Scarron's novels ... rendred into English, with some additions, by John Davies ...
Scarron, Monsieur, 1610-1660., Davies, John, 1625-1693.
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The Rival-Brothers.

The Fifth Novel.

DOrothea and Feliciana were the two most beautiful and most amiable Ladies of any about the famous City of Sevil; but though they had not been such, their quality and great fortunes were so considerable as might well engage all those, who were desirous to be advan∣tageously mtch'd, to make their addresses to Page  231 them. It is not then to be doubted, but that, of Sutors, there was a pretty Catalogue, yet had not Don Manuel, their Father, declar'd himself in fa∣vour of any man's pretensions, and Dorothea, who, being the elder, should, by the course of the Cards, be married first, had, as well as her sister, been so reserv'd in her demeanour and actions, that the most presumptuous of her humble Servants were in some doubt, whether their services were kindly or unkindly received. These two Beauties never went publickly to Mass, but they were attended by a number of the greatest Gallants about the Ci∣ty, wherein the Miracle was, that so many diffe∣rent pretensions should agree so well, and that in a superstitious Country young Gentlemen should be guilty of any devotion, besides what they have for their Mistresses. Before they could get off their gloves to take a little Holy-water, other hands, some fair, some otherwise, bestow'd on them more than they needed. Their fair eyes were no sooner off their Prayer-books, but they were the centre of I know not how many immodest looks: and every step, as they went out of the Church, they had salutations to return.

But if they were thus importun'd with court∣ship in Churches, and publick places, where peo∣ple conceive themselves oblig'd to observe some reserv'dness, they wanted it not at home. For, their Father's house being in the midst of a spacious plain, there pass'd not a day without some of those divertisements, whereby Lovers would insinuate themselves into the favour of their Mistresses. And these our young Ladies took the more kindly, in that they made that restraint, which the tyran∣nical Page  232 custom of the Country imposes on their sex, the more supportable to them. In the day time, Cavalcades, Tilting, and such exercises were their entertainment, every night several sorts of Mu∣sick. One dy above the rest, there came in an un∣known Person who did such things as astonish'd all the beholders, and had been particularly ob∣serv'd by the two fair Sisters, to be one so neatly made, as if nature had intended him for a pattern. Several Gentlemen of Sevil, who had known him in Flanders, where he had the command of a Re∣giment of Horse, invited him to make one at their sport of Tilting, which he did, habited as a Sol∣dier.

Not long after, there happened to be at Sevil, the ceremony of the Consecration of a Bishop. The Stranger we spoke of before, who went under the name of Don Sancho de Sylva, came into that Church where it was to be performed, with seve∣ral others the greatest Gallants about the City, and the two fair Sisters Dorothea and Feliciana de Monsalvo were also there among divers Ladies, all disguis'd, according to the mode of Sevil, with mantles of a thick stuff, and hats with plumes of feathers in them. It was Don Sancho's fortune to stand between the two Sisters, and another Lady, with whom he would have enter'd into some dis∣course, but she civilly intreated him, to forbear speaking to her, and to resign the place he was in, to a person she expected, to meet her there. Don Sancho compli'd with her desires, and thereupon turning about, he makes towards Dorothea d Monsalvo▪ who stood nearer him than her Sister; and had observ'd what complements had pass'd Page  133 between him and the other Lady.

I was in hopes, Madam, said he, addressing himself to her, that, being a stranger in this place, the Lady to whom I would have spoken, would have vouch∣saf'd me her conversation; but she hath punish'd the confidence I had to think that mine was not to be slighted. I acknowledge my oversight, and I shall be more distrustful of my self another time. And therefore, be you pleased, Madam, to express less rigour towards a Stranger, whom you have seen treated with so much disrespect, and, for the honour of the Sevillian Ladies, to give him occasion to make some acknowledg∣ment of their kindness. You rather give me occasion to treat you with as much contempt as the other Lady did, replies Dorothea, since your applications to me are the effects of her refusal of them: but that you may not have too great cause to complain of the Ladies of this Country, I am content to discourse onely with you, as long as this Ceremony shall last, and thence, besides the kindness you may conceive done to your self, you may infer, that I have not appoint∣ed any one to meet me here. Being so excel∣lent a person as I imagine you to be, says Don Sancho, I cannot forbear wondring at it, but must withal conclude, that you are much to be fear'd, or that the Gallants of this City are ve∣ry timorous, or rather that he, whose place I have taken up, may be absent. And do you think, Sir, says Dorothea to him, that I am so ignorant in the matter of loving, that, in the absence of a Gallant, I could not forbea going to an As∣semly, where I should not ail meeting with Page  234 some other? Take heed another time how you pass so rash a censure, of a person you know not. You would find, Madam, replies Don San∣cho, that what you call my Censure is more to your advantage than you think, if you permit me to serve you answerably to the inclinations I have for you. Our first motions are violent, and there∣fore not always to be follow'd, says Dorothea to him; besides there is a great difficulty in what you propose to me. Not any so great, replies Don Sancho, but I shall be able to overcome, when the reward of it is to become your Ser∣vant. 'Tis not a design to be compassed in few days, says Dorothea; I find you a person will be easily transported, in that you seem to have for∣gotten, that you onely take Sevil in your way to some other place, and perhaps are yet to learn, that I should not take it kindly any man lov'd me, en passant, that is, by the way. Be you but pleased, Madam, said he, to grant me what I desire, and I promise you not to go any further than Sevil while I live. There is a great deal of spirit and gallantry in what you say, replies Do∣rothea, and thence I wonder much, that a per∣son who is able to say such things, hath not al∣ready made choice of a Lady, on whom he might bestow his gallantries. Proceeds it hence that he thinks them not worth his trouble? No, but ra∣ther out of a distrust of his own strength, says Don Sancho. Answer me precisely to what I ask you, says Dorothea, and confidently tell me, which of our Ladies is Mistress of those charms that might force your stay at Sevil. I have al∣ready told you, that it is in your power to do it Page  235 if you please, replies Don Sancho. You never saw me, says Dorothea; it must needs be some one that you have seen, therefore name some other. Since you press so much upon me, says Don Sancho to her, I must acknowledge, Ma∣dam, that if the Lady Dorothea Monsalvo were as ingenious as you are, I should account that man happy, whose merit she might value, and whose services she might allow of. There are in Sevil many Ladies as handsome as she is, nay many exceed her, says Dorothea, both in beauty and wit; but since you are pleas'd to pitch upon her, pray tell me seriously, did you never hear it reported, that she favour'd any one of her Gal∣lants particularly above all the rest? Finding my self at a great distance from deserving her, says Don Sancho, I never made it my business to en∣quire. And why do you think you might not de∣serve her as well as another, says Dorothea? I took you to be a person of greater courage than to betray so great a distrust of your self. Had you studi'd Ladies as much as I imagin'd you might have done, you would have found them mighty humoursome and fantastick, and that many times the first onset of a new comer makes a greater progress in their affections, than several years of services rendred by those Gallants, who are never out of their sight. From the character you give those Ladies, Madam, says Don Sancho, I may infer you would be loath to be included in the number, and so you take an ingenious way to rid your hands of me, by encouraging me to love some other Lady, and I clearly see, you would have but little regard for the services of a Page  136 fresh Gallant, to the prejudice of one to whom you had been long before engag'd, though 'twere out of no other reason than that you would not be thought humorous or fantastick. Take heed how you entertain any such thing in your ima∣gination, replies Dorothea, but rather persuade your self, that I am not so easily induc'd to re∣ceive a witty complement for an assurance of a growing inclination towards me, from a person who never saw me. If there wants onely that to make way for the amorous inclination I have for you, replies Don Sancho, conceal not your self any longer, from a person, who, though a stranger to you, is already infinitely taken with your wit. It's possible you might not be so much with my countenance, says the Lady. Ah Madam, says Don Sancho, it's impossible you should be other∣wise than very beautiful, when you so ingeni∣ously acknowledge that you are not; and now I am fully satisfi'd you would be rid of me, either, because you think me troublesome, or that your heart is already taken up. 'Twere therefore unjust, the goodness oblig'd you to bear with me thus far, should be any longer press'd upon, onely be pleas'd to assure your self, that what I have said was not merely to pass away the time with you, but to make a sincere proffer of that of my whole life to serve you. To satisfie you, Sir, re∣plies Dorothea, that I would not have that thought lost which I have spent in discoursing with you, I shall be glad, ere we part, to know who you are. I can do no less than obey you, replies he; know then, Madam, whom I think so amiable, though I have not seen, that I am Page  137 known by the name of Sylva; that my Father is Governour of Quitto in Peru; that by order from him I am come to Sevil; and that I have spent most part of my Life in Flanders, where I have, by my Services, attain'd to the highest Commands in the Army, and gotten a Com∣mandery of Saint James. This is a short ac∣count of what I now am, what I would be while I live, it lies on you, Madam, to give me leave, in some less publick place than this is, to assure you. That shall be as soon as I may conveni∣ently do it, replies Dorothea; in the mean time, trouble not your self to get any further knowledge of me, unless you will run the ha∣zard of never knowing me for your friend: onely take this for your present satisfaction, that I am a person of quality, and that my face is such as will not frighten any body.

Don Sancho was satisfy'd, and having, with a low Congee, taken his leave of her, he thrust him∣self in among a great number of fine Gallants, who were very seriously discoursing together. There are a sort of severe Ladies, who may be more particularly known by the character I shall here give of them, to wit, such as extremely con∣cern themselves in the conduct and demeanour of others, and are very secure as to their own; who imagine themselves the onely fit Judges of what is well or ill done, though there may be good wa∣gers laid of their virtue, as a thing whereof there is no great certainty, and think that upon the dis∣covery of a little brutish rudeness, they my pre∣tend to supererogation in point of Honour, though the miscarriages of their greener years gave more Page  238 scandal, than their wrinkles will ever good exam∣ple; these Ladies, I say, who are very short-sighted in the ordinary occurrences of humane Life, will take occasion to quarrel at the Author, and affirm, that Madam Dorothea was guilty of a great want of reserv'dness, and indiscretion, not onely in being so over-free to favour a person whom she onely knew by sight, but also in per∣mitting him to speak to her of Love, and that if a young Gentlewoman, over whom they had any power, had done as much, she should make no long aboad in this world. But let these yet-to-be-taught Ladies learn from me, that every Country hath its particular customs, and that if in France, England, and some other parts, married Women and Maids, who are trusted to go any where upon the security of their own good behaviour, are of∣fended, or at least should be so, at any the least expression of Love; in Spain, where they are kept in as Nuns, they take it not amiss that any one should tell them they love them, though the person that should tell them so, had not any thing for which he might expect a return of his Love. Nay, they do much more, they are the Ladies com∣monly that make the first overtures, and are first taken, inasmuch as they are the last seen, by their Gallants, whom they have the advantage to see daily, in Churches, and other publick places, and sometimes from their Balconies and Chamber-windows.

Dorothea acquainted her Sister Feliciana with the discourse had pass'd between her and Don Sancho, and made no difficulty to tell her, that she was more taken with that Stranger, than with all Page  239 the Gallants of Sevil, and her Sister approv'd the design she had upon her Liberty. Thereupon the two fair Sisters had a great deal of serious discourse together, concerning the advantageous priviledges which the Men have above the Women, who were seldome married without the consent of their Friends, which many times happen'd contrary to their liking, whereas the Men were at liberty to make choice, where they best fancied.

For my part, says Dorothea to her Sister, I am confi∣dent, Love shall never be able to make me do any thing contrary to my duty; but I am on the other side fully resolv'd never to be married to a Man, who shall not alone be possess'd of what∣ever I could wish in several others, and I had rather spend my Life in a Monastery, than in the company of a Husband I could not affect.
Fe∣liciana told her Sister, that she had taken the same resolution, and they confirm'd one the other therein, with all the fine arguments, which their ingenuity could furnish them with, upon that oc∣casion. Dorothea found it some difficulty to make good the promise she had made Don Sancho, of discovering her self to him, and acquainted her Sister how much she was troubled thereat: but Feliciana, who was very fortunate in finding out expedients, put her Sister in mind, that a certain Lady, a Kinswoman of theirs, and one of their most intimate friends (for all of ones Kinred are not such) would do her all the service lay in her power, in a business wherein her quiet was so much concern'd.
You know, says this best-natur'd Sister in the world, that Marina, who hath liv'd with us so ma•• years, is now married Page  140 to a Surgeon, who hath taken of our Kinswoman a little House adjoyning to her own, and that there is a common Entry between both. The place where they stand is a remote street not much frequented, and though it should be ob∣serv'd, that we visited our Kinswoman oftener than we had been wont, there would be no no∣tice taken of Don Sancho's going into a Sur∣geons, besides that the business may be so con∣triv'd, that he may come thither onely in the night, and disguis'd.

While Dorothea, with the assistance of her Sister, was contriving how to compass this amo∣rous interview; while she was disposing her Kins∣woman to serve her, and preparing Instructions for Marina, Don Sancho's thoughts were wholly taken up with the unknown Lady. One while he is in suspence whether the promise she had made him, that he should hear from her, were not an abuse; another, he imagin'd, that there was some∣what in her last words which discover'd a certain kindness towards him. He saw her every day, though he knew her not, in the Churches or some other publick places, receiving the adorations of her Gallants, who were all his intimate acquaint∣ance, and the greatest friends he had in Sevil. He was one morning putting on his cloaths, his thoughts full of his unknown Mistress, when a messge was brought, that there was a woman de∣sir'd to speak with him. Being conducted to his chamber, he receiv'd from her, this

Page  141


THat you heard not sooner from me, attri∣bute not to any remission of that kindness I express'd to you at our first meeting, but purely to want of convenience. If you still persist in a desire to be better known to me, re∣ceive directions from the Bearer, where you are to meet her in the evening, and she will conduct you to the place, where I shall be ready to re∣ceive you.

It may be easily imagin'd how gladly he enter∣tain'd this message, His transportation was such, that he could not forbear embracing that happy Ambassadress, and he presented her with a Gold chain, which, after some ceremony, she receiv'd from him. She appointed him to meet her at a certain place in the dusk of the Evening, leaving him the most satisfy'd, but withall the most im∣patient man in the world. At last night came; he went to the place where the morning Ambassa∣dress expected him, trick'd up and perfum'd as if he had spent the whole day about it. He was con∣ducted by her to a little obscure House, which look'd somewhat suspitiously, and thence into a noble large Room, where he found three Ladies, all veil'd. He discover'd his unknown Mistress by her Stature, and immediately broke forth into complaints, that she would not vouchsafe to un∣veil her self. She staid not for any further intrea∣ties, Page  242 whereupon she and her Sister uncovering their faces, Don Sancho knew them to be the fair Sisters, Dorothea and Feliciana de Monsalvo.

You are now convinc'd, says the Elder to him, taking off her Veil, that I told you but truth, when I assur'd you, that a Stranger might some∣times obtain that in a minute, which those Gal∣lants whom a Lady sees every day should not deserve in many years: but I would have you withall consider with your self, that you will be the most ungrateful of all Men, if you do not highly esteem the favour I shew you, or pass any censure of it to my disadvantage, though I told you such things might be the effect of a fan∣tastick humour. I shall ever value what I re∣ceive from you, as if it were sent me from Hea∣ven, says the passionate Don Sancho, and you shall find, by the care I shall take to preserve the kindness you do me, that if I ever lose it, it will not be my negligence, but my misfor∣tune.

This sharp onset was as eagerly pursu'd on both sides, to the mutual satisfaction of the two Lo∣vers; which the Mistress of the house and Feli∣ciana perceiving, took occasion to stand at a con∣siderable distance from them, and so they had all the convenience they could have wish'd, to coun∣ter-charge one the other with amorous comple∣ments, and heighten the flames they had already rais'd in each other; nay, though the Love there was between them, might be accounted, consider∣ing the little time of their acquaintance, very great, yet would they appoint another day, to make some additionals thereto, if any might be admit∣ted. Page  243Dorothea promis'd Don Sancho that she would endeavour to see him as often as she could: he return'd her his most humble thanks, with all the Rhetorick he was master of.

Upon this cessation of discourse, the two other Ladies came up to them, and they fell into it a∣fresh, and continu'd the kind engagement, so long, that Marina thought it time to mind them of their departure. Dorothea was troubled at that alarm, and Don Sancho grew pale and silent; but there was a necessity of parting. The transported Cavalier took occasion the next day, to write a Letter to his Mistress, and sent it by the common Ambassadress Marina, and she return'd him such an Answer thereto, as he could have wish'd. I shall forbear inserting their amorous Epistles here, because there never came any of them to my hands, and I am loath to foist in any of my own dressing, out of a fear they might not prove as good as theirs. They had many interviews after∣wards at the same place, and they spent the time, as they had done at the first, and so by a continu'd progress, their Loves came up to that fervency, that, abating their not shedding their blood as Pyramus and Thisbe are recorded to have done, they were not behind them▪ as to a violent tender∣ness one for another. 'Tis commonly said, that Love, Fire, and Money cannot be long conceal'd. Dorothea, who was in a manner transported with continual thoughts of her lovely Stranger, could not speak of him with any moderation, nay, she commended him so highly beyond all the Gentle∣men of Sevil, that some Ladies, who would have carried on their designs secretly as she did, hearing Page  144 her incessantly speaking of Don Sancho, and pre∣ferring him so as to cast a certain contempt on those they fancied, took-notice of it, and were offended. Feliciana had often privately advis'd her, to speak of him with more caution and re∣serv'dness; nay, many times, in company, when she saw her transported with the pleasure she took in discoursing of her Gallant, had trod on her foot so hard as to make her cry out, and find somewhat else to talk of.

These discoveries were at last so observ'd, that a certain Cavalier, a Suitor of Dorothea's, had notice given him thereof, by a Lady he was inti∣mately acquainted with. He was the more easily induc'd to believe, that Dorothea had a more than ordinary kindness for Don Sancho, when he con∣sider'd, that ever since the coming of that Stranger to the City, those who accounted themselves the Slaves of that fair Lady, of which number he thought himself the most heavily chain'd, had not receiv'd the least favourable look from her. This Rival of Don Sancho's was a person of great wealth, descended of a noble House, and much in favour with Don Manuel, who yet was the more backward to press his Daughter to mrry him, in regard that when ever he spoke to her of it, her answer was, that she wanted two or three years of being ripe for that state.

This same young Gentleman (now his name comes into my head, Don Diego) before he en∣gag'd himself in an action which might be charg'd with imprudence, thought it requisite to be fully assur'd of a thing, which yet he did onely suspect. He had a very spruce fellow that waited on him in Page  145 his Chamber, one of those insolent attendants who think it is for their Master's credit that they wear as good Linnen as themselves, or at least wear theirs; and all, that they may be the more gracious in the eyes of the waiting women. This Servant's name was Guzman; he pretended much to ingenuity, out of a conceit that it had been de∣riv'd to him from that Country-man of his, whose adventures are so famous; but having, among other endowments, a smattering in Poetry, he employ'd his Talent in composing such Romances as in other Countries are known by the name of Ballads. He sung them playing on his Gitthar, but so wretchedly, that his wry mouths and the stretching out of his tongue, spoil'd the discord, at least to those that look'd on him. He had also the graceful knack of dancing a Saraband, and never went without his Castagnets. He had once some intentions to turn Comedian, but some∣what in his humour was not lik'd, for he was very much addicted to Vapouring and Hectorship, and to give you a true character of him, there was some suspition of his nocturnal atchievements, as being one who would bid people stand with as much confidence as a Constable, but with this greater civility, that he would dismiss their persons, and secure onely what he found about them.

All these excellent Talents, heighten'd by a little eloquence, which reach'd onely so far as he had read, and what he heard from his Master, made all the Waiting-women, even those who pretended to somewhat of Beauty, look on him as the blank (if I may make that comparison) of their amo∣rous desires. Don Diego gave him instructions to Page  246 go and court Isabella, a young Maid who waited on the two beautiful Sisters. He went, and in∣sinuated himself so far into Isabella's favour, that she thought her self the happiest creature in the world, to be lov'd by Guzman, nay, the kindness they had one for another grew to such a degree, that he became very earnest in the continuance of what he had begun onely to obey his Master. I∣sabella had so well feather'd her Nest in her ser∣vice, that she might well be accounted a good fortune, for the proudest attendant of any in Spain. Her Mistresses treated her very kindly, and were very liberal to her, besides somewhat she had to expect from her Father, who was an honest Tradesman. In fine, Guzman thought it his best course to make sure of her, by proposing a match; she was as willing as he was, and took him at his word; they made one another mutual promises of marriage, and ever after liv'd together as if the ceremonies had pass'd between them.

Things standing thus, Isabella began to con∣ceive an extream indignation against Marina, the Surgeon's wife, at whose house Don Sancho and Dorothea had their private meetings, and it trou∣bled her much, that though she had liv'd with her Mistress before her, she should still be her Confi∣dent in a business of that nature, wherein the li∣berality of a favour'd Lover is very considerable. She had heard of the Gold chain which Don San∣cho had bestow'd on Marina, as also of several other presents he had made her, and imagin'd she might have receiv'd many more, which she knew nothing of. This rais'd a deadly hatred in her against Marina, which makes me think, that the Page  247 pretty Gentlewoman was not a little troubled. It is not therefore to be wondred, if, upon the first Interrogatories which Guzman made to her, and particularly this, whether it were true that Dorothea was in love with any one, she should dis∣cover the secrets of her Mistress, to a person, whom she look'd on as part of her self. She ac∣quainted him with all she knew of the designs of our young Lovers, Don Sancho's liberality to Ma∣rina, whom he enrich'd by his continual presents, till at last she broke forth into down-right railing at her, as one that made those advantages, which should rather have been receiv'd by a Servant that liv'd in the house. Guzman intreated her to give him notice of the next meeting they were to have there. She did so, and he fail'd not to give his Master an account of it, as also of all had been told him by the perfidious Isabella.

Upon this intelligence Don Diego put himself into the habit of a Beggar, and laid himself down in the street not far from Marina's door, into which he saw his Rival enter, and not long after came a Coach, out of which alighted Dorothea and her Sister, and went into the same House, leaving Don Diego in a great rage, to see what he could not then remedy. He went home, and re∣solv'd to rid himself of so formidable a Rival. Having hir'd some of those, whose profession it is to murther any they are set upon, (a sort of peo∣ple may be as easily procur'd in Spain, as Porters in other places) he expected Don Sancho several nights together, and at last meeting with him, he set upon him, seconded by two of those mer∣cenary Hectors, as well arm'd as himself. Don Page  148 Sancho, on the other side, was reasonably well provided for them, as having about him, besides Sword and Poniard, a case of Pistols charg'd. He defended himself at first as a Lion, and found that his enemies had this advantage of him, that they defi'd any thing he could do with his Sword. Don Diego press'd upon him more than the others, who, being hir'd men, behav'd themselves accordingly. He retreated still all he could, to remove the noise of the engagement farther from the house where his Dorothea was: but at last fearing to endanger himself too far, and finding Don Diego still vio∣lently pursuing him, he discharg'd one of his Pi∣stols, upon which he fell down half dead, and call'd as loud as he could for a Confessor, and the two Hectors immediately vanish'd. Don Sancho got to his own lodging, and the neighbours came out into the street and found Don Diego, whom they knew, ready to depart this life, and charging Don Sancho with his death. He had soon notice of it by his friends, who told him, that though he might clear himself upon the judicial proceedings which might be brought against him, yet Don Diego's friends would be sure to revenge his death, and find out some way or other to kill him. He retir'd into a Monastery, whence he gave his Mistress an account how his affairs stood, and set all things in order to his departure from Sevil, as soon as he might do it safely. A strict search was made for Don Sancho, but he could not be found. The heat of it being over, and all persuaded that he had made an escape, Dorothea and her Sister, under pretence of some Devotion, were conducted by their Kinswoman, at whose house they had met, to Page  249 the Monastery, where Don Sancho was, and there, by the means of one of the Religious men, the two Lovers had an enterview in a private Chapel. Af∣ter some discourse, they made mutual promises one to the other of a constant fidelity, and parted with so much regret, and such melting expressions, that her Sister, her Kinswoman, and the Religious man, who were witnesses thereof, not onely wept then, but could never since think of it without tears.

Having deliver'd certain Letters to his Father's factor, to be sent to him to the Indies, he left Se∣vil, in a disguise. In those Letters he acquainted him with the accident, which had occasion'd his departure from Sevil, and that he intended for Naples. He got well thither, and was nobly en∣tertain'd by the Vice-Roy, who, among the many favours he did him, honour'd him with a near re∣lation to his person. But the main satisfaction was wanting, that of hearing from his dear Dorothea, so that within a year he grew weary of the kindness of his entertainment, and wish'd for some oppo∣tunity to leave Naples. He expected not long; for the Vice-Roy being to send out a small Squadron of six Gallies against the Turk, Don Sancho's cou∣rage would not let slip so fair an occasion to exercise it self. He was receiv'd, to the great satis∣faction of the Commander, who was glad to have a person of his worth and quality abord him. This Squadron of Naples met with eight Turkish Gl∣lies, almost in sight of Messina, and engg'd them. After a long sight, the Christian Gallies took three of the enemies, and sunk two. The Admiral of the Christian Gallies was engag'd against that of Page  250 the Turks, which being better arm'd and mann'd tan any of the rest, had accordingly made the greater resistance. In the mean time, the wind began o rise, and the sea to grow rough, so that both Christians and Turks thought it concern'd them more to secure themselves against the Tem∣pest, than any further to prosecute the Engage∣ment. They jointly loos'd the Grapling-irons, whereby the two Gallies were fastned together, and the Turksh Admiral parted from the Chri∣stian, jst s Don Sancho had cast himself into it, no follow'd by any body. Finding himself all alone amongst his enemies, he thought death to be preferr'd before slavery, and, what ever might be the consequence of it, cast himself into the Sea, hoping to recover the Christian Gallies by swim∣ming. But the weather prov'd such, that he could not be perceiv'd, though the Christian General, who had been witness of Don Sancho's action, and was extremely enrag'd at his loss, which he thought unavoidable, caus'd the Gallie to tack about to∣wards the place where he had cast himself over∣board. In the mean time Don Sancho made his way through the waves, and having swum a good way towards the shore, assisted by the wind and tide, he fortunately lighted on a plank of one of the Turkish Gallies, and with the help of it got to land on the cost of Sicily. Having return'd God his humble thanks for so great a deliverance, he made towards a little hamlet inhabited by some poor Fisher-men, who gave him the best enter∣tinment they could. The extraordinary actions he had done in the engagement, what he ad suffer'd in the Sea, and the cold he endur'd, and his walk∣ing Page  251 afterwards in his wet cloaths, brought him into a violent feaver, which forc'd him to keep his bed for many days; yet at last, without any trouble of Physicians he recover'd his former health. During his sickness, he made a resolution to continue the world in the persuasion of his death; as well that he might be in less fear of his enemies, the Relations of Don Diego, as make a further trial of the fidelity of his Dorothea.

During the time of his aboad in Flanders, he had contracted an intimate friendship with a Si∣cilian Marquess, of the house of Montalto, whose name was Fabiano. He sent one of the Fishermen to Messina, where he liv'd, to enquire whether he were then in the Country; and answer being brought him, that he was there, he went thither, habited as a Fisher-man, and, in the night, goes to the Marquess's house, who, with all others to whom he was known, bewail'd his death. The Marquess was over-joy'd to meet with a friend, whom he had given over for lost. Don Sancho gave him an account how miraculously he had escaped, as also of his adventures at Sevil, and particularly the violent passion he had for the Lady Dorothea de Monsalvo. The Sicilian Marquess proffer'd to go along with him into Spain, and to bring away Dorothea, if she would consent, into Sicily. Don Sancho was extremely well pleased with the proposal, yet would not receive from his friend so dangerous demonstrations of his friendship, telling him, that he would be infinitely glad of his com∣pany into Spain, but for what might be the conse∣quence of it, he would remit all to fortune.

Don Sancho had a servant, of whose fidelity he Page  252ad had many years experience. This fellow, whose name was Sanchez, took his Master's loss so heavily, that when the Christian Gallies, which had been in the former Engagement against the Turks, put in at Messina, to refresh themselves, he came ashoe and got into a Monastery, with a resolution to send the reminder of his days there. The MarqueFabiano hving heard of the relation 〈◊〉•••mes had to Don Sancho, sent to the Su∣periour of the Monastery, (who indeed had en∣tertin'd him upon the recommendation of that Sicilian Lord) desiring he might be dismiss'd, which was easily granted, in regard he had not yet put on the habit of the Religion▪ Sanchez not knowing what might be the occasion of his dis∣mission, made some difficulty to come out; but when he was brought into the presence of his dear Master, his soul was too narrow for his joy, for having cast himself at his feet, there was a ne∣cessity of some assistance to help him up again.

Some days after, he was sent by Don Sancho into Spain, to make preparations for his coming thi∣ther, and particularly to give him an account of Dorohea, who, in the mean time, was persuaded, with all others, that Don Sancho was dead. Nay the report of his death soon flew into the Indies. Don Sancho's father di'd out of grief, not long af∣ter he had receiv'd that sad news, and left another Son he had four hundred thousand Crowns, con∣ditionally, that his Brother should have the one moiety of that summe, in case the news of his death should prove false. This Brother of Don Sancho's was called Don Juhan de Peralto. He took shipping for Spain, with this vast sum of Page  253 mony, besides abundance of rare Indian commo∣dities, sutable to the magnificence of a person, who had been Governour of a considerable place in those parts, and arrived safely at Sevil, about a year after the accident, which had happened to Don Sancho. Going under a name much different from his Brother's, it was easie for him to conceal the relation he had to him, besides the particula concernment he had to keep it secret, by reason of the long stay his occasions might oblige him to make in a City, where his Brother had so many enemies. He chanc'd to have a sight of Dorothea, and fell in love with her, as his Brother had done, but with this difference, that she made him no re∣turn of his love. That afflicted Beauty could fancy nothing after the loss of her dear Don Sancho: whatever was done by Don Juhan de Peralto, instead of pleasing, was the greatest trouble in the wold to her, nay she daily refus'd the best Matches about Sevil, which were earnestly propos'd to her by her Father Don Manuel.

Much about that time Sanchez comes to Sevil, and, according to the instructions he hd re∣ceiv'd from his Master, secrely made the best en∣quiry he could, how the Lady Dorothea had be∣hav'd her self, since their departure thence. He was soon inform'd by common report, that a young Gentleman, of very great wealth, ltely come from the Indies, was fallen in love with her, and made the most magnificent discoveries of his af∣fection that a passionate Sutor could imagine. He writ to his Master, representing things much worse than they were, and his Master imagin'd them yet worse than his Man had represented them. He Page  254 communicated the whole business to the Marquess, expressing so great a distraction at the account he receiv'd of his Mistress, that he was in some suspence whether he should see her any more. His friend comforted him the best he could, telling him, that it was not impossible but his man might be mis-inform'd, and that the affairs of his love might be in a much better posture than he expected. The reasons urg'd by the Marquess, together with his own reflections on the mutual promises of fidelity that had pass'd between them, especially the en∣dearing expressions at their parting, dispell'd those clouds of suspition, and represented his Dorothea as faithful and constant to him as she had engag'd to be. They thereupon resolv'd for Spain, and embark'd themselves at Messina in some Spanish Gallies, and in a short time happily arrived at St. Lucar's whence they took post for Sevil. They came into the City after night, and alighted at the house which Sanchez had taken for them. They stirr'd not out all the next day, but as soon as it was night, Don Sancho and the Marquess went their rounds, about the place where Don Manuel liv'd. They heard some people setting their Instruments in tune, under Dorothea's win∣dows, and soon after very excellent Musick, and that having ceas'd, a single Voice join'd to a Theorboe, made heavy complaints of the cruelty of a Tygress disguis'd into an Angel. Don Sancho felt some temptations within himself to spoil all the harmony of the Serenade, and to send away the Musicians with fleas in their ears: but the Marquess prevail'd with him to forbear, repre∣senting to him that he could have done no more, Page  255 if his Mistress had appear'd in the Balcony, to as∣sure his Rival, that she was not displeas'd with his Courtship; or the words of the Air, which had been sung, were acknowledgments of kindnesses receiv'd, rather than complaints of a dis-satisfi'd Lover. The Author of the Serenade, and his Company, went away, in all probability, not over-satisfi'd with what they had done, as having not so much as the stirring of a dog, to assure them that any body regarded their Musick: and Don Sancho and the Marquess, finding the coast clear, return'd to their quarters, where they had a long debate what construction they should make of the preten∣sions of this new Sutor. Don Sancho was inclin'd to a persuasion, that his Dorothea might have some secret kindness for him, though, for some reasons which hindred her from making any shew of it at that time, she seem'd to take no notice of his Courtship, especially when he consider'd, that she might, with all the others, be assur'd of his death. On the contrary, the Marquess entreated him to suspend his belief of her being engag'd to any other, till he had made some fuller discoveries thereof.

Don Sancho submitted to the remonstrances of his friend, and that the rather, when it came into his mind, that the greatest expressions of coutship made by one, whose person is not affected, are so much the more importunate. And indeed so were those of the Indian Cavalier, to the fair Dorothea, who was so far from giving him any encourage∣ment by her acceptance, that he could not but per∣ceive they were more and more troublesome to her. Her Father Don Manuel was extremely de∣sirous Page  256 to see her disposed in marriage, and she doubted not, but that if the Indian Cavalier, Don Juhan de Peralto, being a person so well descended, and so wealthy, should proffer himself for a Son-in-law, he would be preferr'd before all others, and she more earnestly press'd by her Father to accept of him than she had been.

The next day after the Serenade, whereof the Marquess Fabiano and Don Sancho had had their part, Dorothea took occasion to confer notes with her Sister, concerning Don Juhan, and his court∣ship, and told her, that she could not brook the gallantries of that conceited Indian, and thought it the strangest thing in the world, he should make such publick demonstrations of his love to her, be∣fore he had made any overtures thereof of her Father.

'Tis such a kind of procedure, says Fe∣liciana to her, as I should never approve of, and if your case were mine, I should give him such an entertainment, upon the first opportunity that presented it self, as might immediately dash all the hopes, he had conceiv'd of ever pleasing you. For my own part, continu'd she, I could never fancy his person; he has not that delicacy, and insinuation of carriage, which is acquirable one∣ly at Court, and the vast expences he is at here in Sevil, argue not so much the nobleness of his disposition, as the extravagant and salvage hu∣mour of that yet unciviliz'd part of the world whence he came. It is observ'd, that those parts of the world which suply us with gold and silver, are most barren as to the other productions of nature; so those people that inhabit them, think they need no other recommendation, than what Page  257 they derive from the entrails of certain almost inaccessible Mountains, created onely for the punishment of Slaves and Malefactors. All your Servant's actions smell so strongly of the Indian, that he must be allow'd some years, to refine the barbarism of the Climate he hath liv'd in so long, before he can be reduc'd to the civility of this, wherein we have had our education. If ever you grant him the favour to speak to you, advise him to study the courting of a Lady after another manner then he hath been taught among the To∣pinambous, and then you may promise to hear what he shall have to say for himself.

This was partly the character she gave Don Juhan de Peralto, which she deliver'd with such bitterness and derision, that Dorothea could do no less than wonder at it. It seems the scornful young Lady had clearly forgotten, that upon his first appearance at Sevil, she had confess'd to her Sister, that she lik'd him well enough, and when ever she had occasion to speak of him, she was as liberal of her commendations, as she was now of her reproaches. Dorothea observing her Sister so much chang'd, or at least seeming to be, as to the sentiments she sometimes had for the Indian Cavalier, immediately imagin'd, that her inclina∣tion towards him might be the greater, the more earnest she seem'd to have it thought, that she had not any. To be more fully assur'd of it, she told Feliciana, that she was not displeas'd with the gallantries of Don Juhan, out of any aversion she had for his person, nay, on the contrary, observing in his countenance somewhat of the air of Don Sancho's, she might prefer him before any other Page  258 Cavalier about Sevil; besides she doubted not, but that, having all the advantages of birth and for∣tune, he would easily get her Father's consent.

But to what end, continu'd she, should I fancy to my self these imaginary pleasures? I have lost Don Sancho, and since it was not my fortune to be his wife, I am resolv'd never to be any other man's, and therefore, to avoid all future ad∣dresses, my onely course will be to spend the rest of my days in some Monastery. Ah Sister, says Feliciana, though you were not fully re∣solv'd upon so strange a design, yet could you not give me a stranger affliction than by telling me of it. That I am so resolv'd, Sister, you may be assur'd, replies Dorothea; but for your part, you have the less reason to be troubled at it, in regard it will be to your advantage, for, by that means, you will be the most considerable fortune about Sevil. Upon this account it was, that I had a desire to see Don Juhan, that I might per∣suade him, to address that courtship to you, which he vainly bestows on me, after I have convinc'd him of the impossibility there is, that we should ever be married together. What may be the consequences of his applications to you, Time onely can discover; Love is full of vicissitudes, and there is not so great a distance between af∣fection and aversion, but that one of them may tread on the heels of the other. Nay, to deal sisterly, that is, freely, with you, I am not a little troubled, to find you express so much of the lat∣ter, towards a person, who is so far from de∣serving it, that he might justly expect somewhat of kindness from you, both as a Stranger, and Page  259 one that hath not run the the hazard of displea∣sing you, by any presumptuous demonstration of his love. Think what you please of my judg∣ment in this case, but this it is, that I do not see any person about Sevil, with whom you might he more advantageously match'd than with him. I must confess, I look on him, rather with a cer∣tain indifference than aversion, says Feliciana, and when I told you, that I could not fancy him, it was more out of complaisance to you, than any real prejudice I had against him. Nay if it be so, Sister, replies Dorothea, you are rather to acknowledge, that you deal not ingenuously with me, and that when you express'd the little esteem you had for Don Juhan, it was clearly out of your mind, that you had sometime very highly commended him to me; or I am to conclude, that what you have said since, betrai'd not so much your own dislike of him, as your fear of his being too well lik'd by me.

Feliciana blush'd at these last words of her Si∣ster, and was vex'd to the heart. Her thoughts were in such a distraction, that she spoke abun∣dance of things, which rather betrai'd her guilt, then contributed ought to her vindication; so that at last she was forc'd to confess, that she had a more than ordinary kindness for Don Juhan. Doro∣rothea encourag'd her to continue it, and promis'd to assist her all she could in the prosecution of her love. Having thus brought her to acknowledge what she before but suspected, she took compassi∣on of her, and forbore all further reproaches.

That very day, Isabella, who had discarded her beloved Guzman, ever since the unhappy accident Page  260 that had happen'd to Don Sancho, receiv'd orders from her Mistress Dorothea, to go to Don Juhan de Peralto, deliver him the key of one of the garden doors of Don Manuel, to tell him, that she and her Sister would expect him there, with a charge, that he should not fail to be at the place appoint∣ed, at mid-night, before which time, it was likely their Father would be abed. Isabella, who had been already corrupted by Don Juhan, and done all lay in her power, to bring him into her Mi∣stress's favour, but to no purpose, was extremely surpriz'd to see her humour so chang'd, and not a little glad, to be the messenger of such good news to a person, of whom, though she had not brought him any before, she had yet receiv'd many great presents. No doubt then but she made all the haste she could to the lodgings of the amorous Ca∣valier, who had receiv'd so little encouragement before, that he could hardly have believ'd his own good fortune, had it not been for the convincing assurance of the key, which she deliver'd him. That key open'd a place it was never intended it should, I mean the breast of the amorous Gallant, who presented his faithful Sollicitress with a perfum'd purse lin'd with a hundred good yellow pieces, which glorious sight rais'd in her as much fatisfa∣ction as she had brought him.

Were there a constant current of good fortune, that is, no vicissitude in humane affairs, and that what ever were fortunately begun might, without any rub or disaster, be brought to its period of happiness, there should be much less work for those who write Romances and Novels, and so the world would be depriv'd of a great deal of that Page  261 pleasure which is deriv'd from endeavors of that kind. But their delight wholly consisting in a certain conflict, and interfering of unexpected accidents, 'tis likely there will be a constant supply of such things, as long as mortals shall walk on this Mole-hill, as on a Chess-board, perpetually contriving how to cross the designs of one ano∣ther.

Whoever shall seriously consider this grave ad∣vertisement, will not think it strange, that, the very same night, Don Juhan was to come into Don Manuel's Garden, to meet with the two Sisters, Don Sancho, accompany'd by his friend, the Mar∣quess, should be walking their rounds about Doro∣thea's Lodgings, to be more fully satisfy'd of the designs of his Rival. It was no otherwise, and it will ever be a maxim, That one man's misfortune makes another man's sport. About eleven that night, the Marquess and he being gotten into that street, where Dorothea liv'd, four men well arm'd came up and posted themselves close by them. The jealous Don Sancho presently imagin'd it was his Rival, whereupon coming nearer them, he told them that the Post they had taken up, was very convenient for him, in order to the compassing of a design he was then engag'd in, and so desir'd them to quit it.

We should do it, Sir, reply'd one of them, without much intreaty, if the sme Post, you are so desirous of, were not absolu••ly necessary for the carrying on of a design tht we also have, and will be so soon disp••ch'd, that it will not much retard the execution of yours.

Don Sancho was as much enrag'd at this, as if Page  262 it had been the most uncivil answer that could have been given upon such an occasion: to draw there∣fore, and to charge persons, whom he thought so disobliging, was the same thing with him. That unexpected assault of Don Sancho's, surpris'd and put them into disorder, and the Marquess beha∣ving himself no less gallantly than his Friend had done, they defended themselves so poorly, that they were in a trice beaten out of the street. Don Sancho receiv'd a slight wound in his arm, and run him who had given it him so heartily through the body, that it was a good while ere he could get out his Sword again, and doubted not but he had dispatch'd him. The Marquess in the mean time was in pursuit of the others, who ran away as fast as they could, as soon as they saw their Camerade laid on the ground.

Having rid themselves of those spies, Don San∣cho look'd about him, and perceiv'd at one end of the street some people with a Light, coming up towards them, upon the noise of their engage∣ment. He was afraid it might be the Magistrate with his Officers, and it was no other. He made all the haste he could into the street, where they began to fight, and thence into another, in the midst whereof he met full but with an old Gentle∣man, who had a Lantern with him, and had drawn his Sword upon the noise which Don Sancho made by running towards him. The old Gentleman was Don Manuel, who had been at a Neighbour's house at play, as he was wont to do every day, and was then going to his own, by the Garden-door, which was not far from the place where he met Don Sancho. He call'd out to the amorous Cava∣lier, Page  263 Who goes there?

A man, replies Don Sancho, whom it concerns to make all the haste he can away, and therefore desires you would not hinder him. It may be, says Don Manuel, there is some accident happen'd, which obliges you to seek out for sanctuary; fear nothing, my House, which is here hard by, may serve your turn. 'Tis very true, replies Don Sancho, I am somewhat at a loss how to avoid the pursuit of the Magistrate, who it may be is now making a search for me; but since you are so generous as to proffer me, though a Stranger to you, a re∣ception upon so dangerous a score as this, I ac∣cept of your kindness, and entrust you with my safety, with this promise, never to forget the favour you do me, and to press it no farther, than till such time as those who look after me are pass'd by.

They were by this time come to the Garden-door; Don Manuel open'd it with a Key he had about him, and having brought in Don Sancho, he dispos'd him into a close Arbour, while he went into the House to take order for his more secret retirement, so as that none might know of his being there. Don Sancho had not been long in the Arbour, when he perceives coming towards him a Woman, who approaching spoke softly to him,

O Sir, are you come, my Mistress Dorothea stays for you.
From that word Don Sancho imagin'd that he might be in the house of his Mi∣stress, and that the old Gentleman, who had brought him in thither, was her Father. He pre∣sently suspected that Dorothea had appointed his Rival to meet her there, and follow'd Isabella,Page  264 more tormented with jealousie, than troubled about the pursuit of the Magistrate.

In the mean time Don Juhan came, according to his appointment, precisely at the hour assign'd him, opened the Garden-door with the Key he had receiv'd from Isabella, and went into the same Arbour, out of which Don Sancho was but newly gone. He had not been there long, ere he per∣ceives a Man coming streight towards him; he put himself into a posture of defence, for fear he might be assaulted, and was not a little surpris'd, when he found that Man to be Don Manuel, who bid him follow him, assuring him he should be so dispos'd of, as that he need not fear being disco∣ver'd. Don Juhan concluded from Don Manuel's words, that he might possibly have receiv'd into his Garden some Gentleman pursu'd by the Offi∣cers of Justice. He could do no less than follow him, giving him thanks all along as they went for the favour he shew'd him: but it may be withall conjectur'd, that he was not so much troubled, at the hazard he was running into, as the obstruction whereby his amorous design was disappointed. Don Manuel brought him into his own Chamber, and, having left him there, went out, and or∣dered a Bed to be made for himself, in another room.

We will leave him lock'd up where he is, ex∣tremely troubled, yet not daring to make the least discovery of it, and see, what is become of his Brother Don Sancho de Sylva. Isabella brought him into a Ground-room, which look'd into the Garden, where the two Sisters Dorothea and Fe∣liciana expected Don Juhan de Peralto; one, as a Page  265 Lover, whom she was very desirous to please; the other, to assure him that she could not have any kindness for him, and to persuade him he would do better to make his applications to her Sister. Don Sancho enters the room where the two fair Sisters were; they were frightned at his appearance. Dorothea stood like a statue, as if she had not been able to stir from the place; but her Sister fearing she could not continue long in that posture, dispos'd her into a Chair, lest she might have fallen down all along. Don Sancho after he had fix'd his Eyes on them, stuck to the place he was in: Isabella was ready to sink into the ground for fear, and imagin'd it might be the Ghost of Don Sancho, that appear'd to them, to revenge the injury his Mistress did him. Feli∣ciana, though much startled to see him risen from the dead, was yet more troubled at what had hap∣pened to her Sister, who being come to her self, Don Sancho took her by the hand, and made this discourse to her.

Ungrateful Dorothea! if the Report which hath been spread of my death did not in some measure excuse your inconstancy, the affliction I conceive thereat would not allow me Life enough to make you the deserv'd reproaches of it. I was willing the world should be persua∣ded that I was dead, that I might be forgotten by my enemies, not by you, who had engag'd your self not to love any other besides me. But how have you broken that promise! I see there needs onely but a common Report of some un∣fortunate accident, to make a Woman forget all engagements of fidelity, even to that person, Page  266 whom, of all the world, she onely pretended to fancy. I might easily be reveng'd, and make so great noise by my complaints and expostula∣tions, as should awake your Father, and give him directions how to find out the favour'd Gallant, whom you have dispos'd into some secret place about his House: but besotted Man that I am! I feel in my self still a certain fear to displease you, and am more troubled at the necessity you give me, not to love you any longer, than at the discovery I have made of your being in love with another. Make much of your dear Lover, O as false as fair Woman! make much of him I say, and fear no more di∣sturbances in your enjoyments, for you shall ere long be rid of a Man, who might, while you liv'd, have reproach'd your proving treacherous to him, even while he hazarded his Life to wait on you.

With these words Don Sancho would have quitted the room: but Dorothea stays him, and was going to vindicate her self, when Isabella comes running in to tell her, that her Master, Don Manuel, was coming after her. Don Sancho had onely time enough to get behind the door, and, while the Old man was chiding his Daughters that they had not been a-bed, and had his back towards the Chamber-door, made a shift to get out, and going back the same way into the Garden, went into the same Arbour where he had been before, and were preparing himself for what ever might happen, he expected a favourable opportunity to make his escape thence.

There are, no doubt, those, who think Love the Page  267 pleasantest thing in the world. But far is it from their imagination, that a Lover's constant court∣ships and adorations may at last be requited with contempt, scorns, frowns, and elusions, which require an extraordinary measure of patience and good nature to endure them. Little do they ap∣prehend, that a young Spark, after many years con∣tinu'd addresses, even when he thinks himself as it were within a barrs length of felicity, may, by some unexpected obstructions and disappoint∣ments, be tumbled into eternal disgrace, and all this occasion'd, not so much by any backwardness of his Mistress, as his own unhappy misappre∣hensions.

These were the reflections of the unfortunate Don Sancho, while Don Manuel was gone into his Daughter's chamber to fetch a Light, to bring in the Officers who were imperiously knocking at the Garden-door, upon the information they had re∣ceiv'd, that Don Manuel had entertain'd into his House one of those who had been fighting in the street. Don Manuel made no difficulty to let them in, to search his House, out of an assurance they would be so civil as not to look into his own Chamber, and that the Gentleman whom they expected to find, was safely lock'd in there. Don Sancho perceiving out of the Arbour, that it was impossible for him to escape the search of so many Officers as were scatter'd up and down the Gar∣den, comes out to Don Manuel, and whispers him in the ear, that a person of Honour would be more tender of his promise then to abandon one whom he had taken into his protection. Don Manuel, who was much surpris'd to find him there, entrea∣ted Page  268 the chief Officer, to leave Don Sancho, in his custody, till the next morning; which request was soon granted him, as well out of a respect to his quality, as for that the party, whom Don Sancho imagin'd he had kill'd, was not very dangerously wounded.

The Officers, having receiv'd somewhat to∣wards a morning's draught, took their leave, and departed; and Don Manuel, having discover'd by the same discourse which had pass'd between him and Don Sancho, when he first met him, that he must needs be the person whom he had receiv'd into his Garden, doubted not, but that the other was some Gallant, brought into the House, either by Isabella, or his Daughters. To be more fully satisfy'd of it, he conducted Don Sancho de Sylva into a room by himself, and desir'd him to stay there till he return'd again. He went to that place where he had left Don Juhan de Peralto, to whom he told a feign'd story, that his man was come into the House along with the Officers, and waited be∣low to speak with him. Don Juhan knew that his man lay very sick at that time, and not in a con∣dition to come to him, though he had known where he was, which he did not. He was therefore somewhat troubled at what Don Manuel had said to him, and so he had no other answer to make him, than that his mn should go and stay for him at his Lodging.

By this discourse and some others Don Manuel found him to be that young Gentleman lately come from the Indies, who was so much talk'd of about Sevil, and, being sufficiently inform'd as to his quality and estate, resolv'd, he should not go Page  269 out of the House ere he had married that Daugh∣ter of his, to whom he had ever so little address'd himself. He spent some further time in discourse with him, to be more fully satisfy'd as to some doubts, which then burthen'd his mind. Isabella stood all the while at the door, and over-heard them, and gave an account of all to her Mistresses. Don Manuel had a glimpse of her, and imagin'd she was come with some message to Don Juhan, from one of his Daughters. He left him, to run after her, just as the Wax-light, which was in the room, being at an end, went out of it self. While the Old man is groping to find out Isabella, she acquaints Dorothea and Feliciana, that Don Sancho was in their Father's chamber, and that she had seen them talking together. The two Sisters ran thither upon her word, Dorothea being not afraid to find her dear Don Sancho with her Father, re∣solv'd, as she was, to acknowledge, that she lov'd him, and that she had been lov'd by him, and withall to tell him, upon what motives she had appointed Don Juhan to come thither that night. She therefore goes into the room, which was with∣out any light, and having met with Don Juhan, just as he was coming out, she took him for Don Sancho, and having him fast by the arm, she thus expostulated with him.

Why dost thou avoid me, tygre-hearted Don Sancho! and why wouldst thou not what answer I should make to the undeserv'd reproaches thou hast made me! I must confess, thou could'st not bethink thy self of any too great for me, if I were as guilty as thou hast some grounds to imagine: but thou art not to learn, that there Page  270 are some false things, which have many times more likelihood of truth than truth it self, and that this latter is ever discover'd by time. Al∣low me but so much, as may shew thee that which will recover thee out of the confusion, in which thy own misfortune, and mine, and haply that of divers others, hath involv'd us both. Assist me to vindicate my self, and run not the hazard of being unjust, by an over-hastiness to condemn me, before thou hast found me really guilty. 'Tis possible thou maist have heard, that a certain Gentleman loves me; but hast thou heard that I made any return to his love? Thou maist have met him here; for it is true, that his coming hither was by my ap∣pointment; but when thou shalt understand what design I had in it, I am confident thou wilt have a cruel remorse, that thou should'st injure me, while I give the greatest assurance of fidelity I could. O that this importunate and troublesome Servant of mine were here before thee! thou shouldst find by the treatment I gave him, whether he ever had any ground to affirm, that I lov'd him, nay, whether he could ever so much as tell me that he lov'd me, or that I ever vouchsaf'd even the reading of any Letter that came from him. But that misfortune of mine, which always procur'd me the sight of him, when it should prejudice me, will not permit me to see him, when he might help to undeceive thee.

Don Juhan had the patience to suffer Dorothea to speak, without offering to interrupt her, that he might learn somewhat more than she had yet Page  271 discover'd to him. But perceiving she had given over, and expected some return from him, he was going to give her a sharp answer, when Don San∣cho, who was looking for the way into the Garden, and heard Dorothea speaking to Don Juhan, comes up close to her, making the least noise he could, yet not so as but that he was perceiv'd by Don Juhan and the two Sisters. They had not the time to speak one to another, ere Don Manuel comes into the room with a Light, which some of his Servants carried before him. The two Rival-Brothers look'd one on the other, and were ob∣serv'd to be in a posture ready to fall one upon the other, as having their hands on the hilts of their Swords. Don Manuel steps in between them, and commanded his Daughter to make choice of one of them for her Husband, that he might fight with the other. Don Juhan told him, that for his part he was ready to quit all manner of preten∣sions, if he might have any, and submitted him∣self to the Cavalier he saw before him. Don Sancho said the same thing, with this addition, that since Don Juhan had been brought into Don Ma∣nuel's house by one of his Daughters, it was pro∣bable they had a mutual affection one for the other, and that for his part, he would rather dye a thousand times, than enter into the state of Ma∣trimony with the least scruple. Dorothea cast her self at her Father's feet, beseeching him to give her audience, and he should know how all things stood. She related to him all that past between her and Don Sancho de Sylva, before he had, in her quarrel, kill'd Don Diego. She acquainted him that Don Juhan de Peralto fell afterwards in love Page  272 with her; as also with the design she had engag'd her self in, to undeceive him, and to advise him to demand her Sister in marriage, and at last con∣cluded her discourse with this protestation, that if she could not satisfie Don Sancho her inno∣cency, and the continuance of her affection to him, she would that very day enter into a Mona∣stery, whence no persuasions in the world should ever get her out again.

Don Sancho was soon satisfy'd with the account Dorothea had given of her fidelity towards him, and immediately demanded her in marriage of Don Manuel. By some passages of her discourse concerning Don Juhan, particularly by the time of his first appearance at Sevil, the place whence he came in the Indies, and the Relations he had there, the two Rival-Brothers came to know one the other. Don Juhan finding also by some cir∣cumstances of Dorothea's discourse, the affection which her Sister Feliciana had for him, humbly address'd himself to her, assuring her that if she still persisted in the same sentiments, he should think himself the happiest man in the world. He thereupon demanded her in marriage of Don Manuel, who receiv'd them both for his Sons-in-law, with a satisfaction that cannot well be ex∣press'd.

As soon as it was day, Don Sancho sent for the Marquess Fabiano, who came to participate of his friend's joy, after he had spent the night in di∣stracted thoughts what should have become of him. The whole business was kept secret, till Don Manuel and the Marquess had dispos'd a Cousin of Don Diego, to whom his Estate, upon Page  273 the other's Death, had faln, to forget his Kins∣man's misfortune, and accommodate himself with Don Sancho. During this negotiation, the Mar∣quess fell in love with a Sister of that Gentleman's, and demanded her of him in marriage. He gladly entertain'd a proposal so advantageous to his Sister, and thereupon was content to accept of any thing they could offer on the behalf of Don Sancho. The three marriages were solemnized the same day, with so great content of all parties, as was not onely remarkable at that time, but continu'd many years after.