The extravagant shepherd, the anti-romance, or, The history of the shepherd Lysis translated out of French.

THE Anti-Romance; OR, THE HISTORY Of the SHEPHERD LYSIS. (Book 6)

The Sixth Book. (Book 6)

THe most illustrious of all Shepherds feeding his Flock among the Snail-claver and the three-leav'd grass, walked on him∣self very stayedly, as it had been a man taken up with some high thoughts; and gravely lifted up his sheephook at every step, as a Spanish Pilgrim doth his staff. He had not gone a quarter of a league, but there pass'd by a Coach, out of which alighted Hircan, Anselme, Clarimond, and Montenor, all in their ordinary cloaths. Embracing them all one after another, My friends, says he to them, you see I have suffered a second Metamorphosis; I now salute you in the quality of a Shepherd: there is Hircan, who hath made me reassume my pristine form. We are as glad of this, says Anselme, as we were sorry to have lost you. But what do you think of it? are you of our opinion? All I can say, replies Lysis, is, that I must have patience in spight of my teeth. It's true, I had much pleasure when I was a Tree: but if it be decreed I should be so no more, I must resolve to submit: I suffer nothing now which I have not already tryed; besides that I am to consider, that to shew my self a faithful Lover, I must not be troubled for having the means continued me to serve Charite. Your constancie is commendable, my friend, says Hircan; and you are to know that before you were made Man again, I had much ado to get up into heaven and search the Records of Fate, who is Jupiter's principal Clark; there I learn'd

what should become of you for the future, lest I might have undertaken somewhat contrary to those decrees. It seems Lysis is much oblig'd to Hircan, says Clarimond: but Shepherd, if I may be so bold, what's become of your servant Carmelin? Alas! now I think on't, says Lysis, I doubt the Nymphs have gotten him away. He was with me the last night among those of the Divine company, whom he charm'd with his eloquence, They made me believe that they had a design to bathe him for purification-sake, but would not suffer me to be present: so that now I am confi∣dent they had some ill design, for he hath not yet been at his lodging. The Nymphs have many nobler servants then he, says Clarimond: It may be that, since he left them, some wilde beast hath devour'd him. Alas! it may be thou first the nail on the head, cries out Lysis; hath not some Wolf broke his fast on my faithful Carmelin? How have my thoughts been taken up till now, that I have not look'd after him? Let us now do it; 'tis fit we had a care of him, his loss would be very considerable.

Having so said, he cross'd the fields up and down, and all the rest follow'd him: He cry'd out as loud as he could, Carmelin, Carmelin, where art thou? my Friend, my Minion, my Delight, my Love. And seeing he answered not; Questionless, saies he, he is dead: we must provide for his Monument, and his Funeral Oration. Lysis at length came to the brook of Lucida, and as he walk'd along it, renew'd his crying, Where art thou Carmelin? and presently he heard a voyce, saying, Here I am my dear Master; have compassion on the most miserable Shepherd that lives. Upon that he doubles his pace, and findes the poor Carmelin half naked tied to a tree. Who hath fastened thee there, my Friend? says he to him. What sa∣vage people have thus affronted so sweet a disposition? No other but your Imps hereabout, that have dragg'd me into their Crocks, replies Carmelin. Thy mean∣ing is, replies Lysis, that the Nymphs and the Cypress have carried thee into their Grots. Very right, saies Carmelin; the Devil take their Dances, their Sports and their Collations, if a man must buy the sight of them with so much mischief as they have done me. Thou may'st haply be mistaken in them, saies Lysis. I am not, saies Carmelin, they were the very same, let me be untyed, and I'll tell you more. Where∣upon Hircan, who carried a knife in his sword scabbard, cut the mischievous garters wherewith they had tyed him. When he had gotten his cloathes on, he related what had hapned to him, whereat every one extreamly wondred; for the Nymphs were not accounted so mischievous as he made them. But Lysis interrupting his story came and said to him, Be not troubled, the mischief is past; and in recompence thereof, I'll tell thee what thou shalt be very glad of. Know then, what came not yet into my minde to tell thee, I am no tree, I am the Shepherd Lysis: My vexa∣tion hath also hindered me to inform my self of it, replies Carmelin, yet I some∣what suspected you had chang'd nature. Fair weather after it; let's forget what is past, seeing you will have it so, But above all things, let me not be entreated to come any more among those fine Dames I saw last night, it may be they are evil spirits. I desire not to have any thing to do with people of the other world.

Carmelin having so said, was ready to go with the rest, but that he wanted his hat. The Nymphs had not left it with his cloathes; after they had plaid with it a good while, they had cast it into the bryars, far from that place, where they were sure he would not look for it. Let's go however, saies Clarimond, I'll give you another. Nay, it shall not be so, saies Carmelin, I cannot endure to be affronted out of any thing: should you give me as many hats as would reach from earth to heaven: I would not lose my own. You need no more but summon the Lady-Nymphs before the Magistrate of the place, saies Anselme. Do so and fear not, saies Clari∣mond; see there's a sergeant goes on the road, let's speak to him.

That said, they put forward, and Carmelin having overtaken the man, who in∣deed was a Catchpole. My good friend, saies he to him, there are certain indiscreet Ladies have taken my hat from me, without any reason: Have I not a good action against them? That you have without question friend, replies the Catchpole: give me their names and dwellings, I'll summon them. I must first acquaint my

Master with it, saies Carmelin. She that must have committed the Felony, is called Lucida, saies Lysis; as for her dwelling, it is in the source of a Fountain hard by; but she is hidden within it so, that thou wilt never finde her poor mortal Serjeant: For this Arrest there is requisite a celestial Serjeant, such as Mercury: As for her companions who have been Accessaries in the Felony, they are fast in the barks of trees: where wouldst thou finde all these? For thy part Carmelin, let fall thy suit; thou'lt get nothing by quarrelling with stronger then thy self. The Nymphs ac∣knowledge not Terrestrial Judges; or if they submit to them they corrupt them, as they did the Son of Priamus.

The Catchpole went his way with this discourse, thinking they either had been some that would abuse him; or that somewhat was amiss in their mindes: In both which cases there was nothing to be gotten of them, since he understood not what they said. Carmelin being much troubled that he could have no satisfaction of those felons; began to cry out. Alack! poor hat, must I needs lose thee in the flower of thine age and beauty? 'Tis very true, thou didst my Grandfather service and credit at his first wedding; but thou mightst have a long time serv'd my posterity. Ah! how I grieve for thee, when I remember thou hast been for so long a time the faith∣ful covering of those cares and thoughts that were forg'd in my head, and the no∣ble tabernacle of my Doctrine. Do not weep for't, saies Anselme, its hour was come. 'Twere to no purpose to erect a Monument for it, as we should have done for you, when we gave you for lost. Besides, why will you not be comforted, since you are promis'd a better? Carmelin having recollected himself a little, resumes the dis∣course thus, But that hat, what shall it be made of, Master, Fine Wool? He had not the seasure to finish what he intended to have said; nor had Anselme the time to answer him, for they all broke out into laughter; especially Montenor, who knew that Anselme by the Fathers side came of a race of Merchants, and that Cloath and Wool had been the foundation of his Nobility. Lysis desirous to end the laughter: The error was, saies he, for want of a Comma or Parenthesis in the Period. Hear'st thou Carmelin? observe it, that thy transposition be not deficient.

The discourse of the Master was thought as pleasant as that of his man, because his words came out with a certain accent, that gave them great weight. Carmelin himself was pleas'd with it: but when Clarimond was come home, he made him a much more joyful man, by giving him the hat he had promis'd him, which was better then his own, though not much. They told him, that if he esteemed pieces of Antiquity, that was a thing worthy as fair a Cabinet as any medal in the world. He was almost out of himself for joy; for if he grieved for the other hat, 'twas only because he had no great hope of this. Notwithstanding all this, he goes to his Master, to desire him to describe unto him by name and cloathes all the Rural Deities, that so he might know who had done him the most mischief. It was con∣cluded, that it was the Hamadryads and Lucida, but as for Synopa, she had not given him one stroke, nay, stood at a distance, all the while he suffered the lash. O! what a great mystery is there hidden under that, says Lysis to him; thou hast ground to believe that Synopa is of a very amorous disposition: she hath discover'd her passion for me, but perceiving that I always disdain'd her, she will henceforward adore no merit but thine. I did much inspect it, and it is my opinion, she never look'd on thee as an indifferent person; so that now I will shew thee how I intend to bring thee quite out of this trouble! Put the case it was she committed the Fe∣lony on thy hat, thou must imagine it was for no other reason but to keep it instead of a favour. I remember Charite took away one of my shoes upon the same ac∣count. I know not what love you mean, replies Carmelin: why did she not assist me then? speak no more of her; I do not like her humour. If I must have a Mi∣stress; be it that Shepherdess whom you spoke to me of heretofore. Charite hath a companion called Jacquelina, saies Lysis; I meant her. Thou shouldst love her, were there no other reason but because she hath a fine name, and because thou canst make a very quaint allusion thereon; saying she is called Jacquelina, because she is as 'twere a Javelin, wherewith love strikes hearts through. Besides, when thy History

shall be written, it will be a handsom title for it, The Loves of Carmelin and Jaque∣lina. There is a sympathie between the two names, as there is a conjunction be∣tween your two hearts; and when I have any leisure, I promise thee to find out some fortunate Anagram upon it.

While he said this, he heard Anselme proposing to Clarimond a visit in the after∣noon to Leonora. Take heart! all goes with us, says he to Carmelin: Here thou hast an occasion to see thy new Mistress; but thou must not go thither unprepared: thou speak'st a many good things, but they are not always to the purpose, and be∣sides thou dost not pronounce well. I will teach thee the method of discourse, and the graces of gesture and pronunciation.

This was spoken very softly; and immediately after our two Shepherds went in∣to a little chamber on one side of the hall, where Lysis being seated in a chair, and Carmelin standing before him, he gave him his first lesson. Seeing it is of much con∣sequence in Love to have a pleasing way of access, and that the countenance hath sometimes more charms then the words, thou must be very carefull and observant of thine, when thou art before thy Shepherdess. If thou hast a clean handkerchiff about thee, 'tis my advice thou have it always in thy hand; those that declaim ever have one, nay the very Players at Paris are not without one on the Stage. Now these are they thou must imitate; for if they do not things as they are done, they do them at least as they should be. Nor were it amiss to have a little neat Beard∣brush to turn up the Muschato now and then: But above all, a man never ought to be without a Comb in his pocket, I mean these Horn-combs that your present Gal∣lants carry about them to comb out their hair. You desire (it seems) I should never have my head without horns, says Carmelin. Take it not in that sense, says Lysis, it may happen to thee: I have one of those Combs at Montenor's; and I tell those that see me make use of it, that it is made of the horns of those I have made cuckolds, and thus the jest must be retorted back. This I grant you, says Carmelin: but to what purpose must I ever have a handkerchiff in my hand? I may be taken for some Snottypack; and the Brush in like manner would denote the foulness of my Beard, since it required so frequent brushing. If thou wilt not observe these nice∣ties, be sure thou hast excellent discourses, and use the most insinuating forms of speaking, and the most approved by the Gallants. As for example, if thou wouldst say, that thou comest out of the company of men that were in a good humour, thou must say, I have left the conversation of some faces of good humours. Men do not speak only to faces, says Carmelin, but to perfect men. It matters not, says Lysis, that's the manner of speaking, if a man will go according to the mode: And 'tis said every foot, How long is't since you saw that face? That face would have quar∣rel'd with me: 'Tis a very proper, neat speech. Moreover if some would carry thee to a place whither thou wouldst not go, thou must say, I am your humble servant as to that house: I am an humble servant to that visit, that is to say, I am not for it. And if they should tell thee it were to hear good musick, thou must answer, I kiss your hands as to musick this day. If it be ask'd whether thou play'st well on the Lute, I break not my head with Crotchets, nor prick my self to play on that Instrument. I should willingly speak in that manner, says Carmelin, yet I apprehend not what it signifies; For must a man prick himself in the breech with a pin or an awl, to stir him up to play on the Lute? And as for your Kiss your hands, and Your humble ser∣vants, may they be said to a House, or to Musick, which have no hands, and care not for our services? All this is spoken, and is very elegant, replies Lysis; you hear nothing else in the Louure, and in all other Courtly places. If thou hast overreach'd any one, or put a handsom gull upon him, thou must say, I have plaid him an excellent piece; for that's now all the phrase. The pieces you will have me play, says Carmelin, shall they be Tragicomedies or Pastorals, or shall they be some Pieces to be plaid on the Lute? That were not amiss, if thou couldst do it, says Lysis: Yet I take not these things in that sense, I mean the playing of some fourbe or over-reaching trick in a company; and there's as much subtilty required to do that, as to play a piece on the Stage. But to return to our Phrases, there are yet others as exquisite and

curious as these; but I shall teach thee no more at present, then that thou must say at every word, that thy Mistress is a ravishing treature. That's very proper to be said of Synopa, replies Carmelin; she takes whatever's in her way, she hath ravish'd away my old Hat; she is as ravishing as a Bird of prey, or a Wolf. 'Tis not to be taken in that bias, says Lysis: When a Beauty is said to be ravishing, the meaning is, that it is full of charms, allurements, and attractions; and if thou please, thou mayst say that thy Shepherdess hath a ravishing countenance. Thou mayst make thy advantage of these French phrases, according as occasion shall require; and thou art to represent to thy self, that there is not in Paris any despicable Fellow that pretends to the qualities of a Gentleman, no nor any contemptible Cockney-bastard, but hath them, when he is to put his best side outward. 'Tis not to be wondred at that I should know all this; for though I was ever very studious, yet at certain times I kept good company, and this was the manner of speaking among the Gal∣lantillo's; if thou wilt have the reputation of a Carpet-Knight, thou must imitate those words.

Carmelin, without any further contestation, fell to ruminate on his instructions; and Lysis having gotten pen and ink, thought fit to give him some amorous dis∣course in writing, besides this language a-la-mode wherewith he entertain'd him, which was only for familiar discourses. He therefore dress'd him a fine Complement; and having given it him, bid him learn it by heart. I shall have it presently, replies he after he had seen it, for I have read it in some book heretofore. It's never the worse for that, replies Lysis: Novices in Love, as thou art, must follow the Books in all things. Let's see if thou hast a good memory. There are but three periods; tell me the first, and imagine thou wert speaking to thy Mistress. Whereupon Carmelin without any previous ceremony began thus. Fair Shepherdesse! since a fortunate lot hath brought me hither, and that your eyes give me no wound but such as are dele∣ctable to me, I must needs avow it to you, that I am surpris'd by those attractions, which, notwithstanding all resistance, I shall be sure to suffer under. 'Tis very well, says Lysis, thou hast not mist a syllable; but yet I observed thou hadst a corner of thy eye in the paper; besides there is somwhat in it more then speaking, the action is all in all: In the first place put off thy hat, then make a conge a-la-mode, carry thy eyes languishingly; and moving thy right hand as it were in measure, put the fore∣finger to the thumb, as the Orators do in their declamations.

In so saying Lysis shewed him all those gestures, and Carmelin imitated them the best he could: But his master told him he must speak at the same time; so that he began anew thus. Fair Shepherdess! since an unfortunate Sot hath brought me hi∣ther, and that your eyes give me no wounds but such as are detestable to me, I must vow to you that I am so surprised with your detractions, that in spight of all assistance I shall suffer under them. I know not how Lysis had the patience to hear out his discourse without beating him. At last he cries out, Great ass! what an imperti∣nence hast thou spoken? thou hast made more faults then thou hast pronounced words: 'Twould make good sport to hear thee say so to thy Mistress. What will you have me do, Master? replies Carmelin: The fear of missing causes me to make so many faults; and I so much study the grace of the gesture, that I forget the discourse: the likeness of the words makes me take one for another.

Lysis bid him study it longer, and he afterwards repeated it again: He was not much out as to the words; but for countenance, he observ'd none at all; and was all the time in such an unhandsom posture, that his Master chid him still. There's the misfortune, says Carmelin; when I think on the words, I forget the grace: But let's begin again; I'll repeat it so often, that I will not miss any thing. So he began a∣gain; but he was much out in the discourse, and there was still somwhat amiss in him: For when he studied the action, he forgot the words; and when he studied the words, he forgot the action. So that Lysis seeing his labour lost, bid him be∣think him of a Complement to his Mistress according to his own fancie, seeing it was but time lost to shew him any thing. Anselme, who was in the hall, had overheard part of the Dialogue at the chamber-door, which he thought very pleasant, at

length he enters the room, as Lysis was saying to Carmelin, that he wonder'd how he could remember the discourses he knew on several subjects, seeing it was such a task to him to overcome seven or eight common words. What I have hath cost me much pains, replies Carmelin; and not to dissemble with you, I tell you it hath been beaten into my head as 'twere with mallets: I must have a moneth to learn a line; but in recompence, when it is once in my head, 'tis as sure as the scurf that's insepa∣rable from it. No, no, thou art an ignorant Fellow, says Lysis, I have been much deceiv'd in thee. Pardon him for this time, says Anselme, he'll learn better another: There are some dayes that our memories are asleep, and that our mind executes not its functions freely. I shall take it so for your sake, replies Lysis; perhaps the vexations he hath gone through, have offuscated his understanding. We must hence∣forward conceive he will be another man then what he hath been; for to be in love, is an advantagious means to become learned. I have read in a certain book, that Love is Master of all Arts; and I know by experience that it purifies the mind ex∣treamly. 'Tis very true, says Lysis: but if you desire the reputation of learned, ne∣ver bring an authority without quoting it. I am content, says Anselme: who as he had a very good memory, recited a discourse to that purpose which he had taken out of a late book, wherein there was so much naturalness, that all were infinitely pleas'd with it.

This discourse ended, Clarimond comes in and tels them that they must make haste to dine. There was brought from Montenor's abundance of Poultry and Fowl; so that Carmelin, whom they dispos'd at the Masters table, thought he saw the begin∣ings of those delights which Lysis had promis'd him. After dinner he was taken into the coach with the rest, whereat he was also infinitely pleased, for he had never been so honourably wasted in his life. Being come to Orontes's, the Gentlemen kiss'd the Ladies, and Lysis did the same, but he durst not kiss Charite, because the rest had not kiss'd her, and that in this case he would not go beyond their example. It was not their custom to kiss Chambermrids, and the Shepherd much wonder'd at it: But if they had done it, and that he had done the like, the favour he should have obtained would have been accompanied with a regret to see others receive the like. While he was thus taken up, Hircan related his metamorphosis, and how he had restor'd him to his former shape. That gave Angelica occasion to put a many que∣stions to Lysis; and among others, she ask'd him whether the Trees led a pleasant life, or no. For my part, answers he, I assure you I was not weary of it; nor fear'd I any thing but lest Carmelin should cut down some of my boughs to make Chairs of, for he hath sometimes been a Joyner: And accordingly I should have given him notice, that if there were an extreme necessity to take away some bough from me, it might not be employed otherwise then to make my Mistress a Cup∣board.

After that Lysis had related in what manner he had entertained this Carmelin into his service, and how that he hoped to make him as honest a Shepherd as any in France, he bid him draw neer; and Orontes having view'd him well, swore he knew that face, that he had seen it somwhere, and that he thought it might be at Troyes. It may be you take him for Paris who was the Judge of the three Goddesses, and think he is a Trojan, says Lysis: but he is not, he told me he was of Lyons, which was some reason that I made him my companion; believing that Lyons being neer Forrests, there might come good Shepherds thence. I do not mean great Troy, replies Orontes, I speak of Troy in Champaigne: And seeing we are so far engag'd in the discourse, I'll tell you what I know of him. Being about a year since in that City, I went to a Stationers to enquire for a certain book I wanted: While I was speaking with him in the shop, I heard a voyce from an upper-chamber, that said, Master, I am come to the moneth of August, what shall I put down? Warm rains, answers the Stationer. I thereupon look'd up, and through a little trap-door per∣ceiv'd somwhat of a man: I thought I should have seen the Gods talking from their several heavens; as if Mars ask'd the Sun what weather it should be, and how he should direct his course. I went up to see who it was that had spoken, and it was

this brave Carmelin, who help'd the Stationer to make an Almanack: I leave it to be considered if it must not be well done, since it was their invention, and that the predictions came out their brains. I do not deny that I have liv'd with that Stati∣oner, not knowing what to do, says Carmelin: but you are to take notice that he hath rais'd him a good fortune by his Almanacks, and therefore he is not to be de∣rided. When he married, he was so poor, that the Priest being come to bestow a benediction on his bed, found none in the chamber. Father! says the woman, cast some Holy-water in this corner, we shall have anon a bundle of straw. But since that time they have done very well; and had it not been my desire to see the Coun∣try, that made me leave them, I might haply have advanc'd my self as well as they. 'Tis true, I have heard say that now they are fallen into the same posture again; yet I am assured they make a shift to keep house together, but that they sell away by peeces what's left. It seems we shall find it at last the high-way to the Hospital, to live with such people, (says Florida, laughing at these pleasant passages:) You have now met with a better Master; and I believe, since he knows you to be expert in making Almanacks, he will employ you to calculate his Nativity. Believe it not, fair Lady! replies Lysis: I am not born either under the Signs of Cancer or Capricorn; I am born under that of Charite's Eyes, whose influences I know better then any Astrologer: Those two bright Stars which are posited in the Heaven of her Coun∣tenance, are a new Gemini, better then that in the Zodiake, and was never yet ob∣served by the Speculators of the Second causes. How can you be born under the Sign of Charite's Eyes, replies Florida, since she is younger then you? That's your mistake, replies Lysis: As Charite is immortal, and shall never know end, so never had she beginning; and thought it be but nineteen or twenty years that she hath been on earth, yet she was before in the heavens. I am very sorry such a fair Lady as you are, should be ignorant of any thing she should know.

While he was taken up in this discourse, Hircan had done relating to the rest what had happened between the Shepherd and the rural Deities, repeating the very stories they had told him word for word. So that Lysis turning towards him, says, And who, prethee, hath told thee all these particulars? But 'tis true, thou art a Magician, and there is nothing in the world hidden from thee. But 'tis to no pur∣pose, replies Angelica, we believe nothing of all he says: Who could believe there were any Nymphs of the woods & waters? I have often been in the fields, and have sometimes been in the water, but could never meet with either of them. What, will you also declare your want of learning! says Lysis: Know then that the Gods ap∣pear not to mortals because of their sins; and that it is not now as it was in the first Age, wherein Innocencie reign'd, and that they appeared openly, and in a manner liv'd and conversed with us. But for the good of mankind, I have an incomparable design for to recover the lost felicity. Hearken therefore all you that are present, and I would to god I might be heard to the four quarters of the earth what I am going to tell you! And that is, that I have undertaken to reduce the Golden Age. There are a many who would advise the King in some things that might be for the peace of the people, but there is no advice neer mine: Seeing Charite is come to live in Brie, there by my means shall the celestial benediction be first poured out: All shall live after my example; and the Gods observing the purity of our souls, shall banish hence all those evils that Pandora hath sown here: it shall be always fair weather; we shall have the fruits of the Earth, without manuring it; all Rocks shall be full of Pearls and precious stones; there shall be no place so desart, where there shall not be sets of Thyme and Marjerom; Brooks of wine and milk shall run through the meadows; our Rams shall have horns of Diamant, and our Sheep have fleeces of fine Silk of all colours.

This discourse of Lysis was heard with great silence; only Clarimond at the end broke out into a laughter. What do you laugh at? says the Shepherd to him. What should I laugh at, but your self? replies Clarimond: You, and the rest of your profession, the Poets, are all Fools with your Golden Age: Granting it were not a Fable, you speak such things of it, as, if they were true, would not make it so delight∣full

as that wherein we live. Is not the year more pleasant having four seasons, then if it had but one, as the Spring or Autumn? And if there were none but precious stones, would not that be a great inconvenience? As for your brooks of milk and wine, they are sufficiently ridiculous; for whence should they take their Springs? must we milk all the kine in the Country, and let out all the tuns of wine in one place, that so we might have rivers? and would you have no water at all? Are there not many things wherein it is useful? I see no reason but you may as well promise us Moun∣tains of fresh butter, and green cheese; Rocks of Sugar-candy: that we might catch Larks ready roasted; that there should be places where it should rain Sweet-meats and Confects; and Trees, whereon should grow cloathes ready made. These accommo∣dations are fit for a Country, whose inhabitants love to have things done to their hands.

Clarimond had lost Lysis's favor by this discourse, had he not in the beginning call'd him a Poet, whereat he was so satisfied, that he thought not on the rest. He was so well pleas'd to be ranked among those honorable persons, that he bit his lips again, and his skin grew almost too narrow to contain him. Anselme spake to Clarimond for him, and shew'd him his error in blaming the delicacies of an age that all men regretted. Thereupon turning to the Shepherd, he askes him, by what means he thought to accomplish his noble designs? What have I else to do but to perswade all my friends to become Shepherds, as I am, replies Lysis? 'Tis true, you and Montenor have already denied me; and as for Clarimond, he seems not to be much enclined to it. However, I shall not want companions, there are at present a many good wits in France. I'll furnish you with an excellent invention, saies Cla∣rimond, you must address your self to the Poets, and makers of Romances, who are now in Paris: They are those that speak of Shepherds, and are oblig'd to be such, thereby to effectuate the rare things, wherewith they have filled their books, or else we must take them for fools and madmen. That I was thinking on, says Lysis, I cannot finde any people fitter for my purpose. And the more easiely to draw them in, I promise them all their first Shepherds cloathes.

That's the way indeed to oblige them, says Clarimond, for they would not only turn Shepherds, but Turks if need were for a suit of cloathes. They have ever been a sort of wretches; and to begin with their Prince Orpheus, he was so beggarly, that the very day of his wedding he had not wherewithal to give his wife a pair of shoes; so that as she danc'd barefoot in a meadow, a Serpent stung her in the heel, where∣of she dyed. There was never any since that made verses, but hath been poor, or had a desire to be so. I know means to inrich all those that are of that noble quali∣ty, replies Lysis: I shall require nothing of them but their obedience. Now as soon as they shall come to me, I shall presently propose unto them the Institutions of an Amorous and Pastoral Republique: I will found an Vniversity, whereof they shall be the Heads and Professors. The most able man among them shall be the Vice-Chancellor, and there shall be nothing read to the Students, but Poets and Romances. They shall learn Ovids Epistles, Diana, Astrea, and they shall do exercises, and take degrees in love, instead of doing it in the Law, as at Orleance. Yong men and maids shall go pell mell to this School, and there shall thenceforth be banish'd from among us all ignorance and incivility. Upon this, Carmelin comes and saies to him, Master, give me leave to tell you, that for to get the more Scholars, it were not amiss to put up Bills all about Paris. He that hath taught me so much learning, us'd this sub∣tilty, & was so afraid I should pass by some place when I posted them, that he visited the streets ends, to see if they were bestow'd in eminent places. Sometimes he stood by to watch them, and if there came a mischievous Lacquay by, that had an itch to tear them off, he would be sure to get a good rap over the pate for his pains. One time, without heeding much what I did, I pasted up one the clean contrary way, so that a man that would have read it, must have gone and looked out at the Chamber window that was above: That angred him so, that he never wished me well since. All men are equally desirous to propagate their fame, saies Lysis; and I assure thee, that I have heard say, that one of our most Famous Authors, who is so rich that he

needs not go a foot, was in the same manner well pleas'd to see his name at every corner, and rode on horse-back up and down Paris to see it on the day he had a Book to come out. Thou understandest this business very well, replies Lysis, and I will follow thy advice, but not altogether as thou conceivest: for it is no mercenary expectation makes me do any thing. Since the City of Paris is a place, where there are a many people of quality and honesty, and that I am not generally known of all, I will send thither to have some Bills printed, and pasted up and down, which shall speak somewhat to this purpose:

To all that pass by.

THis is to acquaint all whom it concerns, That in the Pro∣vince of Brie, there is a Shepherd called Lysis, who teaches the Arts of Love and Shepherdry, without demanding any money or other recompence: And that all per∣sons, of what condition soever they be, shall be entertained by him at the foresaid place; and to shew the perfection of his Knowledge, he will teach them how to live without any care or pains, reducing among them the Golden-age.

He lodges at Bertrands a Vine-dresserner Clarimonds Castle.

O how handsom will this appear under that of the Players, they being both to the same purpose, says Clarimond: There cannot many escape the baits of your pro∣mises, and you will have more Disciples them ever Aristotle had. But your must be∣ware that the credulous and simple people take you not for a Mountebank, like the Jew who was burnt a while since, that in his publike Bills promis'd his Schollers Golden Mountains, but at his lodging entertain'd them with nothing but vain and pernicious Lectures. Or I should rather fear, that your Bills would be thought like those of the Fryers of Rosecroix, who spoke all Languages, and deliver'd men from Errors and Death. As for those Doctors, 'tis well remembred, saies Lysis; being informed that they never fail'd to come to those who would speak with them, I have gone out purposely divers times for to meet with them, and have expected them every where. If I heard some uncertain noise, I thought it was one of them; and though I saw no body, yet I went on still in my interrogations; because it was re∣ported, that they became invisible. You are not alone deceiv'd in this case, saies Orontes, but I'll tell you a thing, which I wish all France knew for its deliverance from these false opinions. Being once engag'd in a debauch at Paris, with seven or eight of my friends, one of them, to finde the world talk, went and writ the Placard of the Fryers of the Rosecroix, who have made so much noise in the world, and posted it up at the corner of a street in the dark. Judge now whether this folly was not a worthy employment for so many famous writers. A great piece of news in∣deed, saies Lysis; but if it be granted that the Fraternity of our learned Invisibles be but an imaginary thing, I cannot choose but be sorry for it; for what rare things might a man do if he were of their sect. A man might visit his Mistress in spight of Friends and Rivals. Trouble not your self for that, replies Clarimond: The Poets whom you endeavour to imitate, promise as strange things as those unknown Philosophers. They speak altogether by miracles and Metamorphoses. You would do me a favour to bring them hither, for I have some things of no small consequence to tell them. Alas! what quarrel have you with them? says Lysis; know you not, replies Clarimond, that before a man enters into a sect or profession of Religion, he confers with the Philosophers or the Ministers? in like manner, before I turn Shepherd, I would speak with those Soveraign Masters of this Art, that I might be convinc'd as to certain scruples which trouble my minde. But perhaps you'll tell me

you are as able as they to solve all arguments; but you are not, you are but their disciple, and I cannot be satisfied with what you might alledge. Tell me at least in few words, what you could object against those excellent ingenuities, replies Lysis. I shall freely do't, says Clarimond: And to begin with the ancient Poets, I main∣tain, as I have done before, that all their Fables are full of most ridiculous absurdi∣ties; they have invented a thousand fopperies, according to the customs of the Ages they lived in. If their times had been like ours, and had had the advantages of so many inventions as we have, and that their Works were now to be compos'd, A∣pollo, in stead of playing on the Harp, should play on the Lute; and in stead of kil∣ling the Serpent Python with arrows, he should have done it with a musket. Cupid, in stead of his equipage of a bow and quiver, should be accommodated with a Case of Pistols. Were I to have my mind, in stead of a torch he should have a Fools bable in his hand, for all his heat is but a foolish imagination. As for the Sun, in stead of riding in a chariot, he should ride in a coach, or haply he should be dispos'd into a wheelbarrow: But the imagination were yet more excellent, if it were supposed that that Luminous globe which lights us, were one of the wheels of it. As for Sa∣turn, who is very slow of motion, he should be carried in a Sedan, like an old man that were sick of the Gout. In the same manner should all the rest of the Gods be accoutred; and I am troubled with a little itch to reform all their fables, that so they might be a la mode, and that people might understand somwhat out of them.

Having shewed you the folly of the ancient Poets, I am now to speak of that of our modern ones. They conceit themselves very learned, if they discover but a touch or allusion to some ancient fable; and in their Romances they think they appear very able men, if they can but bring in the Ceremonies, Sacrifices, and Religion of the false Gods. The relation of the terrors of barbarous Nations, is it not an excel∣lent ornament to a Book, and have we not great necessity to burthen our minds with the knowledge of them? Why may we not as well have Romances of all the false Re∣ligions of the Indies? Yet want there not at this present a many able Wits, that suf∣fer themselves to be carried away with the torrent of this inconsideracie; and like as sheep cast themselves down where they have seen others to fall before, so they think themselves excused if they erre by imitation, never tasking themselves with any serious inquisition into things; and cannot write three lines, but they talk as confidently of Jupiter and Mars, as if we lived in the time of Augustus. Besides these, there are other extravagances in Romances, which I shall more particularly sift out in a Censure I intend of them.

As for the sneaking Poems which we are furnish'd with by those who have not so much strength of spirit as to undertake any thing that requires a longer breath, and bestow three moneths on a Sonnet, O God! can there be any thing in the world more unprofitable, or more contemptible? Those who make it their business, are they not much in the right, to think that a flat dull discourse becomes very excel∣lent, if it can but be put in verse? And can they imagine that Rhiming, which is not only a vice in our Prose, but also even in Latine Verses, is so much to be esteemed, that they must presently deserve Crowns of Laurel for having been a little fortunate therein? But indeed Rhiming is nought else but a barbarous ornament of corrupt and imperfect Languages; and I durst maintain, it is the greatest argument in the world of a low and cowardly mind, to spend a whole life in filing and licking of Verses. Besides, the present Authors betray so little capacity, that if by a solemn Edict it were forbidden them to use the words Fate, Chance, Charms, Smiles, Beau∣ty, Love, and some others, which must not fail to serve any where, though there be no need, unless it be to make up the measure and to rime, I would forfeit my life if they could ever make Ode or Sonnet. And if ever they betray any sharpness or in∣genuity, 'tis but an Antithesis, which had been used a hundred thousand times be∣fore; as it may be somwhat about Roses and Thorns, Fire and Ice, Night and Day, the Sun and Stars: Or else they are sure to period with an Hyperbole. It comes not once into their imagination, that Poetry ought to have other ornaments then these; for they think it a matter of reputation never to have read any good book, which

haply would have made them more capable: And if their invention be delivered of any thing above common, it is some rugged imagination which the Clown in the Play would have been asham'd to have said, nay, and would blush at it, were't not that his face is powdered. And this is part of what I should represent unto them; and when they shall learn what remains, there will be a necessity they should defend them∣selves, and convince me of some opinions, if they desire I should enter into their Caballe.

As soon as Clarimond had here ended his discourse, Lysis told him that those he challeng'd were able enough to answer him, and that they would do it when they were come into Brie as he expected; but that which he most doubted was, that they were so enchanted with the pleasures of the Court, that they could by no means leave it. Banish that belief out of your mind, replies Clarimond: 'Tis true indeed they do haunt Princes and Courts, and have not any thing else to do but as so many Spies to enquire who is newly in favour with the King, or if any one be upon mar∣riage, that they may make Verses on those occasions. But when they have given their diurnal attendance, and made their utmost advantages of these opportunities, and written on all these fine occasions, men contemn them as an unprofitable sort of people. These brave Salesmen of Praise and Fame, promise immortality, dispose Empires as they please; and as they present nothing but smoke, so are they paid in the same coin. To be short, you may be sure that after they have haunted great houses, they must take up their lodging in the small ones, I mean those of the Hospi∣tal. Nor indeed is it long since, upon an occasion of securing all beggers, the Beadles found in the street one of this famous tribe, and carried him thither: But there rise a great debate, viz. whether the silly Wretch should be disposed among the poor, or among the mad, because he seemed to be both: At last a Gentleman that chanced to be present, deliver'd him, and made him his domestick Fool. Gentle Shepherd, (says Anselme to Lysis) you kdow well where those small houses are, which are quoted to you: I remember your Cousin Adrian threatned to lodge you there when you disobey'd him: I would gladly know how you would look if you were there; would you take for Shepherdesses all those good old wives that are there? would you entertain them with amorous complements? Go and seek who should answer thee, discourteous friend! says Lysis; thy interrogatories are odious. I pray excuse the freedom I have taken, replies Anselme, and go on in your discourse con∣cerning the Poets. I'll no more of that neither, says Lysis: whether they be ridicu∣lous or no, the condition of Shepherdry is never the worse: Good things must not be esteemed ill, for having been ill described.

This entertainment being ended, every one entred into somwhat more particular, even to Lysis, who had the means and opportunity to set upon Charite. He was so much the more confident to speak to her, because she sometimes look'd on him smilingly? Are you not then the same cruel one still, who disdain my services? says he to her: Are you no longer offended with me? My anger uses not to continue so long, answers she. Then am I obliged to heaven, replies Lysis; you have done what prudence it self ought to have done: If I have at other times offended you, I will do it no more henceforward; and I will live with you as modestly as if I were to converse with a Nun, untill such time as the sweet tye of marriage shall open the gate of my affections. And that is the reason that I now make my humble suit to you, that you will be pleased to impose what laws you think good on me, and I shall observe them. Consider, my fair one! what commands do you lay on me? I am ready to obey you. I have not so great a power over you, says Charite; I only desire you not to speak to me but in private, because my Ladies Brother in law hath ever somwhat to say to me concerning your love. Your intreaties are to me commands, says Lysis; Is there any thing else you would have me do? There is, answers Charite; and that is, that you follow all the good counsel I shall give you, lest we both be laugh'd at. You might have spared that charge, replies Lysis; so far am I from wanting a faith for the oracles that proceed out of your mouth.

While the Shepherd was thus employ'd, Anselme had gotten neer Angelica, for to discover his affection unto her. But he receiv'd not from her the least favour∣able answer. So that bethinking him she might be still in the opinion that he lov'd Geneura, as she had been inform'd before, he caused Montenor to advance, who from one discourse to another came to speak of this his first Mistress, making it appear how her Servant had left her, and that she was since married to another. However Angelica persisted in her disdains; and when Anselme ever fell upon any demon∣stration of the greatness of his affection, she told him, that the passion which he seem'd so sensible of, was as extravagant as that of Lysis. You are too cruel if you say so, (says Anselme to her) for I do not think you believe it: You know that your perfections never could raise in my soul any thoughts or desires which were not re∣gulate; and as for my actions, they differ much from those of our Shepherd. The effects of Love are indeed divers, replies Angelica, but the folly of it is ever alike.

This discourse was broke off by the approach of Florida. But Anselme besetting himself seriously to consider, was much troubled to find out the cause why his Mi∣stress treated him more disdainfully then ordinary. He was not of those Fools who marry Wenches before they know whether they entertain them with any affection, and are ever after upon the threshold of divorce. He was resolved to say nothing to Leonora, till he were assured of her Daughters good will; and it was she that he would first gain, as being the place of most importance. He therefore resolved to make provision of Constancie for to persevere in a suit, whereof he doubted not his satisfaction if he brought it about.

The time to depart being come, he went home in the Coach with Montenor, and Clarimond and Lysis were of the company. As for Hircan, he rode home to his own castle: And for Carmelin, he being oblig'd to look after the Flock, which he had left to the care of Bertrand's son, took his way to the Cottage, whither he re∣tir'd, and was much displeas'd that he was fain to go afoot, and alone. When Lysis was come to Montenor's, he told the company, that the reason of his coming thither was to consult with them, and consider of the way which he should take for to ac∣quaint all the French his Countrymen with the pleasures he promis'd them. Clari∣mond answered, There was no more to do but to write down the Si quis or Bill he had dictated to him, and send it to some Printer at Paris; and that besides, it were not amiss to direct a Letter to the Wits of the times, who are the first wheels that put the affections of the people in motion. This advice being approved, Lysis writ his Si quis; and when he had done, this Letter.

To all POETS, ROMANCISTS, &c.

Gentlemen,

HAving received notice of your high knowledg from very worthy persons, besides the testimonies I have found thereof in your innumerable and infinite writings, I do upon mature consideration believe I cannot meet with better associates then your selves, in the design I have undertaken, to reestablish the Felicity of the World. You may find what I promise in my publike Bills: And you are now entreated, upon my account, to come and meet me in Brie, there to put on the habit of Shep∣herd. There is no excuse can exempt you from being of this

Profession, since you have published in your Books, that it is extreamly delightfull. And that hath made me confident to direct this Letter unto you, hoping that ere long I shall see you here, holding the Sheephook in the one hand, and the Pen in the other, for to describe your noble adventures, according as you shall accomplish them. Then shall you be assured to re∣ceive what Favours and Obligations you can justly desire from,

Your most Affectionate Friend, the Shepherd LYSIS.

All this was fair writ over after supper, with a letter directed to one of the most famous Printers in Paris, wherein Lysis desired him to print his Si quis, and to have it stuck up in the streets, and to deliver the other Missive to the WITS of the time. The next day the packet was given to the Carrier of Coulommiers, who past by the house Lysis believing that his affairs were in a succesful posture, went cheerfully into the coach for to return with Clarimond. He forgot not to take with him all his Accountrements; and above all, the sheephook which Montenor had given him, But he presented it afterward to Carmelin, reserving to himself his own Green-Gilt, at the end whereof he nailed a plate of iron, having found the card quite torn and worn away. Clarimond remembring what business he had to do, suffer'd him to wander the fields for to take his former exercise; and then it was that being alone with Carmelin, he asked him a many questions: Hast thou not seen the in∣comparable Charite? said he to him: Is she not the fairest piece that ever nature drew? but 'tis well remembred, thou hadst seen her once before, when thou carri∣edst my Letter to her. Carmelin, who had taken Synopa for Charite, was much a∣maz'd when he saw his Masters true Mistress, and had almost acknowledged his er∣rour: so that saies he, Pardon me there, I never saw her you speak to me of till this last time. Thou wert a lyar then, when thou toldst me thou hadst delivered her my Letter, and that thou hadst well considered her. Not so neither (replies Carmelin, willing to repair his fault) I have always told you the truth, I thought I had seen her the first time, though it were but as she pass'd by; but having yesterday view'd her at my leisure, I found in her so many excellencies, which I had not observed be∣fore, that I thought I had never seen her.

Lysis was appeas'd, and much taken with this subtil evasion. He afterward asked Carmelin, whether he had seen the Mistress he had a desire to bestow on him. I did indeed see a great Swine of a servant-maid, called Jacquelina, but as for a wench worthy to be my Mistress, I have not seen any. Thou art very humourous, but I'll not oppose my self against it. It's a sign thou beginnest to take courage: however, I shall not any more embark my self in thy affections. Endeavor to pro∣vide for thy self, though art old enough. I see well where thy shoe pinces. Thou still grievest for the presence of Synopa, that fair Nymph of the waters. The Devil make a Gallows of her, if I so much as think on her, replies Carmelin: you are to know that when I was come home last night, I related to our Land-Lord your adventures, and my own. He was almost out of himself, when I told him of those dances and banquets in the night with fair Ladies, and men with great beards, that could not speak. He told me, that without question we had been at the Sabbath, and that those we had seen were so many evil spirits: That as for the meat which was

there eaten, it was nothing but wind; as indeed I must confess it hath not much burthened my stomach. When I consider the mischief they did me, and all the se∣veral postures of that cursed crew, I am oblig'd to believe they were no other then the inhabitants of hell. Wherefore if you have any desire to converse with them any further, I am advis'd not to serve you any longer. Alas! what blindeness is this? cryes out Lysis; whither will the insolence of humane spirits reach, when it mistakes the most favourable Deities that may be, for evil spirits? This is far from sacrificing to them. Since thou art in an error Carmelin, I will endeavor to deliver thee out of it. Let's go to the fountain Lucida, possibly the Nymph of it will be so courteous as to appear to us. In saying so, Lysis goes forward, and being come near the source, he several times calls Lucida; but not seeing her appear, he said that patience must be had, and that it may be she was gone a walking some way; or that she would not shew her self so easily to men in the day time. After this he made a light meal on bread and nuts; and when the Sun was set, he return'd along with Carmelin to his Land-lords. The Good man, who according to what he had been told of him, thought him a wizard, and was in some fear to sup with him; yet had he the con∣fidence to ask him, why he who had much money, and seem'd to come of good friends, troubled himself with the keeping of sheep; since they were only the poor∣est lads in the Country that put themselves into that imployment. Thy discourse is as rustical as thy person, honest friend, replies Lysis, canst thou wonder that I take the sheephook in hand, seeing so many Knights have forsaken the Lance upon the same account; nay, since there have been Kings that have preferr'd it before their Scepters, that so they might pursue their Loves with more Liberty? It's true, this is not seen in this Countrey, but it is so in Forrests and other places: but it will not be long ere there will be even here a many as illustrious Sheperds as my self. However, there is not such pleasure in keeping of Sheep, reply'd the honest Pea∣sant; I had rather be at Paris in your brave hang'd Chambers, telling of crowns. Behold what all the Philosophers have taught us, saies Lysis; that we are not hap∣py, commonly proceeds from our selves, but we have not the capacity to acknow∣ledge it. Thou art in the midst of the pleasures of the Country, which I come from far to search out, and thou art not content, for want of knowing how to enjoy them. Well, well, it shall not be long ere thou be pack'd hence, and other more noble persons shall come in thy place.

Bertrand durst say no more after so rough a return: he resolved not to make any further enquiry into the affairs of his guests, so that he might still get by them. So the whole family went to bed: but there being but one bed for Lysis and Carmelin, the Master was not well pleas'd to be so dispos'd with this servant. 'Twas not that he disdained him; but because he was accustomed to lie alone, that he might be in what posture he pleas'd, and turn from one side to another in the midst of his reve∣ries. The night before he had had a bed to himself at Clarimonds, and had need of it, having watch'd three nights together. This also he was resolved to sleep with Carmelin, who swore nevertheless the next day, that he never had such an ill nights rest, his Master had been so unquiet. They led their flock abroad to graze, a good distance that day; and being near a close of Oronte's, they saw Charite coming out of it all alone, so that they went forward to speak to her.

This Wench having discover'd by all the actions of Lysis, that he had indeed a great passion towards her, could not any longer wish him ill; considering also that the other maids of the house had put it into her head, that whatever folly he might carry about him, she must needs be very happy if she married him, since he was very rich. 'Tis true, Angelica knowing she was in that opinion, had maliciously endeavored to put it out of her minde: That she might seem cruel to towards her servant, she had taught her certain things to say to Lysis, when ever he should speak to her, making her believe it were the way, to finde out whether he lov'd her or no. Lysis having saluted her, and told her that he was come again to submit himself to her, and to know what commands she had to lay on him besides what she had told him at the last waiting on her. She answered him somewhat harsly, I command you

not to obey me any more, and presently she return'd the sameway she came, without any further ceremony; for so her Mistress had advised her to do, who had also taught her the foresaid discourse.

Lysis was as insensible as a Stock; so that Carmelin seeing him fixt upright, and saying nothing, thought he slept standing, and came and pull'd him by the skirts of his coat, for to awake him. Let me alone, saies Lysis to him, why dost thou oblige we to speak. If I had been a quarter of an hour longer in my transportation, my history would have been by so much the more noble, and more admirable. But let us go hence, since thou wouldst have it so. I shall finde my misery as well in one place as in another: Alas! my memory dogs me every where; it will ever repre∣sent to me the cruel words of Charite, I command you not to obey me any more, said she. O God! what cruelty's this! After I had receiv'd so many testimonies of her good will, in two days she is chang'd, and will not have me obey her any more; which is as much as to say in one word▪ that she desires not to be any longer my Mistress, nor that I should be her servant: Wherein have I offended her? Let her tell me my offence, and if I am found guilty, I shall desire no other to ordain my punish∣ment but a Busiris or a Phalaris.

The disconsolate Shepherd utter'd many such complaints as he walk'd along with Carmelin; and when he came to a path that led to Montenor's, he would needs go thither for to say something to Anselme. Having by good hap met with him, he asked him whether he had still in his Box the Eccho of St. Clou, because he now thought it time to make some use of it; and that he had found a cave very fit to be its abode. Anselme answered him, that he had been very careful to preserve such a pretty little Nymphs, and that he thought it a fit time to present him with it. Upon that he left him, and returning again presently, he put into his hands a box, wherein he assur'd him the Eccho was. Lysis having given him many thanks, re∣turns with so much joy, as a little diverted the sadness which he had conceiv'd at the disdain of Charite. But being withal very impatient, before he was come half way to the place where the little Nymph was to be dispos'd, he was so desirous to see her, that he opened the Box. As soon as the lid was off, the Sparrow which An∣selme had put into it fled away; so that he soon lost the sight of it. Whither fliest thou? O most precious member of the body of the fairest Nymph that ever was, says the desolate Shepherd; my curiosity hath been as impertinent as that of Pan∣dora, Aglaura and Psyche. Why did I not stay till I were come into a less spaci∣ous place then this? O Eccho, Eccho, where art thou?

This he uttered as loud as he could, and yet there was not any Eccho made an∣swer. At length, being towards the evening come near the place of her abode, he cry'd out again, and heard an Eccho, for indeed there was one there. If this be not the Eccho I have lost saies he, it is another as good. It must be thought there may be as excellent ones in Brie, as in the Isle of France. Dear Nymph, continues he, I have been ill treated by Charite this afternoon; will she continue her cruelty. The Eccho answered Cruelty: And having ask'd her afterwards something else, she pronounc'd words, whence he could not dra any satisfaction; so that having presently met with Clarimond, he made his complaint to him. You are in a very great error, saies Clarimond to him: you are to know, that if the Eccho an∣swers any thing to the purpose it is by chance; and of a hundred words, there may not be two wherein there is any sense. And whereas you finde in Books a long train of answers that are very good, they have been purposely invented, and that with much difficulty. Besides, 'tis to no purpose to consult that oracle, it is a vain and ridiculous one. It knows little, since it saies nothing but what it hath heard us say, and all it doth, is to repeat the last syllables of a period where we stop. You are deceiv'd your self, replies Lysis, if I had the Eccho which I have now lost, it woold answer me to any thing I should ask it. I have elsewhere had experience of its skill. He thereupon related part of what the Eccho had said to him at St. Clou. And indeed if we remember, though it was Anselme that made him immediate answers, yet had the replies much sense in them: And if it be wondred how that could be,

and it be objected to me, that Clarimond thought the good answers of an Eccho could not be brought about without pains; I shall be excus'd if I say, that besides that there was much hazard in the business, Lysis then ended his periods with cer∣tain words he had chosen long before, as the best he could find for to speak in to an Eccho.

After he had related that brave adventure, he told him what Anselme had pre∣sented him withall, and of his curiosity: which made Clarimond wonder at his folly more then ever. the Shepherd, when he had done that story, could not but tell him how the loss of his Eccho had follow'd that of the favour and affection of Charite, as indeed misfortunes go ever in company. Clarimond having learn'd of him the words which his Mistress had said to him, told him presently; Shepherd, you have no reason to be any ways troubled: If Charite hath commanded you not to obey her any more, why will you obey her in this very command? What she hath said to you, signifies as much as if she had said nothing at all: She will not have you to obey her, and yet you see she commands you; she will not lay any further com∣mand on you, and yet she will have you to obey her: What may be concluded thence, but that you must take no notice of this last command, which you must not obey, and observe the former ones which oblige you to obedience? Lysis had much ado to comprehend the sense of this discourse: For Clarimond understood it not too well himself, and would needs explain one piece of Gibrish by another more ob∣scure. However I must confess, says the Shepherd to him, dear friend! that thy subtilty is great, and that thy solutions are admirable. Yet my mind is still in dis∣quiet, and I have some particular opinions which seem to me as like to be true as thine. Alas! I shall ever have a memory of those cruel words of Charite: I com∣mand you not to obey me any more. They will cause no that grief that I shall die of. Astraea never spake any thing so harsh to Celadon, and yet he stick'd not to cast himself into the River. All she said to him was, that he should go his wayes, and never appear before her till he was commanded. This was easie to be understood, and could not put his mind into so much disquiet. Well, since you will not believe me, says Clarimond, the only remedy remains, is, to propose your difficulty to some Logi∣cians: but for my part, I shall ever be of opinion, that we must do by this knot as Alexander did with that of Gordian; and that you must cut it asunder; if you can∣not untie it. I can well yet have the patience, till I meet with a convenience for to ask Charite herself about it, says Lysis: Or in case that take not, I must com∣municate the business to the Doctors of Amorous Philosophy, which I intend to set up.

Upon this resolution Lysis took leave of Clarimond, for to return to his lodging. Carmelin, who was already come home, had put up his Flock, and was thinking of the Kitchin, which was very empty and cold. After a sober supper, every one went to bed: But no sleep could fasten on sad Lysis; he did nothing all night but repeat the words of Charite: He would tell his man, that they caus'd him an affliction worse then death it self. There is indeed a great matter to be troubled at, answers Carmelin: Let us not obey her in this, since she will not have us to do it. Alas! replies Lysis, that's the same reason as Clarimond's: But I will maintain against all the world, that the meaning of Charite is, that she desir'd me not to obey her in any thing she hath heretofore commanded me. What commands were those? says Carmelin. 'Twas, replies Lysis, that I should not speak to her but in private. Nay, then you have a very shrewd turn done you, continues Carmelin; you shall hence∣forth speak to her before all the world. Thou hast a judgment good enough, re∣plies Lysis: but there is somwhat more then that in it; she also commanded me to believe all the admonitions she should give me; and now that she hath given me an order not to obey her, there is no question but I must resolve not to obey her. All this comes to what I said before, says Carmelin: That's it which I tell you, that since she commands you not to obey her, you must not do it. Do not obey her in this, Master: you take things in a contrary sense, and you trouble your self without cause; you may observe that you contradict your self in your discourses, and

yet in spight of your teeth you are ever within two fingers breadth of the truth.

These two Shepherds pass'd away the night in these and the like contestations, wherein they so distill'd their spirits, that it was a fear they might lose what little remain'd. Though Carmelin had not studied so much as his Master, yet might he now be thought able to teach him what he ought to believe: For passion having blinded Lysis, made him take all things in the worst sense. When it was day, Lysis carried his Flock abroad, not willing to starve it, for to make it participate of his sadness. He met in his way a man in black, riding on a lean Hackney, who in one hand held the bridle, and in the other a bowl and a glass-bottle. You'll not be dis∣pleas'd, Sir, if I ask you who you are, and whence you come, says the Shepherd to him, who was somwhat amaz'd to see him in that posture. I am an Apothecary, at your service, replies the other: I have been administring some physick at Orontes's to a servant-maid call'd Catherine. She that you speak of is the Shepherdess Cha∣rite, replies Lysis; but that's no great matter, it's but a mistake: Tell me what she is sick of. 'Tis no great matter she is troubled with, replies the Apochecary; she had a mind to be purg'd, for to be freed of some little pains she felt in her members, as being somwhat rheumatick. I have need to be purg'd too, and that without delay, replies Lysis: I will go to bed presently: Do me the favour to bring me my physick as soon as may be; my lodging is at Bertand's, the Vine∣dresser.

He had no sooner spoke the last word, but the Apothecary, who desired nothing but employment, promis'd to bring him very suddenly what he desired. He began to spur his Tit with the points of nails which he had fastened to the heels of his shoes in stead of spurs, and in a little time he came to Coulommiers where his shop was. Lysis seeing him departed, leaves the sheep in the custody of Carmelin, and went very seriously into bed. The Apothecary being return'd, gave him the Physick he had prepar'd for him, and receiv'd the ordinary rate for it. In the mean time Cla∣rimond walking abroad met Carmelin, and enquired of him where his master was. He answer'd him, he was sick, and that he was to take a Purge. So that Clarimond went to see him, and ask'd him what was his indisposition. Methinks I feel in my stomach some extraordinaay crudities, says Lysis; the reason whereof I conceive can be no other, then that I have yet some reliques of the nature of the Tree: I would fain be rid of all these encombrances, that my digestion may be more free: It may be there is yet some part of me that is wood, and haply hath not yet fully arrived to the tenderness of flesh. Entertain no such imagination, says Clarimond: Hircan's a person so able, that he hath perfectly put you into your former condition; you are better in health then ever you were Before you had taken physic, you should have considered, that whereas it should do you good if you were sick, it will do you so much the more hurt since you are well. I am to tell you a story to this purpose: I brought home with me on a time three of my friends to my own house, where we debauch'd it four days together; the fifth day in the morning I represented unto them the excess we had used before, and began to remonstrate to them that our bo∣dies could not but be in some danger, if we did not purge, and so disperse the ill hu∣mours which we had gathered together. They all believ'd me; so I sent for an Apothecary, who brought every one his dose. We lay all four in my chamber, two in a bed. When every one was presented with his glass, and that I observed my Comrades began to make wry faces, Take courage, said I to them, let's shut our eyes, that we may not see any thing; he that shall have dispatch'd first, shall pay nothing. As soon as I had said so, they made all the haste possible to take off their Physick: but while they took no notice of me, I cast mine besides the bed, and presently jump'd into the midst of the room, and began to laugh at the rest; and that when they were the most sick at heart, and in the midst of their gripings and wry-faces. Then did they discover my knavery, but were fain to take all in jest. I made it appear to them, that I stood not so much in need of Physick as they did, and that it came not amiss to them; though out of indignation to see that I had taken

none, they were in a manner ready to cast it up. I did very well not to purge my self, when I had no other reason but a merry humor; and you have done as ill to presume on the same remedy without necessity, or the advice of any Physician. I have no other Physician then Love, saies Lysis, 'tis he hath written me a receit upon his own headband. Assure your self, there is in this a secret greater then you ima∣gine; and though I should have found my self in no indisposition at all, yet should I not have abstained from physick. I believe you have read in the Poets, that Lovers are oblig'd to conform themselves to the humors, qualities and actions of their Mistresses. They are sad in their sadnesses, sick in their diseases, joyful in their joy, and healthful in their health; they laugh, when they see them laugh; they weep, to see them weep, sharing with them both in their delights and their torments. Now having been informed that Charite was ill, how could it possibly be I should be well? You will no longer wonder that I am a-bed, and have taken physik; for having understood that she had taken some, I would needs imitate her, that so I might observe those Laws which Love lays upon me. But O the wonderful fate of my happiness! I have made use of no other Apothecary, then what she had; the same hand presented us both with the glass, and the glass I drank out of, was the very same whence she had already drunk; and there wanted nothing, but to know which side she had put her lips, that so I might have put mine in the same place. This being past, we must believe, saies Clarimond, that there remains now nothing, which we might call excellent to be done in the world. You have accomplish'd a thing, which even the most faithful Lovers never imagin'd; and the miracles of your histo∣ry will be more remarkable then those of all the Fables. All this is as much as no∣thing, replies Lysis, 'tis a long time since I have given my self up to these amorous conformities. I eat not any thing but what Charite loves and likes; I am only pleas'd in that wherein she is, If she wipe her nose, I wipe mine too; if she spit on the floor, I endeavour to do so too, though I should thereby dry up my lungs, and spet five hundred times before I hit the mark: if she chance to walk before me, I strive to put my feet in the same place where she had trod before; and I put my self into all the posture which I see her in, as if I plaid with her that game, where∣in a man must do all he sees done. You adde miracle to miracle, saies Clarimond I am infinitely glad to hear all this from your own mouth; for if I had had the relation from another, I should not so easily have believed it, though the Relaters should have bequeath'd themselves to all the Catchpoles of Pluto.

Clarimond having in dismission of this discourse entertain'd Lysis a while with other, left him, for to go home to dinner; and there being serv'd to the table a good sort of Broth, he sent some to the poor sick person. The rest of that day his Hostess took charge of him: and Carmelin being return'd in the evening out of the fields, was very inquisitive to know how he did: who told him, that his sick∣ness was nothing, so that Charite were recovered; and that assoon as it were day he must needs have some account of her. Carmelin its suppos'd, slept not much, he rise before it was quite day, and went to Orontes's Castle. By that time he was there, they were all arising; where having met with one of Leonora's maids, he asked her whether the Mistress of the Shepherd Lysis were still sick? and if there were no means to speak with her. She is sicker then she was yesterday (answers the maid, who knew well enough whom he spake of) she must sleep yet a while▪ since yesterday in the evening she hath had a swelling over her cheek, and one eye, so that she hardly sees any thing, and she hath her face half swath'd about: she must be let blood anon, for to divert the humor.

Carmelin having receiv'd this answer, return'd to his Master to tell it him. When he knew it, he fell into an unspeakable affliction, yet not willing to be defective in the imitation of Charite, he said he would be let blood as well as she. Carmelin knew not where there was any Chyrurgion; but his host directed him to a village close by, where there was one. He was ready to be gone to fetch him, when Lysis cryes out, Stay, stay Carmelin, I will have no other Chyrurgion but my Mistresses, thou must know who that is. Go again to Orontes's, thou wilt finde him there

yet: but before thou goest, finde me out some linnen or other, and binde up my eye and my cheek. To what end, saies Carmelin; you all nothing there! Ah! Stupidity! cryes out Lysis: Can Charite ail any thing which I must not feel? Now that she hardly sees anything; wouldst thou have me have my perfect light? Now that she hath the use but of one eye, must I enjoy both? I will have but one eye no more then she.

Lysis seeing, notwithstanding all this, that Carmelin did not much make it his bu∣siness to get him some linnen, reach'd his breeches and took out his handkerchief, which he gave him to binde up his face withal: But now there happens a great con∣troversie in his minde, because he knew not which cheek it was that Charite had swollen. Carmelin told him he had not remembred to ask whether it were the right or the left: So that his Master, for fear of mistaking, thought it most secure to binde up all his face. Carmelin answers, that that were not to any purpose, and that it were best stay till the Chyrurgion were come, who should resolve him on which cheek he ought to ail any thing: So having presently given the flock in charge to Bertrands son, he returned to Orontes's, to satisfie Lysis's humors, which were not a little troublesome to him. He came thither just in the nick; for he met with a Chyrurgion of Coulommiers, who was coming out. He entreated him to come and let his Master blood. The Chyrurgion had no horse, so that he was fain to go along with him a foot as far as Bertrands. When he ask'd Lysis in which arm he would be bled; the Shepherd told him, in the same arm as the fair Lady he had let blood at Orontes's. The Chyrurgion having told him it was the left, he took his, and took at least three Porringers of blood. I fear me it is on the left cheek that that fair one ails somewhat, saies Lysis. You are in the right Sir, replies the Chyrurgion. Binde up mine too then, replies the Shepherd. You have no swelling there as she hath, saies the other; why should I do so? You will not do it? replies Lysis; let Car∣melin do it then. Thereupon Carmelin willing to obey him, came and bound up half his face: And the Chyrurgion being ready to be gone, Lysis spoke to him to this purpose; If you would have me esteem you any thing, learn the art of Chyrur∣gery otherwise then you have. Observe, that amorous wounds are much more dange∣rous then those you dress every day; and that experience teaches us, that a Mistress is never in any sickness, wherein the servant sympathizes not with her; and in a Love∣disease, instead of one sick person there are ever two.

The Chyrurgion after this discourse, receiv'd his gratuity, and went away much amaz'd. Lysis having put his arm in a scarf, bid Carmelin help him on with his cloathes. As he walk'd up and down the house, comes in Clarimond, who was ve∣ry careful to know in what posture he was. Seeing him with all his swathings about him, he ask'd him what hurt had hapned to him since. Lysis told him, that he would needs be let blood, and swath'd as Charite was, who had a swelling on her cheek. The imitation is very noble, saies Clarimond to him; but it is not to the full, for methinks you should have your face swollen, as well as your Mistress. That's it I would have perswaded him to, replies, Carmelin: and he should either have given himself, or got another to give him a many good blows, to make his eyes swell. Thy knavery is not the least in the world, saies Lysis, hold thou thy peace, there's no body speaks to thee. As for your part Clarimond, you are to know, that I was not only coment to have the left eye bound up, but that a while since, I would needs have them both, not knowing which it was that should be. Carmelin being gone to fetch the Chyrurgion, before he had bound me them up, I have always kept my hand on them, lest I might see any thing: for is it not fit the eyes of a Lover should be obscur'd, when one of their suns shine not? As for my let∣ting of blood, besides that it is in imitation of Charite, it is otherwise very good for me; but especially for this reason, that I have been much pleas'd to see my blood. Look on't Clarimond, you shall see therein the pourtraicture of my Mi∣stress: for all my veins are filled with that fair figure, which takes up all my thoughts. Clarimond beheld the blood, and to satisfie Lysis, said, that he saw therein some∣what resembling a face. With that little sight that is left me, saies Lysis to him,

I can see Charite there in her whole proportion. For your part, should you observe nothing, 'twere not your fault, but it were Loves, who would not permit you to see any thing therein,

Clarimond having some business elswhere left Lysis; being now assur'd, that he was sick of a disease, which no Physick or Phelbotomy could cure. He purposely sent a Lacquay to Montenor and Anselm, to acquaint them with the late actions of the Shepherd. Had they not been taken up in the entertainment of some that were come to visit them, they had given this poor patient a visit.

The night being come, Lysis went to bed as he was wont, but much rest he had not, so much did the remembrance of his Mistresses command disturb his thoughts. He was ever at Carmelin with his elbow, for to awake him, and to put him to some new explications of it. I cannot endure to repeat the same thing so often, saies Car∣melin to him, or at least, stay till it be day for to question me. The night is onely made to sleep, would you have me less happy then the beasts, which now are every where asleep. I'll lay you a wager there is not at this present one of our sheep awake. Wilt thou conform thy self to the beasts? replies Lysis, 'tis a bruital feli∣city that thou desirest. The night is not only ordain'd to sleep in, but also to con∣sult about affairs: Know that the greatest wits and ingenuities are they that resist the charms of sleep, to entertain themselves with their imaginations. The Lovers are they also that have this custom, and especially among them the Shepherd Lysis. All the fault thou art guilty of in not imitating me, proceeds from this, that thou hast yet thy Liberty. O what a prodigy it is to see a Shepherd so free! Thou ought'st rather be Soul-less, then Love-less. But it is true, that I foresee thou wilt shortly be put into the chain as well as the rest. Love is importunate, till he wound those that re∣sist him; and none loves more passionately, then a cold disposition, as thine is, when it begins to be enflamed. Whether it be so or not, its no great matter, saies Car∣melin; but for the present I am so desirous to rest my self, that though they should cry, Fire, I would not rise, whether they should mean the fire of Love, or that of the Chimney.

This discourse ended, the two Shepherds spake no more one to another. When it was day, they put on their cloathes both together, and for company-sake went abroad with the flock: while they drave it still before them, being near a farm of Hircans, where they had not yet been, Lysis made a sign to Carmelin; and said to him, if I am not deceiv'd, I hear the sound of a rural instrument, without question we are now in the Shepherds Countrey. Carmelin confest, that he also heard some∣what very harmonious: And descending into a little valley, they perceiv'd a Shep∣herd playing on the Bag-pipes. Lysis being come near him, Pan defend thee gentle Shepherd, saies he to him, I am ravish'd to see thee, it is a long time since I saw any of our quality, thy entertainment here is very delightful. Thou inspirest the holes of thy sweet sounding-pipe. Now am I certain thou art no idle person; had I my Gittarrhe here, we should make a consort together.

This Shepherd, who was a Countrey fellow, simple enough, was amaz'd to see Lysis and Carmelin in the posture they were in, that he view'd them one after ano∣ther from head to foot; insomuch, that Lysis seeing he said nothing, continued his discourse. Dost thou think, saies he to him, that the instrument thou playest on is more proper for those of our quality then the Gittarrhe? Were I sure of it, I would learn on the Bagpipes, to the end I might be Pastoral in all things. Master, says Carmelin, though I cannot play well on the Bag-pipes, yet I can do somewhat at the Flute. Here's one saies Hircans Shepherd, lets see what you can do. Carme∣lin took the Flute out of his hands, and began to play Gueridon's tune, and the o∣ther Shepherd bore a part with the Bagpipe, whereat Lysis was very well satisfied. When they had dismiss'd their instruments: My Lads, saies Lysis to them, your musick is sweeter to the ear, then the noise of a brook that slides through the peebles 'Tis delightful to hear the plaints of a Heifer, when Love pricks her; sweet is the singing of a Swan, that's dying, sweet is the warbling of the nightingale, sweet is the honey, which is prepar'd by the little bees; sweet is the sugar of Madera: but far

more sweet are you Pastoral instruments. Some other time I will make you talk of Eclogues, after the manner of Theocritus, Virgil and Ronsard; and I will pre∣sent him that shall do best with a basket of flowers, a birds-cage; a cheese-basket, or some fine garland. In good faith, I did not think Carmelin could have done so much: O how much worthier do I now esteem him to make a Shepherd, then I did before. However, I will not learn to play on the Flute as he doth, nor yet on the Bag-pipes: For I remember I have heard it said, that Minerva beholding her self in a fountain, while she plaid on the Flute, she cast it away immediately, be∣cause she seem'd too deformed in that action, wherein one must over-swell his cheeks. I will not disfigure my countenance. The Lute, the Guitarrhe, the Viol, the Bandore, and the Timbrel are for us Shepherds of better quality; the Flute, the Oaten-pipe, and the Bag-pipe, for Shepherds of a lower degree, as Carmelin, and some others of this Countrey. Since you are my Master, saies Carmelin, there is no question but I am below you: yet I should wish I might not be called Servant, as there are some that do call me so. I should desire to have a more honorable title: All the reason in the world, Carmelin; says Lysis: I declare thee my Commissary in what shall concern Shepherdry, as Anselme hath his Commissaries in the business of the revenues: Thy principal charge shall be to have a care of my flocks, when I am not in place. Carmelin was very well satisfied with this dignity, and his Master having bidden farewel to Hircans Shepherd, as he also had done, they drave their sheep before them into another place: leaving the other so astonish'd to see those two Shepherds marching after so wretched a flock, that it was one of the strangest things he had ever seen.

Having left him, they march'd on still for a good while; and at length sitting down near a fountain, they are bread, and drank water. Carmelin was not the best pleas'd at this entertainment, this was not the life his Master put him in hopes of. He thought he should have had none but Wedding-days, whereas they made him temperate in spight of his teeth. Having been so ill treated as to chear, he must dispatch for Orontes's for an account of Charite's disposition; which employ∣ment would have gone much to his heart, were there not some hope they might have so much consideration as to make him drink.

Lysis being left alone, his flock and his dog rather led, then were guided by him; he follow'd them still, never considering whither they led him. The sickness of his Mistress was all the business of his thoughts. While he was in this contemplation, one of his sheep clambred up a little hillock, whereon was a tree, and grass all about it; another presently seconds it: but Lysis having struck at the former with his sheephook, it went round the tree, and came down; the second did the like; As also a third, that also was gotten up, and then a fourth and a fifth; and so did they all, even to the last. The first sheep seeing the rest gotten up, got up again, and came down, the rest did the like after it, going still about the tree, as being a sort of creatures, whose nature being to do what they see the rest do, they would never have gotten into their way, before they had all been where they had seen their companions. They would have clambred up, and come down, and would have gone about still, had there not pass'd by a man that put an end to the sport; for Musedor, which was not train'd up to Shepherdry, and could do nothing but bark at those that pass'd by, drew them not together; and as for Lysis, he was so surpris'd with the sport, that he could have wish'd it might have lasted to the worlds end. He who was come into the place, came and embrac'd him; and to take him out of his Transportation, said to him, Heaven bless thee! King of the Shepherds of Brie, but rather of all Europe, nay of all the earth: How fortunate am I to have met thee? Fame having convey'd thy name and merit into Burgundy, which is my Countrey, I was presently seiz'd with a desire to come and learn of thee the art to become happy. Lysis having retreated three steps to view the man, who was clad like a Shepherd as himself, he found he knew him not; and yet conceiving himself ob∣liged to him for the pains he had taken to finde him, he went and embrac'd him again, and said to him, Welcome, gentle Shepherd, since thou art the first that

casts himself into the arms of my protection, I swear to thee thou shalt be the first of whom I shall take care. I have no more to beg then thy name, that I may know whom I am obliged to. My name is Philiris, replies the Shepherd. Ah! what an excellent good name is that! says Lysis: how easie it is to see that thou art a Shepherd by birth! I make no question but thy history must be the noblest in all the world; wilt thou do me the favour to tell it me? I will tell thee even to those things, whereof there are yet none conscious but the Rocks and the Woods, answers Philiris: But let us find some place where coolness dwells; for this is so open and so hot, that it seems to be no other then that wherein Nature was delivered of the Sun.

Hereupon the two Shepherds took their way to a Thicket that was hard by, while there passes by a Coach wherein were Orontes, Florida, Leonora, Angelica, Anselme, Montenor, Clarimond, and Carmelin, whom the Ladies had newly taken up, poor Rogue as he was, to make some sport with. They all presently lighted, and Orontes told Lysis, that taking the air in the fields, they had met his Journy-man Shepherd, who had acquainted them that he was sick of the same disease as his Mi∣stress. Lysis answered, that Carmelin had said nothing but what was true; and so was putting himself into a posture to make long narrations; but he hears certain cries that made him be silent. Putting his finger on his mouth, as a sign to the rest, he drew neer the thicket whence the noise came, and all follow'd him very leisurely, till they came to certain trees, among which they saw two men cloath'd in white Taffata, having very fine Scrips hanging in scarfs, Strawn-hats on their heads, and painted Sheephooks in their hands.

They made as if they heeded not those that dogg'd them; and one of them being lain down on the earth as it had been to sleep, the other began this complaint.

Gentle Zephirs, who reign in these places! were there ever sadder sighs then mine mingled with your breathings? Ye Trees who are now so green, have you ever seen fires as mine, which are such as would dry you up to the very roots? And you Springs, were your waters warmed by any tears bigger then mine? O then you Zephirs, Trees, and Springs, if ever my Shepherdess come hither, tell her what you have seen me suffer. But alas! you are deaf as well as dumb, O dear witnesses of my martyrdom. There's none but Polidor that is able to suc∣cour me. What doth that faithfull friend think on? hath he no compassion on one in his own condition? How wilt thou have me assist thee, dear Meliantes! answers that Polidor: Knowest thou not that I want comfort more then thy self? She that I adore will not believe my love; and not meeting with any sig∣nal occasions to make it appear I am so miserable that I must wish her some mis∣fortune, that I may shew my affection in her relief. Having the other day with∣drawn my eyes from hers, which dazled me, I fix'd them on her neck, thinking there they might be more safe: But O God! that Neck is Snow; 'twas her de∣sign to make me lose an eye, as Hannibal did by fixing his too much on the snow of the Alpes. Nor can I indeed do any thing, but I am tormented by some fresh accident; and as Mithridates lived by poyson, so do I on amorous thoughts. Ah wretch that I am, what shall I do then, cries out Meliantes, since Heaven, Fate, Nature, my Mistress, and Polidor forsake me? I am now on the amorous sea, where a tempest whirls about my ship; but though it should be sunk, and I put to fortune, yet if I can but embrace the neck of my Goddess, that fair pillar of white marble planted above two living rocks, I shall escape shipwrack.

Thus far was Meliantes gone, when Lysis not being able to refrain speaking any longer, cries out, God be prais'd! I have found what I look'd for. How learned are these Shepherds! they speak altogether by Allusions and Metaphors. The Shepherd Polidor upon that starts up, and looking on him, Philiris, and Carmelin, Which of you three, says he, is the servant of the fair Charite? That am I, and no other, replies Lysis. O happy day to us, continued Polidor: It is a long time since

my Comrade and I have been to seek you: Seeing you all three of a good com∣plexion, I knew not which was Lysis. You are then to know that Love plays the cruel Tyrant over us; and we believe there is not any one in the world of whom we might hope better advice and direction then from you, in our affairs. I am a true Physitian of minds, replies Lysis: Tell me that of yours, and I will prescribe you excellent remedies. This made Polidor weep, and wiping his eyes with a hand∣kerchiff, You will oblige me to repeat and renew strange torments, says he; I should not desire so soon to thrust the weapon again into my wounds: I should cry too loud, and importune the ears of these Knights and Nymphs that are in your attendance; I am bashfull before so many. Let Meliantes speak then, replies Lysis. Who, I? answers the other: I have need of whole ages to prepare my self to re∣late the history of my adventures: I have so many things to say, that when I should once begin, there cannot a word proceed from my mouth, no more then there do drops of water out of a cup that is overfill'd. Ah! Love, who art the bestower of these torments, after thou hast taken away my heart, wilt thou deprive me of the liberty to complain? And if thou putst me every day to the rack, is it to any other end but to make me confess all my secrets? Tyrant, Executioner! cut out my tongue, or suffer me to tell what I endure.

In saying this, Meliantes beat the ground with his foot, and began to put him∣self into such postures as none but a mad man could be guilty of. So that Lysis taking him by the arm, endeavoured to give him the best consolations he could. In the mean time, most that were present look'd one on another, and were silent out of amazement: They imagin'd that Polidor and Meliantes were no wiser then Lysis, and that the other Shepherd he had brought with him was not much behind them. But it is not to be conceived that Nature could furnish three men sick of the same disease as the Extravagant Shepherd, who must be individual in his kind. However they knew not what to think, and they saw great demonstrations of folly in those new Shepherds. Lysis having appeared, Meliantes says to Clarimond, that he was very glad of his presence at the rencontre of the Shepherds, that in his hi∣story he might set down the true relation: And that as for the meeting with Phi∣liris and another Shepherd, he had seen that plaid on the Bagpipes, he would give him the particulars. I tell thee this freely, continues he, because I believe thou hast already begun the Book of my Loves. As for my part, that I am lodg'd neer thy Castle, 'tis principally because thou might'st be more particularly inform'd of my adventures: And for the same reason thou didst well to come and see me when I was sick, that thou might'st quote my several fits. Will you not also have me speak punctually of your Physick, replies Clarimond; shall I count your stools, and tell with what paper you wip'd your breech, as for example, if it were with some Letter the stile whereof was as smooth as cotton, or with some Verses which were as sharp as awls, so that they bled you behind? You are very much in the right to give me this direction; for 'tis now adays the mode with some to make Books of the relation of their diseases; and there are some will needs insert the business of their Apothe∣cary. Do as thou shalt think fit, says Lysis. Sir, says Carmelin, putting off his hat to Clarimond, will you not also write my history? I beseech you Sir; I shall think my self as much oblig'd to you as my Master. I will certainly do it, nay, I will write the history of thy Dog. I thank you Sir, replies Carmelin: but I give you notice of one thing, that is, that you call me not Lacquey nor Serving-man; I am a Lieutenant or Commissary in the business of Shepherdry. How now, Impudence and importunity together! (says Lysis taking Carmelin by the arm) be it sufficient that thou art spoken of as appearing in some of my adventures, though it be to carry a Letter, or do some message. What, dost thou expect a particular History, who never didst accomplish any thing which may not be written in impalpable paper with invisible ink, or on the surface of the waters with a feather taken out of the wings of the wind? Is it not a shame to see thee as big as thy father or mother, that yet hast done nothing noble? Where didst thou ever make any Verses, or bestow a Serenade on a Mistress, or hast gone through some adventure worthy to be re∣commended to posterity?

Carmelin being somewhat cast down at this rude reproof, retreated scratching his head: but as he was going to make some excuse, the three Shepherds came and told Lysis, that their loves were impatient, and that they would bring him to one of their friends, whom they would gladly consult with about their affairs. So they carried him and Carmelin away, and amaz'd the company so much the more; for if one said, I'll stab my self to be reveng'd of the cruelty of my Mistress, another swore he would cast himself headlong down some rock: and they seem'd to be so extravagant, that Lysis appear'd as wise in comparison of them, as Socrates the Philosopher. This bred in every one a desire to be acquainted with them, yet they follow'd them not, because they thought they would not so suddenly leave the Countrey, and that they might be seen at leisure some other time. The Gentle∣men and Ladies got into the coach again, and made an end of their walk.

In the mean time the five Shepherds having cross'd certain thickets, came into a little meadow, where two men and a woman were walking. One of them was Hircan, whom Lysis knew presently; and the other was Fontenay, whom he had not known, had he not been named, because he was not clad in scarlet, as he was wont, but had a suit of white Taffata. As for the fair Lady which was with them, it was Synopa; yet the Shepherd having told Lysis, that she was a Shepherdess call'd Parthenice, that they had brought with them, he believ'd it, because she had on a white petticoat, which she was not us'd to wear. O how like is this Parthenice to a Nymph of the waters that I know, saies he then. You are much in the right, saies Carmelin to him softly: I believe she is the very same, yet must I withal think she is none of the she-devils of your Sabath, since she is pleas'd to be seen in the day. Would you be content I should fall in love with her? Strike on Carmelin, it will be very well done, saies Lysis; methinks I see Love having his Bow ready to shoot at thee; open thy breast, and prepare thy self to receive that wound. Quick∣ly, do what I bid thee. Carmelin would not disobey his Master, being so surpris'd with joy, that he knew not what he did; for he had ever believed what his Master said, that there was no more to do but to choose a wench; and that he would cause her to be given him in marriage, be she never so rich, or never so handsom. Hircan having by this time perceiv'd them, came on and saluted them. Are you not now well-pleas'd in so good company? saies he to Lysis: Those Shepherds have travell'd up and down long ere they could finde you. Any one will be a Shepherd with you, and here's my Cosin hath put on the habit for to follow you. He is much to be commended, replies Lysis, out of that consideration I pardon him the affront he did me: It hath been heavy on my heart ever since: But you shall en∣joyn him never to offer at me any more, really, or so much as in thought. I should abjure all kinred with him if he do: but think no more on it, replies Hircan: He is now as gentle as a Lamb, we will henceforward lead a peaceable life, and it is my desire to become a Shepherd as well as the rest. Do not so by any means, sage Hir∣can, saies Lysis: do you not know, that in every good Pastoral, there is ever a Magician, who is never habited as the other Shepherds; so also must the Priests keep in their Sacerdotal Vestments, and the Satyrs continue in their nakedness. Hircan having granted him this, they with great admiration view'd the swathings about his head; and the Shepherd Fontenay could not refrain asking him, What ails your left eye, Shepherd, have you receiv'd some blow on it? Must we all have our faces bound for our accommodation of being Shepherds? This is particular to me, an∣swers Lysis, this binding up of my face is in imitation of my Mistress, who at pre∣sent is in this posture; imitate thou thine in other things, as thou shalt think fit. But observe my incomparable secret: Charite hath refus'd to honor me with any of her commands; and for want of her commands, to comfort my self, I do what I see her do; so that by my own miraculous subtilty, I still obey her in spight of her teeth, But 'tis very well remembred (saies he, turning to Carmelin) hast thou any tydings how that fair one does? I could not go and see her, for these Gentle∣men staid me, and got me into the coach, replies Carmelin: yet thus much I have learn'd, that her disease neither advances nor declines. Let heaven do its pleasure,

replies Lysis, but as long as she shall be bound up, I will be so too. This binding makes you I know not how more graceful, saies Fontenay, and yet you are not as yet but half Cupid; for you are but half blinde. By the borns of Pan thou art in∣genious, saies Lysis; thou wilt advance; Thy meeting is fortunate, and I dare tell thee, that though I am not Cupid, I am at least such a one as could give him birth in the world, were he not already.

While Lysis spoke this, Carmelin twiching him behinde, ask'd him softly, What shall I say to this fair one? Offer her thy service, and go no farther for the first time. Carmelin presently thinking his designs could not but have a fair issue; went and said to Synopa, Madam, if you have any occasion for a servant as faithful as any in the world, behold the Shepherd Carmelin offers himself to you, 'Twere to be known what wages you would have (answers Parthenice very coldly) but indeed I am not at leisure to think of that now. Having so spoken, she whispered some∣what to Hircan and Fontenay: after which, they left Lysis, and took their way by an obscure path, so that they were presently out of sight. Carmelin thought they had somewhat to do together; but Hircan and Fontenay being soon return'd, they brought not Synopa with them; so that he took the boldness to ask them where she was. Hircan told him, he had left her on the brow of a hillock, entertaining her self with her own imaginations. He would have gone just then to seek her, but his Master going along with Hircan and the Shepherds, hinder'd the design. They were come very near the Castle of this Magician, when they saw a very handsom woman issuing out of the grove: She was habited like the Shepherdess on a stage; and for her countenance, it could not more resemble that of Lucida then it did, for indeed it was she. Yet Hircan having said it was a Shepherdess call'd Amaryllis, Lysis firmly believ'd it. This is the day of Miracles, said the Shepherd; behold here's a Shepherdess in my judgement is very like an aquatick Nymph, whose image is graven in my minde, though I saw her only by Moon-light. There is the same resemblances of faces in all your Romances: Those which hold them impossible, why are they not here now to acknowledge their error?

Hereupon Amaryllis came and did reverence to the company; and Hircan see∣ing it was time to retire, ask'd Lysis whether he would do him the honor to sup with him. He thank'd him very kindely for the civiltty; but for this time he must de∣cline it, as not thinking fit to keep festivals, while his Mistress was sick. So all the Shepherds bid him adieu till the next day, that they were all to meet again in the same place, for to relate their several fortunes. In the return Carmelin drew his Master towards the place where it was said Parthenice was. It was a piece of over∣grown ground, where there grew nothing but weeds; and there was in the midst, a great stone, which was at least two farthoms square: but as for the Shepherdess, she appear'd not any where. Give over thy search Carmelin (saies Lysis, with a scat∣ter'd sight, as if he had spoken like a Prophet) thy Parthenice hath clearly chang'd her nature: Seest thou not, that the Gods willing to punish her cruelty, have meta∣morphos'd her into a Rock? That's not credible, Master, saies Carmelin; she only said one poor word to me, whereat I took no offence What she said to thee, was full of malicious derision, replies Lysis, when she spoke to thee of wages, after thou hadst profer'd her thy service; she would shew thee that thou wert much below her, and that she thought thee fit to be her serving-man, and not her servant in Love. Thou hadst not the apprehension to make answer to it: shouldst not thou have said that thou deservedst no other wages then her favour? My minde was taken up in the contemplation of her, saies Carmelin; and besides, I assure you, I thought not that that word touch'd me so much to the quick; and I am stil to avow, that not finding it any thing considerable in comparison of the rigors of others, which sometimes last ten years, I cannot believe she hath been chang'd into a stone for so small a mat∣ter. Then it seems thou hast not read Ovid. Carmelin, replies Lysis, all the per∣sons which that Author mentions as met••morphos'd, have suffer'd upon the first oc∣casion they gave the Gods to do it: as for Example, Apollo had no sooner pursued his Daphne, nor Pan his Syrix, but those two wenches slighting the love of the Gods,

the one was chang'd into a Laurel, and the other into a Reed. You have read more then I have, says Carmelin; I am very glad to receive your instructions, and in amends I will tell you what comes into my mind. It's likely your Magician, of whom I have heard wonders, hath promoted the Metamorphosis: but when I shall believe it, what have I to do? Weep and sigh night and day, replies Lysis, that's the disci∣pline befits a Lover that hath lost his Mistress: And then my company will not be tedious to thee, because if I complain of one side, thou wilt of the other. For my part, I shall ever speak of the Command without Command of Charite. And in the mean time, says Carmelin, I shall never cease speaking of the Metamorphosis with∣out Metamorphosis of Parthenice. Thou dost imitate my language very unhand∣somly, replies Lysis: 'Tis very true, Charite hath commanded me without com∣manding me; but 'tis not the same thing to say, that the Gods have meta∣morphos'd thy Shepherdess without metamorphosing her: She is really chang'd, and see if that stone be not white as her complexion and cloaths. In a certain place at the top, which should be the head, seest thou not certain marks which approach to red, and others which come neer black? They are the places where her eyes and mouth were: There are lower certain peeces which seem not to be well joyn'd together; they are the arms, which are not at all fastened to the bulk of the body.

Carmelin considered all this; and though he believed but the least part of it, yet his Master having told him, that before he leave the place he must do all honour to that stone, he was forc'd to go and kiss it: But because Lysis thought he went not to it with affection enough, he with much fierceness struck his nose against it.

In their return to Bertrand's, the faithfull Lover of Charite ceased not to think of the last answer of that fair one, which because of its obscurity seem'd to him an oracle. But observing that Carmelin conducting the Flock went along with much indifferencie, What! says he to him, weepest thou not, poor Lover? hast thou al∣ready forgotten that this day thou hast as soon lost as found one of the fairest Mi∣stresses in the world? What would you have me do? replies Carmelin; my eyes are not so soft. Why dost thou not answer me, replies Lysis, that tears are the demon∣strations of light griefs, of great ones astonishment? I excuse thee if thou canst not yet shew great testimonies of grief: To morrow it will be thy business, when thou shalt begin to remember thy self. Thou hast seen the actions of those amorous Shepherds which we have met; thou must not be less desperate then they, but shouldst imitate them in all things.

Carmelin answered Lysis, that he would ever think on things present, and that on the morrow he should see what he had to do. This discourse was their entertain∣ment till they came home, where they hous'd their poor sheep, which were so tired with driving up and down, that they were ready to fall on their noses. Lysis having supp'd with Bertrand's people, went to bed with Carmelin, repeating still in his mind his several adventures; and the last thing he said before he fell asleep, was, that he was sure that Fame was so desirous to render him still more glorious, that she was already grown hoarse with the common cries she had made of him in all parts of the world.

The End of the Sixth Book.