! (said Terentia) all our providence will perhaps be unprofitable to hinder us from being unhappy; for it is in our pow∣er not to marry those we do not love, but if it should be propounded to us to marry those we do not hate, perhaps we shall not be able to refuse them, tho they do not love us; and 'tis possible Theanor and Aemi∣lius will have the weakness to obey Tolumnius out of a regard to their interest. However, I confess to you, I should think my self as unhappy to marry a man who should not love me, and I should affect, as to marry one whom I had no affection for, and lov'd me. You have reason (answer'd Aurelisa). But since hope is not to be dis∣claim'd to the last, we ought to hope that being united as we are at present, it may fall out that we may change our destiny; Aemilius may come to love you, and Theanor not to hate me. After this they made a thousand caresses to one another, and express'd a thousand blandishments. At the end of this conversation they went to the Temple, where their two Lovers were, who confirm'd by their looks what they had spoken the day before. At their return from the Temple, they were told, one of her Friends, delited they would go in the even∣ing into the Gardens of the Palace, whither, as you know, Madam, the whole Court resorts very fre∣quently in fair weather. Accordingly they went thither with a Kinswoman of theirs, imagining their Friend would take the pleasure to walk with them; but they found it was to hear musick-enter∣tainment which Theanor and Aemilius had prepar'd for them, and that she in whose name they were requested to come, knew nothing of this gallan∣try; which, instead of exciting joy in them for whom it was intended, afforded them but regret and discontent. Some daies after, these Lovers gave a magnificent Collation to the same per∣sons, in that delightful Grove which is call'd the Grove of the Spring, because the verdure appears there sooner than any other where, and all the World resorts to walk there in that season: and to make their love more taken notice of, one evening they gave a Ball under a magnificent Tent in the middle of that Meadow, which is call'd the Meadow of Flora, because indeed it is alwaies cover'd over with flowers. Terentia and Aurelisa were at a des∣perate loss with these contrivances of their two Lovers to please them; but yet it behov'd to be pre∣sent at all their entertainments for fear of displeas∣ing Tolumnius and Elinyssa. Not long after, they were joyful to understand that Tolumnius had resolv'd to go and spend some time in the Countrey at a ve∣ry fair house of his near Clusium. They understood also that I was to be of the company; and according∣ly I departed two daies after with them; upon which occasion, as friendship is more speedily contracted during a little journey into the Countrey than in the City, they were pleas'd to make me privy to the fear they were in, lest Tolumnius should determine to marry them after a manner contrary to their own inclinations; and, in brief, they told me all the principal secrets they had in their breasts. I con∣fess to you they caus'd me to pity them, and finding an occasion to intermeddle with love in∣nocently, I promis'd to do all I could to change the hearts of their two Lovers, who were both my familiar friends. During our Countrey-journey, there was nothing but continual feasting; but these two Virgins desiring me not to desert them at all, that so their Lovers might not have the liberty to speak to them apart, I did it indeed so handsomely, without Aemilius and Theanor's ever suspecting my design to hinder them from discoursing to them, that they could not say any thing to them concerning their passion. I did not con∣tent my self with doing this office to these two Virgins, I spoke severally to both their Lovers, in order to perswade them into sentiments con∣trary to their own. For speaking to Aemilius I extol'd Terentia with exaggeration, and did the like for Aurelisa speaking to Theanor. But, to speak truth, I did not observe they commend∣ed them with the same ardour. On the contra∣ry when I spoke of Aurelisa to Theanor he spoke to me of Terentia; and as soon as I nam'd Teren∣tia to Aemilius, he mention'd Aurelisa to me. In the mean time these two Lovers were so solicitous to

get themselves lov'd, that they did not perceive they were lov'd by those whom they did not affect. 'Tis true, Terentia and Aurelisa being both discreet and vertuous, they conceal'd their sentiments the best they could, and did not cease to seem pleasant, to be sociable, and shew an equal civility to those for whom they had very differing sentiments. That which render'd them the more unhappy, was, that tho Theanor were in love with Terentia, yet he did not cease to live much in favour with Aurelisa; and tho Aemylius lov'd Aurelisa, yet he was much complacential towards Terentia. Now it falling out that these two Lovers had Affairs at Court, they made but little journeys on a day. They made very urgent requests to Aurelisa and Terentia that they would permit them to write to them, but they would not grant it. Yet I, who lov'd news well when I was in the Countrey, desir'd one of my friends who was one of theirs too, to send me not only what he knew at Clusium, but likewise all intelligence he should receive from any other place, for he was one that had correspondence through∣out all Italy. Not that I car'd much what pass'd in places where I knew no person, but Tolumnius loving to know all that was acted all the World over, I was willing to divert him during my residing at his house. And accordingly, that Friend of mine several times sent me very ample relations of all that pass'd at Court, with the extracts of Letters which he receiv'd from Rome, Veii, Tarentum, Cuma, Vol∣aterra, Panormus, Capua, and divers other places. So that this affording divertisement to Tolumnius, and the news of the World giving sufficient pleasure to Terentia, Aurelisa, and my self, we awaited with much impatience the day that we were to receive Letters. One night we went to walk, expecting their arrival, and thinking to have them a moment sooner. And as we were between two Meadows border'd about with Willows, we saw him arrive who was wont to bring my Packets, and who now deliver'd me several. Amongst the rest, I beheld one which I did not know, so that the desire of knowing who writ it, caus'd me to open it first; which done, I found it was a relation divided into distinct Ar∣ticles like those I was wont to receive, tho I did not know the Character of it. Terentia and Aurelisa observing my astonishment, approch't toward me; and all three of us sitting down at the foot of a Tree, I began to read the relation which was in e∣ffect the same I am going to repeat to you; for I know I shall not alter the sense; however, I may something change the words.

Of the Court.

Persons envious, discontented, and ungratefull are al∣wayes to be found here; they to whom any thing is given, believe they deserve more; they to whom nothing is given, think that rob'd from them which is given to others; in the mean time all the World is oftentimes in a burly burly without knowing wherefore. There are found there ambi∣tions persons without merit, flatterers ill rewarded, false friends resembling true, an out side of goodnesse which charms new-comers, and yet do's not deceive them who have experience; in brief, imposture and fraud is seen every where, and handsome deportment without honesty. As for love, there is little can be call'd so; altho sometimes certain frivolous loves are to be seen there, which are fit only for young idle persons that know not what to do, and many times too know not what to say. Loves of in∣terests are seen there likewise, which inspire onely unwor∣thy actions, and there is scarce ever any sincere love to be found unlesse it be in the breasts of Theanor and Aemylius, whose hearts they say are in the Countrey, tho their persons are seen every day at the Queen's Palace, where thy appear so melancholy that all the Ladies com∣plain of them.

Of CLUSIUM.

All the envious Fair ones rejoice here, for the absence of the two fairest persons in the World; yet they do not draw much advantage by it: for all worthy persons are so afflicted with it, that all their conversations are turn'd into sadnesse. There are some who affirm two of their Loves are in danger to die of sorrow if they do not spee∣dily return, tho it be not the custom to die for the ab∣sence of a rigorous Mistresse; Otherwise, Clusium is as it is wont to be, that is, the powerful oppresse the weak, every one seeks that which pleases him, those which govern are repin'd at, projects and designs are contriv'd to no end, little true vertue is to be found there, but much hypocrisie, disorderly magnificence, excessive avarice, in∣justice, irregularity and confusion.

Of the Gardens of the Palace.

All the Ladies who were wont to pull down their Veils, when they fear'd lest their beauty should be con∣strain'd to yield to that of Terentia and Aurelisa, walk with open countenances during their absence; but for that the image of those two fair persons remains in the hearts of all those who have judicious eyes in relations to beauty, they have never the more admirers, and the remembrance of those who are no more seen there, still prejudices the glory of those that are.

On the Grove of the Spring.

Tho all the Trees be here as green as usual, yet there is much lesse company than was wont; not but that there are still a hundered thousand Birds which make the most delightfull melody that can be heard; but the rea∣son, no doubt, is, for that the crowd of honorable persons who came to walk here the last year, came not so much to hear the Nightingals sing as to behold the two fairest persons of the Earth, who were seen there al∣most every day. Now, instead of them, two melancholick Lovers are seen very frequently-there, who came to sigh in the most solitary places of the Grove. Sometimes they loose themselves in it, their grief so possesses them; and there are some also who assure they have made very amorous Verses which have been found carv'd upon the Trees, by which it appears that one of them loves a handsom fair woman, and the other a beautiful brown, However, this Wood appears so solitary, that there is cause to believe there will be no more resorting to it, if those two fair ones who are absent do not speedily return.

On the Ball, upon the evening of Juno's Festivall.

All sorts of people are seen here; some dance well, o∣thers ill, and many others do not dance at all. There are seen also several Ladies who ought not to dance more, be∣cause 'tis too long agoe since they begun to dance. There are young people too, who begin to see the World by the Fall, and are so out of countenance, that they cannot dance ac∣cording to the right cadence. Here are also knots and

factions, tho the design oftentimes is onely to dance ill. But, what is most resented, is, that the fairest ornament of the Assemblies at Clusium is no longer seen here, name∣ly Terentia and Aurelisa. And 'tis for the same reason, that Theanor and Aemilius are not seen here, who like bet∣ter to be in solitude by themselves than to be seen at the Ball, where they cannot see the only persons that can please them.

On the Medow of Flora.

All the World is much amaz'd, not to see any lon∣ger here that abundance of Flowers which were wont to be seen every year. Indeed, they say the West-winds, which serve to maintain the freshnesse of Flowers, have follow'd those two fair ones that love them, and that this is the cause the Medow has almost no Flowers this year. They speak of sending to request them to return, but very many beau∣ties oppose it, because they like better the Medow should be without Flowers, than to see the admirable complexion of Aurelisa and Terentia outshine the lustre of their own.

On the Temple of Venus.

A great sacrifice is preparing here for two unfortunate Lovers, who cannot be lov'd by their Mistresses, tho they have the most ardent and faithful passion in their breasts that ever was. There are some believe, that if they do not resolve to reward their fidelity, the Goddesse they adore will revenge their deaths after a strange manner; for 'tis the custom of this Goddesse, when she is offended with Ladies rebellions against the Laws of her son, to take a∣way their beauty immaturely, or cause them to love with∣out being lov'd. Therefore 'tis to be wish'd, those two fair persons would reward their Lovers for being so faithful. If they do so, they shall be happy in the highest degree, no∣thing being more sweet than to love and be lov'd, nor no∣thing so miserable as not to love at all.

Well, (said I to Aurelisa and Terentia, after I had done reading this news) What think you of that which you have heard? Me thinks, (answer'd Terentia) to my great discontent, Aemilius has a great wit. How? (reply'd Aurelisa roughly) do not you know 'tis Theanor that made this gallantry? For my part, (said I to them) if you ask me what I think, I shall tell you I believe it belongs to them both in common, that they have joyn'd their braines to∣gether, that they have both contriv'd the design, and afterwards caus'd it to be written by an unknown hand. No, no, (answer'd Terentia) 'tis not Theanor that writ these news; no question he has much wit, but it does not lye this way, and 'tis only Aemilius that could invent this folly. On the contrary (reply'd Aurelisa) it looks so like Theanor's, that I cannot be mistaken. However it be, (said I to them) if the Author of this Gallantry be doubtful, the cause of it is not so too, and you may easily judge that it was made for your sakes. Alas! (answer'd Terentia) what am I the better, if this contrivance be ingenious and handsome, if Love in∣spir'd Aemilius with it only to divert Aurelisa? Good gods, (reply'd that fair Virgin) what advantage is it to me, that Theanor had a hand in this agreeable folly, since you were the only occasion of it? 'Tis very strange, (said I to them) that by these news it cannot be known, whether Theanor intended it to Terentia or Aemilius to Aurelisa. Alas! (answer'd Terentia) the matter is not dubious; for after what they have told us, they conceive we easily make the application of what they write. However, all their wit is very ill bestow'd in the manner they employ it. But wherefore (said I) do not you both strive to conform your minds to your fortunes, and to love them that love you? Ah! my dear Amiclea, (cry'd Terentia) how happy are you in being ignorant of the power of a vehement inclination! and how cruell (added Aurelisa) in thinking we do not do all we are able, to love those that love us! At least, I know I have omitted nothing to effect it, nor neg∣lected any endeavours to love Aemilius, and hate Theanor. I have done more than you, (answer'd Terentia) for I have attempted to bring my selfe to that passe, as to be only indifferent for both, and I could never effect it, and notwithstanding all my endeavours, I have still an inclination for Aemili∣us and aversion for Theanor. However, out of re∣spect both to Vertue and Seemlinesse, both the one and the other ought to be equally conceal'd, for fear of offending Tolumnius; and that which ren∣ders me more miserable, is, that I believe, if Aemili∣us knew I did not hate him, and you did, it is possible he would love me. I have believ'd as you do, (reply'd Terentia) that if Aemilius were not ignorant of your aversion against him, and the incli∣nation I have to love him, in all probability he would love me; but at present I believe it lesse than I did. Therefore that which pleases me most in this Gallantry of Theanor and Aemilius, is, that these two Lovers however suspect nothing of our weak∣nesse towards them, and so I may see them without blushing; for if they had had any such suspition, they would not have said in this last Article of news, that when Venus is offended, she punishes the fair ones, that have disobey'd her, by causing them to love without being lov'd. In truth, (answer'd Aurelisa) our destiny is sufficiently intricate; for according to all probability we are likely to be very unhappy. After this, she took the pleasant news that was written to me, and read it over from the begin∣ning silently, whilst Terentia was in a deep musing, and I stood by observing them both. After Aurelisa had read the pacquet, Terentia took her turn to read it too; and tho it was sent on purpose to divert them, yet it made them both very sad. Neverthe∣lesse, they had some consolation the next day; for Tolumnius speaking to me in private, told me he had a purpose to marry Terentia and Aurelisa to his Nephews, and therefore desir'd me to know of these two Ladies what their inclination was, it being more just (as he said) to know the true sentiments of those which ought to obey, than of those who are to command. Wherefore (taking this occasion to do a service to my friends, tho it were against the inclination of my two of the other Sexe) I told him it was not necessary for me to speak to Terentia or Aurelisa, and that since I understood them better than they did themselves, I could assure him Te∣rentia would never be happy, if she marry'd The∣anor, but that she might be so with Aemilius; on the other side, that Aurelisa would be miserable with Aemilius, and very well satisfi'd with Theanor. If it be so, (reply'd Tolumnius) it will be easie for me to content them; for Theanor and Aemilius will not dare to disobey me; and besides, (added he) I be∣lieve their hearts are free enough at present, not to make any resistance to my commands. Moreover, both Terentia and Aurelisa are so well educated, that it will be no difficulty for them to comply with my pleasure. I thought to tell him then that he was

mistaken, but I was afraid to speak too much; and therefore I left the matter in this condition, and went to find my Friends. Terentia presently blush't at what I had said, but Aurelisa thank'd me for it; for I see not (said she) how any inconvenience can follow upon this adventure; for if Theanor and Aemilius readily obey, it will be a sign the passion they have for us, will not be strong enough to hinder us from hoping to be lov'd by them; and if they absolutely refuse to obey, indignation will cure us, and perhaps lead us to admit of the affection of them that love us, For my part, (said Terentia) I hope nothing, and I fear all; but when all is done, the case having no remedy, must be resolv'd upon. The same evening these two Lovers desiring to know how their news was taken, arriv'd, and made shew as if they knew nothing of it. But I being desirous to oblige them, commended that Gallantry before them; I shewd them it, and I brought them at length to confesse in secret, that they had contriv'd it together, as I had imagin'd. After all the Company was retir'd, Tolumnius did not fail to cause them to be call'd, that he might tell them what he had resolv'd upon. You know (said he to them) what command I lay'd upon you, to accu∣stome to visit Terentia and Aurelisa, and that 'tis my pleasure you should marry them; but since it is hard for a Man to be contented with the deportment of his Wife, if he be not lov'd by her, I have observ'd and caus'd the inclinations of the two persons I de∣sign for you carefully to be noted by a person of their familiarity. So that it shall be your own fault if you be not happy; for in brief, I know Terentia has for you (said he, looking upon Aemilius) all the inclination a vertuous Virgin can have for a Man whom she looks upon as he that is to be her hus∣band: and I know also (added he, speaking to Thea∣nor) that Aurelisa has a dearnesse for you, which ought to oblige you to prefer her readily before Terentia. Is it possible, my Lord (answer'd they both at once) that you should be well inform'd of that which you speak? Doubt not of it, (reply'd he) and conform your selves to my will; for tho you should have no great affection for these two Ladies, ye must think of nought but to marry them. They are fair, young, prudent, and rich; and that's suf∣ficient. If you do not love them before you marry them, you will love them after; as well as it often∣times falls out, that they who love their Wives be∣fore, come shortly after not to love them at all. Marriage and Love are two things, which are not frequently long together; and therefore determine only to obey me, for all my estate is for them who o∣bey me, and not for others. As for what concerns me, (reply'd Theanor) no respect of interest shall ever cause me to do any thing. And for my part, (added Aemili∣us) nothing can ever induce me to marry Terentia. For, in brief, (added he) since it equally concerns Theanor and my selfe, to let you know the truth, we ardently love Terentia and Aurelisa. But, my Lord, 'tis because we love them that we cannot marry them in the manner you propound to us; for Theanor loves Terentia, and I love Aurelisa. But since Aure∣lisa loves Theanor, (reply'd Tolumnius) and you are lov'd by Terentia, it concernes you to enforce your sentiments; for it is much more dangerous for a man to marry a Wife by whom he is hated, than it is for him to marry one whom he loves not, if he be lov'd by her, especially when she is fair and wise. However it be, (said he to them) I will not lay any constraint upon the two young Ladies, whose Pa∣rents at their death left them under my Guardian∣ship. But since you depend on me, and have a thou∣sand obligations to me, and since I can ruine you when I please, you ought to yield to my will: do so if you be wise; for assuredly you shall repent your selves if you do otherwise. Tolumnius spoke this with an aspect of choler, which hindred Theanor and Aemi∣lius from answering him; besides, having made them a sign to retire, they were constrain'd to go forth of his chamber to their own, but with so much af∣fliction, that they spent the night without sleeping: for Tolumnius having told them he knew the incli∣nations of Terentia and Aurelisa, they imagin'd it was an artifice of those two Ladies who hated them, to put an obstacle to their design. The next morning they were so sad, that never was a day pass'd after a more melancholy manner than that; for Tolumni∣us was possess'd both with grief and indignation; the two Lovers were alike in despair; and Terentia and Aurelisa were both equally afflicted and asham'd. Not long after Tolumnius told me, it very much troubled him, to find that Theanor and Aemilius had dispos'd of their hearts otherwise than they ought, but he intreated me to say nothing of it to Terentia and Aurelisa, and assur'd me he knew well how to make himself be obey'd. Yet this news did not re∣joyce these two fair Ladies, from whom I thought I ought not to conceal it; for when they came to con∣sider, that if Tolumnius persecuted Theanor and Aemilius, they might be hated by those whom they lov'd, their minds were in a strange perplexity. On the other side, the two Lovers, who were intimate friends, were in an unconceivable trouble; for if they resolv'd to obey, they should marry Women whom they did not love, either of them remaining amorous of one another's Wives. You may easily conceive that this gave them no small affliction. In∣deed in this condition they knew not what to say, either to her that they lov'd, or to her that they did not affect. Wherefore they chose rather to return to Clusium, than to continue in a place so unpleasing to them. Their departure offended Tolumnius, and sen∣sibly afflicted Terentia and Aurelisa. Sometimes they had sentiments of hatred, sometimes thoughts of love, and scarce ever any other than apprehensions of despaire. For my part, I did all I could to appease Tolumnius, and to comfort the two afflicted Ladies; but at length the time was come to return to the City, where all these persons were in a new per∣plexity. Before Tolumnius had spoken to the two Lovers, they did not perceive that themselves were very much hated or lov'd; but after he had told them they were not lov'd at all, and yet that they were not hated, they wonder'd they had no sooner understood the truth. When Theanor beheld Te∣rentia, he observ'd in her eyes a forc'd civility, which caus'd him almost to dye with grief, and when he look'd upon Aurelisa, he saw in hers something so sweet and modest, which intimated so much ob∣ligement, that he wonder'd he had not before per∣ceiv'd it. Aemilius on his part, when he look't upon Aurelisa, perceiv'd such a kind of fiercenesse in her eyes, that he could not see her without discontent; but he observ'd obliging languour in those of Teren∣tia, tho he avoided her looks as much as he could, that it made him think himselfe still more unhap∣py. Having taken notice of these different senti∣ments,

the two Lovers became more miserable; for before they comforted one another, but after that time they had severall fallings out, and accus'd one another unjustly, for the causes of their unhappi∣nesse. But yet from time to time, the equality of their ill fortune reunited them, and they contested again as often, and were possess'd with jealousie, altho they had no cause for it. For sometimes Thea∣nor accus'd Aemilius of not being displeas'd for being too much lov'd by Terentia, and presently after Aemilius reproacht to Theanor, that he was glad for being lov'd by Aurelisa. In the mean time they were possess'd with so violent a passion, that they could not resolve ever to obey Tolumnius. Who being an imperious man, was extremely disgusted with them, insomuch, that he said publickly, he would give all his estate to Terentia and Aurelisa, and marry them to others. And no question it was easy to find persons that would marry two fair, young, rich, and ver∣tuous Ladies; in order to which he propos'd to match Terentia and Aurelisa to two men of quality, who were amorous of them. But these two Ladies requested him with very much generosity, not to take away his estate from his nephews, and refused to marry the persons he propounded to them, tell∣ing him, that if the businesse were once accom∣plisht, they that should marry them, would not re∣quire what he gave them, and that for their parts it was not possible for them to resolve to see two such deserving persons as Theanor and Aemilius, un∣happy, for their sakes. However, 'tis certain Love had a share in their generosity, and it was not in their power to marry two men whom they did not love. Tolumnius esteeming them the more for this deportment, hated his nephews more, who on the o∣ther side were desperate at so generous actions, be∣cause they found it did not prejudice their love: for their passion increased from day to day, and they were so unhappy, that I could not but commiserate them. Mean while, they to whom Tolumnius pre∣tended to marry these two fair virgins, looking upon Theanor and Aemilius, as the obstacles of their hap∣pinesse, did not see them but with trouble and in∣dignation; and Aemilius and Theanor on the other side, considering them as persons that intended to make advantage of their unhappinesse, sought oc∣casion to quarrel with them, which they soon found, and fought. Theanor encountred him that was to mar∣ry Terentia, and Aemilius was matcht with him that was to have Aurelisa to his wife. The first of them mortally wounded his enemy, and Aemilius disarm'd his. Indeed their victory cost them dear; for they were both very much wounded. This combat fur∣ther increased the anger of Tolumnius, and caus'd much grief to Terentia and Aurelisa: for the latter was afflicted to see Theanor ardently lov'd by Terentia, and the former was so, to observe how much Aemilius was enamor'd on Aurelisa; but these two Ladies were much more troubled when they understood their two Lovers were in danger of dying. For, be∣ing possessed with great discontent, their wounds became sufficiently dangerous, and it was believ'd they would dy, tho their strength was still very vig∣orous. However, Tolumnius would not see them, but Elinyssa visited them without her husband's know∣ledge. During their weaknesse, Terentia and Aurelisa omitted no obliging care towards them both, with∣out distinction. The two lovers requested Elinyssa, she would please to let them see their fair Mistresses before they dy'd. Who being good and compassion¦nate, promis'd them they should, and entreated me to perswade my friends; whom with no great dif∣ficulty I brought to consent to it, not knowing but in this condition the two Lovers would resolve to ren∣der justice to their affection. They requested me that I would be one in this sad conversation; and Tolum∣nius being then at his house in the Country, Elinyssa lead us to the lodgings of these unhappy Lovers, ei∣ther of which desir'd to speak one after another to their Mistresses. After the first civilities, I betook my self to discourse with Elinyssa, whilst Theanor was speaking to Aurelisa, and Aemylius to Terentia. I desire your pardon, Madam, (said Aemilius to her, by whom he was lov'd) for the trouble I give you; but I find my self so unhappy, and so criminal, that I have not been able to refuse my selfe the consola∣tion of justifying, or at least excusing my self to you. For, in brief, Madam, when I first began to visit you, I observ'd my friend lov'd you; and I have alwaies found him so deserving a person, that I could not doubt but that he was lov'd again. Wherefore suf∣fering my heart to be surpriz'd by the charms of Anrelisa, I was not in a condition to dispose of my self, when I understood you had an aversion against Theanor, tho he had a great passion for you. How∣ever, you have not ceas'd to be good and generous; and, to perfect your being so, (added he), pardon me a crime which I cannot yet hinder my self from committing, and save the life of an illustrious friend, to render justice to the affection Theanor bears you. For, in brief, amiable Terentia, I do not love Aurelisa more ardently than Theanor does you. I wish to the gods (answer'd she sighing) I could love Theanor, I should be more happy than I am; but however, I can assure you I pity you both, and am much afflict∣ed I cannot contribute to the felicity of either. Alas! Madam, (reply'd he) for my part I seek no∣thing but to dy a little lesse criminal in your esteem, and a little lesse hated by the charming Aurelisa. I understand you well (answer'd Terentia blushing) and I will make you see that it is not my fault that you are not happy, At these words this fair virgin arose up, and told Aurelisa, Aemilius desir'd to speak with her. Upon which Theanor, who had an ex∣treme desire to speak with Terentia, told her with much civility, he conjur'd her to go and revive his friend, by giving him some small hope. Aurelisa not daring to refuse, because Elinyssa was present, went accordingly to speak with Aemilius whom she affected not, after having had a conversation with Theanor, almost like that which he had had with Terentia. When she approacht to him, Well, Mad∣am, (said he to her) shall the unfortunate Aemilius be hated when he is a dying? and shall he not have at least the consolation to think that you will pity him, and that if Theanor dyes as well as he, all your tears shall not be spent upon that ungrateful person, who loves you lesse than another Lady, very amiable indeed, but yet much lesse than you? Terentia (an∣swer'd Aurelisa) is more amiable than I, and you are so oblig'd to her, that you are as unjust in not loving her, as I am unjust in not loving you: But, in brief, we are not governors of our own destiny. However, believe that I pity you, and if I could render you hap∣py, I would do it with joy. You may at least let me dy with some consolation (reply'd Aemilius) by permitting me to believe that you would not hate me, but only because you love Theanor; and that,

if you lov'd him not, you would perhaps look upon me more favourably. After this, Madam, I shall desire nothing more of you. Whilst Ae∣milius was speaking thus to Aurelisa, Theanor us'd all the sweetest and most affecting expressions to Terentia, that the most tender love could inspire him with; but this Ladie's mind being disturb'd, for having found nothing but generosity in Theanor's heart towards her, answer'd him so negligently, that this afflicted Lover was ready to die at that ve∣ry instant, and lost his speech through the excess of his grief, But tho Terentia was extreamly perplex'd to understand how ardent Aemilius's affection was for Aurelisa, yet she left Theanor very hastily, and came to help Elinyssa and me to succour him; inso∣much that not being able to suppress his complaint, O gods (cry'd he lifting up his eies to heaven) with how many torments, would I have deserv'd Aemili∣us's death? In speaking which, this furious Lover offer'd to pluck off all that was laid upon a wound he had receiv'd in the left arm; whereupon Aurelisa leaving him by whom she was lov'd, to go to succour him whom she lov'd, tho he did not affect her, re∣strain'd his hand; and, making use of the power her friend had over him to withhold him. In the name of Terentia (said she to him) taking him by the hand, restrain part of your grief, and believe (added she, transported by an excess of tenderness, which the danger she saw him in, excited in her heart) that it shall not be my fault if Terentia do not render you happy. Yes, Theanor (continu'd this afflicted beau∣ty) since you cannot live for me, and cannot live without her, I will become the Confident of your pas∣sion, and serve you with her, tho it be to act against my self. Alass! Madam, (said she to her) 'tis enough that I die with grief, without causing me to die with confusion. Leave an ungrateful person, leave me to die, and succour the unfortunate Aemilius, who a∣dores you, and dies only for your sake. As we were in this perplexity, word was brought to Elinyssa, that Tolumnius was fallen sick at his house in the Coun∣try, and sent for her to come to him. So that it was requisite to depart, which nevertheless we did not do till after Aemilius was recover'd from his swoon, and those that attended on them were call'd for. But in fine, Madam, (to shorten my relation as much as I can) these two Lovers were cur'd in spight of them∣selves, and Tolumnius dy'd in the Country; but at his death he gave all his estate to Terentia and Aureli∣sa, and requested Elinyssa to do the like at hers, if Theanor did not marry Aurelisa, and Aemilius, Teren∣tia. These two generous Ladies after the death of Tolumnius, would not accept what he had giv∣en them, Terentia resolving to confer her part on Aemilius, and Aurelisa hers on Theanor. But they being as generous as their Mistresses, refus'd this high munificence. Theanor told Aurelisa, it was sufficient he could not give her his heart, without taking away from her an estate which belong'd to her, and Aemilius said the same to Terentia; inso∣much, that Elinyssa has been constrain'd to take care of all the estate of Tolumnius, till these four persons resolve what they will have her to do with it. The relations of Aurelisa and Terentia after the death of Tolumnius desir'd to take away these two Ladies from Elinyssa, and place them about the Queen, where they have been ever since, with sentiments of equal affection, without being able to succeed in changing their hearts; tho, during four months, Theanor, Ae∣milius, Terentia and Aurelisa, have done all they could to overcome themselvs. In the mean time Terentia has not omitted to do any good office for Aemilius, nor Aurelisa for Theanor, either with the King or Queen; so that, with the consent of these two Lovers, I may say there is no person in the world to whom they have so much obligation, as to these two Vir∣gins, whom they can never love. 'Tis true, Theanor has more obligation to Aurelisa, than Aemilius to Terentia, because she has really done all she could, to perswade this fair Virgin to marry him. And there∣fore 'tis a sentiment of gratitude, which caus'd that Lover to act, as all the Court has seen, when they were in danger of being drown'd. For you must know, Madam, that yesterday whilst the King was speaking to the Queen and you, Terentia and Aurelisa passing out of the porch to the bridge which lies over the ditch to go into the garden, Theanor and Aemilius, who attended on the King, were leaning against the gate to speak to them; and, as (persons that love never speak but what has relation to their passion, when they can) these two Lovers were rejoicing that the Queen being near the Camp, they could at least have the consolation of seeing them sometimes during the War. Theanor offer'd to speak some ob∣liging words to Terentia, who rejected him uncourte∣ously to speak to Aemilius who was on her side, tho his heart was Aurelisa's. So that this unhappy Lov∣er, not being able to discourse with her he lov'd, was oblig'd to speak to her that lov'd him. For my part (said Theanor) all the joy I have in the Queen's be∣ing near the Camp, is, that if I die at the siege (as I wish, since I can never be happy) Aurelisa will hear of my death one day sooner, and have the contentment, to see her self delivered from an ungrateful person. However, (answer'd Aurelisa) then I have cause to reproach you, that 'tis not my fault that you are not happy even at the loss of my own felicity. As she ended these words, the bridge broke, Aurelisa fell on the side where Theanor was, to whom she had spoken so obligingly, and Terentia fell on the side of Aemilius. I having since discours'd with those two Lovers, am inform'd what they thought in that oc∣casion, in which their passions and their reasons had a contest of a moment's duration, which caus'd them to act after a very different manner; for Theanor finding himself on the side where Aurelisa was fallen into the water, his first thought was to succour her: for having his mind then fill'd with what she had spoken so obligingly to him, the affe∣ction he had for her, the thousand offices he had render'd her, and the thousand rigours of Terentia, which excited indignation in him, gratitude carri∣ed him at that instant above his love: Insomuch, that out of generosity he leapt into the water, and went to succour Aurelisa, by whom he was lov'd, and whom he did not love. At the same time, Ae∣milius, tho he saw all imaginable dearness in Teren∣tia's eies for him, and had a thousand obligations to her, no sooner beheld Aurelisa in the water, than forgetting all he ow'd to Terentia, and all the rigours of Aurelisa, he did not deliberate between his grati∣tude and his love, but cast himself into the water as well as Theanor, to succour Aurelisa, whilst the poor Terentia was ready to perish in the sight of one Lov∣er whom she lov'd, and another who lov'd her. But to her good hap Cereontus, who was alwaies be∣liev'd incapable of love, was found to have a con∣ceal'd passion for that Lady, which he discover'd ve∣ry

opportunely to save her life: for, as you know, Madam, if he had not leapt into the water to rescue her, she had without question been drown'd. Thus, Madam, you understand the adventure of Terentia and Aurelisa, but that which is rare, is, that Teren∣tia, who found no lover to succour her, has at pre∣sent two, who pretend notwithstanding to dispute her affection; for Cereontus affirms, Theanor has no longer any right to Terentia; and Theanor main∣tains, that the excessive gratitude he had for Aureli∣sa, is a pure effect of the innocent love he has for Te∣rentia. But as for this fair Virgin, I assure you, she is to be pitied. Who ever saw (said she to me last night) a misfortune equal to mine? for is there a∣ny thing more cruel, than to see one's self deserted in a great danger, by a man that is lov'd more than all the rest of the world? and withal by another, that has sworn to me so long, that he loves me a thousand times above all the rest of the earth? As for Aurelisa, she is much more happy than I; they whom she hates, and they that hate her, save her life; but as for those whom I love, and those by whom I am lov'd, they equally abandon me; and for my last unhappiness, the insensible Cereontus comes to rescue me from death, to the end to make me better feel all the rigour of my misfortune, and to prepare also a new persecution for me. But, A∣miclea, (said she to me again) I will equally hate both him that I lov'd, and him that lov'd me; and since ingratitude has not hindred Aurelisa from being succour'd by Aemilius, I will be ingrateful to Cereon∣tus too, and, instead of giving him thanks for hav∣ing sav'd my life, I will accuse him of part of the miseries which I suffer. Yea, I will hate him too (continued she) for my weakness is the true cause of my misfortune; and, according to my present senti∣ments, I find nothing in the World but what is worthy to be hated and scorn'd. On the other side he us'd such expressions, that he could not but be piti'd. Aurelisa too complain'd she was more oblig'd than the desir'd to be. And Aemilius looks upon himself as more unhappy than before, since the services he renders do not make him lov'd the more: and Ce∣reontus also is in a strange fear, lest Terentia prove un∣just towards him. Wherefore, Madam, it lies in your prudence, and that of the Prince, to hinder such brave persons as these from quarrelling, and to seek some remedy to the unhappinesses of two Vir∣gins so amiable as Terentia and Aurelisa.

Amiclea having finisht her relation, found it was not unprofitable; for Aronces promis'd to take a particular care of those three Lovers; and the Princess of the Leontines, of the two amiable per∣sons who caus'd the unhappiness of the rest by their own. After which they went to the Chamber of the Queen of Hetruria, and Amiclea return'd to that of the two afflicted Virgins, with whom she found Thea∣nor and Aemilius, who after having deliberated a long time were at length enter'd into their Chamber, tho Terentia was unwilling to see either of them. Theanor was upon his knees before Terentia who lay upon her bed, and Aemilius stood near Aurelisa who sate leaning upon a Table. Whereupon Ami∣clea approaching to Aurelisa, without Terentia's ob∣serving it, Theanor was not at all interrupted. You see, Madam, (said he to her) an unhappy per∣son who confesses his Crime. No, no, (answer'd Terentia with a Tone sufficiently fierce): do not go about to excuse your self; you had reason to go, and succour a person by whom you are lov'd; and to abandon one that does not love you. But as for Aemilius, if you had reason, he is a Criminal; for he succour'd a person by whom he could never be lov'd, and deserted one that would have given her own life to save his. Aemilius hearing him∣self nam'd, drew near to her, and Aurelisa and Amiclea did the same, upon which there began so pathetical a conversation between these four per∣sons, whose interests together were so hard to be disintangled, that scarce ever was the like seen. Theanor appear'd very much afflicted, Aurelisa ex∣treamly perplex'd, Aemilius absolutely inrag'd, to see himself no more lov'd than before his succour∣ing Aurelisa; and Terentia so incens'd both against Theanor and Aemilius that she could not endure the sight of them. Go, (said she to them) go, un∣just persons as you are, and leave me at least the liberty to bemoan my self in quiet for my unhappi∣ness, in being lov'd by a man of such gratitude, that rather than be ungrateful to another he suf∣fer'd the person he lov'd to perish; and for a second unhappiness in loving one so ungrateful, that he had rather save her life by whom he is hated, than hers from whom he has receiv'd a thousand cour∣tesies. But, Madam, (repli'd Aemilius) if I am un∣grateful towards you, are not you so towards Thea∣nor, and is not Aurelisa the same towards me? In truth (answer'd this fair Lady) I know not whe∣ther we be ungrateful, but I know well we are ex∣tream unhappy, However it be (said Terentia) I have this advantage of my infelicity, that I owe no∣thing any longer to Theanor, and have so great cause not to love Aemilius more, that if indignation do not induce me to mistake, I am ready to hope I shall renounce my passion. As she ended these words, one came and inform'd Theanor and Aemilius that Aronces was returning to the Camp; which sum∣mons constrain'd them to go away without time to speak four words, or hear one that pleas'd them. Aronces being more sensible of the misfortunes which are caus'd by love than of any others, when he was upon the way, did not cease to speak to Theanor and Aemilius; he piti'd and comforted them, and pitti'd himself too tho without com∣fort, not having so much hope as to see a possibility of ever becoming happy. At his arrival at the Camp, he found a Council of War ready to be as∣sembled, so that it behov'd him to make truce with Love, and bestow at least part of his mind upon the cares of the army and the siege. Now the Tuscans being a superstitious people, the accident of the broken Bridge, and the interpretations of the sooth∣sayers upon it, gave occasion to several rumours a∣mong the Souldiers, some affirming that if Rome, were attaqued by force it would be taken; others on the contrary maintaining, that if the course were attempted, it would not succeed. Nevertheless, the first opinion being more generally prevalent than the other, Porsenna and Tarquin conceiv'd this belief would probably excite the Souldiers to act with greater courage. Whereupon understanding by some Spies, that it was believ'd at Rome that they had no design to storm it by force, they took up a resolution to endeavour to surprise it. Tarquin be∣ing perfectly acquainted with the strength and weakness of the City, and instructed concerning the Fortifications made there since his absence, ad∣vis'd to make the principal onset on the side that

appear'd most inaccessible (tho indeed it was not so) because it would be the least guarded. That for this purpose it was requisite to seize upon Janicu∣lum, and become Masters of the Sublician Bridge, which would afterwards be easily kept, because the Hill that was to be seiz'd on too would command it: That in the mean time no care ought to be omitted in order to such things as were necessary for the hap∣py success of the Siege, in case this design should not take effect. Accordingly Porsenna sent order for the Boats which he had provided, to come away, not only with intent to stop up the Tiber with them both above and below Rome, but also to make two Bridges with them, which might be serviceable for the communication of the several Quarters of his Army. The resolution therefore of attaquing the Hill Janiculus being taken, order was given for the Forces design'd for the attempt to be in readiness to march at the first break of Day; and for those who were to make false assaults in several contrary places to be ready also to execute what should be commanded them, and likewise for all the rest of the Army to be in arms. Aronces was the man to whom this bold enterprise was encharged, Titus was com∣manded to back him, Porsenna and Tarquin remaining in the Camp to give orders according to occasion, and Sextus was intrusted with the care of the false assaults. Nevertheless he was desirous to be in the most dangerous place of all; but Tarquin knowing how violently he was hated by the Romans, conceiv'd if they should know him during the fight, it would make them become the more valiant. This design having more need of Foot than Horse, because it be∣hov'd them to seize on a Pass, the access to which was difficult. Aronces put himself on foot at the head of the Forces intended for it, and a Horse was led by, for him to make use of, when he shall see it convenient. There was this difficulty in the thing, that the attaque could not be begun till it was day; because the Souldiers being to pass through rough and intricate places, would have molested one ano∣ther, if they had gone in the dark without see∣ing their way. But not to lose time, Aronces marcht away in the head of his Forces as soon as the first appearance of day light. The Cavalry kept themselves on both sides of them, either to with∣stand such as might come out of Rome by the Sublician Bridge, where the Hill Janiculus was attaqued, or to oppose such as might come from the Hill by any o∣ther side. Titus kept in readiness to back Aronces, if there were need of it; and Aronces prepar'd him∣self to shew the Friends he had in Rome, and the E∣nemies he had in the Camp, that he deserv'd all the glory he had acquir'd in so many several occasions as he was present in. Telanus, Aemylius, Theanor, Lu∣cilius and Cesonius, brothers to the generous Melintha, and all the other brave persons of the Army fought near Aronces, whose mind was then very much im∣ploy'd, not onely with the care of coming off hand∣somely in this great enterprise, but also with the passion he had in his breast. For he was now be∣ginning to draw his sword against Rome for whose interests he had gain'd a Battle, and he was going to see the house of Clelius, if his attempt succeeded; for it stood at the end of the City, on the side of the Hill Janiculus. He had indeed the consolation of appre∣hending, that neither Clelius nor Octavius would be in this attaque, for the hill Janiculus was a kind of out-piece of the City, which in all likelihood a man of Clelius's age would not go to defend, nor was it probable Octavius's weakness occasion'd by his wounds would yet permit him to come into the field. He had likewise understood by a Spy, that Mutius was upon the guard of that place; and there∣fore knowing how couragious he was; and looking upon him as Rival to Herminius, and consequently no friend to himself, he went to this assault with a resolution to signalize himself highly in it. He fan∣ci'd also some pleasure in thinking that after the ta∣king of this Hill, he might be able to seize on the Bridge and the Gate, and that his valour might have the fair eyes of Clelia for Witnesses, it being suffici∣ently difficult for the last daring Ladies to refrain from beholding that, which nevertheless they would be willing not to see. Aronces therefore went to the fight with all the ardour of an Heroe, that would make it the interest of his Love to be courageous, to the end he might be more so. He caus'd his For∣ces to advance in so good order, that their march did not break them, tho they were necessitated to pass through a way sufficiently troublesome, and they came very near the Hill Janiculus before Mu∣tius discover'd thom; for they took a certain by way the which kept them from being taken notice of. Besides that a good thick mist being risen that morning which held for an hours space, it was not easie to discern them. 'Tis true, Mutius did not fail to send forth every night a party of Horse, to serve for a Guard to the Place he was Commander of; but Aronces took a way, by which he did not look to be assaulted. So that he was sufficiently surpris'd when he saw himself forc'd to prepare so suddenly to fight; but having an undaunted heart, he soon resolv'd upon it. However he sent forth∣with to advertise Herminius, Who kept Guard at the Gate of the Bridge, to send him aid; and ac∣cordingly Horatius in the Head of the Principal Troops of the second Legion, went to assist Mu∣tius to defend a hold of such importance. When he arriv'd, Aronces had already beaten back the E∣nemies to their first Trench; for when Porsenna's Troops advanc'd, Mutius came out in person against his Assaulters; upon which Aronces seeing an Ene∣my against him, which he could not overcome with∣out Glory, encourag'd his Souldiers with his voice example, and went directly up to him, conceiv∣ing that if they could kill him, he might then ex∣sily carry the Pass which he guarded. The fight was very sharp, and very Bloody in this place; for the example of two such valiant men so ani∣mated both parties, that if it had been possible to resist Aronces long, Mutius had not yielded to him. But this Prince being this day more redoubtable than ever, there was no means to hold out against him. Every blow that he gave was mortal, all his Orders were executed as he could have wisht, his example redoubled the Valour of his own Par∣ty, and weakened that of his enemies. Mutius himself was amaz'd at it, and soon constrain'd to abandon the first Trench, to the end he might bet∣ter defend the second. But Horatius being arriv'd in the Head of the Troop which were sent to aid Mutius, Aronces, after having first forc'd the Trench, found the number of his Enemies redoubled, but as it is the custome of those who have great hearts, for their courage to encrease when the danger is so, Aronces being follow'd by all the brave Persons that accompani'd him, charg'd his Enemies with such

vigour that they were astonish'd at it, and constrain'd to withdraw from the second entrenchment, as they had done from the first. Now altho Horatius ow'd his life to a Rival more than once, and in spight of his love was loath to be ingrateful to him, yet he did not cease to prepare himself to fight with him in this occasion, after having ralli'd and encourag'd his Forces; for the interest of Rome being contended for, and they in opposite Parties, he made no scruple of defending himself against him that attaqued him, how oblig'd soever he was to him. So he helpt Mutius to bear up against the violence of so redoubt∣able an Enemy; but tho his valour was not easily pa∣rallel'd in the World: yet that of Aronces was grea∣ter than his; for without looking whether he were follow'd or no, he still charg'd forward, and suffer'd none to stand against him. Mutius himself was wounded by Aronces, and carry'd out of the fight, tho it was not mortally. So that Horatius perceiving it would he impossible to hinder Aron∣ces from making himself Master of the Place, judg'd it more requisite to think of going to defend the Bridge, than to persist in the unprofitable main∣taining of a Post which he could not keep. Ne∣vertheless he made a great shock to beat back the Enemies: but Aronces coming up to him, brandish∣ing his sword, This is the day, Horatius, (said he to him) that we may end all our differences, and per∣haps our misfortunes. Since 'tis lawful for me (an∣swer'd Horatius fiercely) to fight against all Ene∣mies of Rome whatsoever, I am willing that we de∣termine all our quarrels with our swords. In speak∣ing of this, these two valiant Men began to fight, which in all probability had not ended but in the death of both, if Publicola, who was advertis'd of the state of the matter had not sent order to with∣draw the Forces from the Hill Janiculus, and to take care only for the defence of the Bridge. 'Tis true this order was in a manner unprofitable; for the valour of Aronces and those who follow'd him, had already driven the Enemies to that choice. Wherefore Horatius observing the disorder of his Forces, bethought himself of retiring. Which yet he was much put to't to do. For Aronces having pass'd upon him, seis'd upon his Sword, and took it from him: but Horatius being strong, disengag'd himself from his Enemy, and drawing back towards his Souldiers to get a Sword, they enclos'd him, and shrouding him from the sight of his Rival, con∣strain'd him to obey the Orders of Publicola. Aron∣ces all fierce with his victory, sought for his ene∣my, whom he had overcome; but not finding him, he sacrific'd to his revenge, all such as dar'd to re∣sist him, and made himself absolute Master of the Hill Janiculus. After which conceiving it requi∣site to make sure of the place he had gain'd, he staid there to give necessary orders for the guard∣ing of it, and causing fresh Forces to come to seize upon the Bridge, whilst Telanus in the head of a part of the victorious Troops pursued those that retreated, with intention to begin the assault of the Bridge, and so to become Master of the Gate which Herminius guarded. But the Tuscans found this de∣sign was not so easie to execute as they had believ'd; for Horatius, being provided of another sword, stay'd at the end of the Bridge, and bore up against all the impetuofity of the Enemies. Aronces indeed was not there, but he had so many Enemies on all sides, that any other but he would never have dar'd to think of resisting. In the mean time there was a strange confusion in Rome: the affrighted People believ'd the Enemies were coming in upon them on all sides, the Women went to the Tem∣ples to supplicate to the Gods, the Old Men encou∣rag'd their Children to the defence of their Coun∣try, all such as bore Arms, went whither the Con∣suls commanded them to go: and Publicola with∣out being terrifi'd gave such orders as was necessary for the conservation of Rome. During this great Tumult, Clelia was at a window of her Closet with Valeria and Colatina, who were then at her house, and who suffer'd more than can be imagin'd; for they might propably undergo considerable losses in both parties. It was known by wounded Mutius, that Aronces was in person at the Hill Janiculus, and that the Prince Titus was there too; for his Troops advanc'd for the winning the second Trench, and Valeria seeing her dear Herminius at the guard of the Gate which was expos'd to the Enemies, thought her self every moment in danger of losing all she lov'd, as well as Clelia and Colatina. They having a true love to their Country in their hearts, pray'd the gods for the preservation of Rome: but at the same time they pray'd for those that assaulted it, and made as ar∣dent vows for Aronces and Titus, as for the liberty of their native City. No question but they judg'd it a dreadful spectacle, to see all the Mountain which lay at the end of the Sublician Bridge cover'd with Soul∣diers, who throng'd down it to back those who at∣taqu'd the Bridge, and to see the Roman Souldiers at the same time daunted with the approach of that multitude of arm'd Men, who came upon them, as to an assur'd victory, and retiring in Confusion, and entring tumultuously into the City, for all the resistance of Herminius, who endeavour'd to hinder them from it, and could not so much as cause the Gate to be shut. So that Horatius saw himself left alone, to bear up against the whole power of the Enemies. 'Tis true, Herminius and Spurius soon joyn'd them∣selves to him, and these three Lovers did prodigi∣ous things in the sight of their Mistresses. Whi∣ther flie you, Cowards as you are, (said Horatius to the Souldiers that forsook him)? do not you see, that if you abandon the defence of the Bridge, there will presently be as many Enemies, in the Palatine Hill, and the Capitol, as in the Hill Janiculus? At least (added he••) if you will not fight, break the bridge, and leave me alone to bear the shock of those Enemies, who are not terrible but because you fear them. At these words the affrighted Souldiers chose rather to break the Bridge than to fight; and accordingly they began to break down the Bridge with all the dilligence of people possess'd with fear, whilst Horatius accompani'd onely with Herminius and Spurius, sustain'd the whole power of the Ene∣mies, without other arms than their bucklers and swords. 'Tis true he appear'd with such a bold∣ness, that the fierceness wherewith he repell'd those that assaulted him, struck terrour into them, and sometimes forced them to recoil. Herminius and Spurius seconded him likewise with very great va∣lour; but at length the Bridge being almost bro∣ken, and nothing left but a small Plank to pass from one side to the other, he told Herminius and Spurius, it was time for them to retire; and accordingly these two gallant persons imagining he intended to pass over the plank as well as themselves, retir'd. But Horatius led by an Heroical ardour, fiercely

commanded the Romans to break down that Plank, and staid alone for defence of the Bridge, sometimes defying the Tuscans, and sometimes reproaching them for their injustice in protecting a Tyrant; and sometimes threatning them as fiercely, as if it had been in his power to overcome them, tho he stood alone against a whole Army. This extraordina∣ry action so amaz'd the Enemies, that for a small while they suspended the violence of their valour, not knowing almost what they were to do. But at length seeing Horatius going from side to side with his sword in his hand, to the end he might take up all the Bridge, they were so struck with shame, and enrag'd, that in an instant a storm of Arrows fal∣ling upon him, his Shield was broken all to pieces. At which moment Herminius and Spurius perceiving Horatius had not pass'd back upon the plank, offer'd to return to him; but they could not, because they, who were set to break it, having done it according to Horatius's orders, and that part of the Bridge being fallen into the Water with a great noise, all the Romans sent forth such loud cries of joy, that the Enemies withheld their fury for an instant, whilst Horatius observing Rome was in safety, lift∣ed up his eyes to Heaven and cry'd, O god of Ty∣ber, receive favourably into thy bosome, a man who has never been willing to live or die but for his Country: In saying which he leapt into the wa∣ter, and turning his face towards the windows of Clelia, which lookt out on that side, he began to swim, without forsaking his sword or his shield so shatter'd with the Enemies arrows. But tho this spe∣ctacle deserv'd only admiration, yet the Tuscan Sol∣diers looking upon Horatius, as a man, who alone had hindred them from taking Rome, began to shoot upon him such a great multitude of Arrows, that he could not have fail'd to perish, if the valiant Aronces, after having assur'd the Post which he had gain'd, had not arriv'd on Horseback upon the bank of Tyber. Where being inform'd of what had pass'd, and being not able to hinder himself from admiring his Rival, the same Prince who an hour before endeavour'd to kill him, could not suffer that so valiant a Man as he should perish after so strange a manner. Yet he wisht he could have fought with him, and advanc'd towards the River for the pur∣pose; but Horatius was already so near the other side of the Tyber, that he could not come at him. Wherefore not being able to overcome him glori∣ously, he would not that he should perish in his pre∣sence, after having done so glorious an action; and, out of unparallel'd generosity, forbad his Souldiers to shoot upon Horatius. Ah Cowards (said he to them) you ought to have overcome him with your swords, and forc'd the Bridge which he defended, and not cover him with Arrows when he can no longer defend himself. These words having stopt that clouds of Arrows which darken'd the Air, both parties beheld Horatius safely arrive at the other side of the River, and Aronces had the grief to imagine, that Clelia saw with her own eyes the great action of his Rival, and that she beheld at that instant the great honours the Romans were doing him. However there being nothing more to be done, Aronces was enforc'd to be contented with having gain'd a very advantageous place, which would extreamly inconvenience Rome, and prevent∣ed their making of Sallies, which might have much molested the Camp of the Besiegers. But tho this dayes actions were very glorious to him, in as much as he had wounded Mutius, disarm'd Horatius, and taken the Hill Janiculus, yet he was excessively af∣flicted. Not that he was capable of envy; but the Passion of Love in his breast, caus'd him to appre∣hend distasteful consequences of his Rival's glory. Accordingly the next morning he understood by a Spy, that the like honour had never been done to any other Roman since the foundation of Rome; that the Senate had decreed a Statue should be erected to Horatius at the end of the Bridge which he had defended, that Clelius was the Man that propos'd the rendring the publick testimony of gra∣titude to his valour, and that at the dissolving of the Senate, the same Clelius had carried Horatius to Sulspitia and Clelia. Dispatch, Fortune, dispatch, (said Aronces in himself, as soon as he had opportu∣nity to be alone) render me the most unhappy of all men, by wholly depriving me of hope and possibi∣lity of ever to become happy. For what ground is there to retain the least hope after that which is arriv'd? Clelia hath seen my Rival with her own eyes, doing the greatest action that ever was, and perhaps too she believes I was among those he fought with at the end of the Bridge, and puts me in the number of those that could not overcome him. But, alas! tho this should not be so, yet Clelius will make use of Horatius's valour against me: for what can be refus'd to him, that has preserv'd Rome? Therefore I must resolve to see Clelia unfaithful, or Clelia persecuted; and consequently I must prepare my self to be alwayes miserable.

The End of the Fourth Part of CLELIA.