Bentivolio and Urania in four bookes / by N.I. D.D.

THE FIRST BOOK: OR, ARGENTORA. (Book 1)

IT was many years after that time when the Rusty Brasse and baser Iron had given too great an assu∣rance of the full determination of the Golden and Silver Ages, when Bentivolio appear'd to the asto∣nishment of the degenerate world, which could not remem∣ber to have seen any Gentleman equall to him in Complexion or Stature. He was so perfectly made up, that one might easily perceive Wisdom, Goodness and Courage to have done their utmost in his Composure. The esteem of his Perfections did not rise by the measure of those disproportions in which the corrupt Age fell below him, but by such degrees as the exact rules of Vertue set up for an infallible standard.

After a full acquaintance with the customs of his own Country, by which he arriv'd at great perfection, and would have out-done them, but that they were such as could not be ex∣ceeded, (for he was born in the higher Theoprepia,) he had a great desire to see other Countries; not to make Experiments by his Travel to satisfie Curiosity, which in him was very lit∣tle; but to deserve such Honour as doth naturally accompany vertuous attempts, and leave most reall Benefits upon the be∣stowers of it.

He had now gone over divers Kingdoms which admini∣stred variety of tryalls, and match'd variety with difficulty; but in each he was so happily successefull, that every ones Ad∣miration strove with Love, which should do him the most

Honour. His singular Good-will being the bottom of his Engagements, and those ever answer'd with equall perfor∣mances, the people would take notice of him under no mea∣ner Character then a Father to mankind. He could go no where but Fame was his Harbinger, and took up for him the best Rooms in the Worthiest Expectations, and provided all possible welcome in the most Noble Hearts. The Report of his atcheivements ran through the world with like speed, and the same awfull noise, with which the Thunder-claps follow the flashes of Light. He subdued severall Bravo's, which infested the Regions of Anthropia; in particular Eristes, who rang'd up and down the Country of Gynopicrene: Rhexinous, who made his abode in the darksome vallies of Gelosia: and Pinodipson, who took an unworthy pleasure in afflicting the meaner sort of people; he us'd to cut them with a poyson'd sword, and those which were wounded, seem'd afterward to dye so many deaths as they lived hours, and at last dyed indeed cursing.

He met Bellona in the rough Deserts of Pammachia, and she being enrag'd at the presence of her sworn Foe, running upon him with a Womanish fury, chanc'd to wound her self in her right hand upon the point of Bentivolio's sword; whereupon she let her own fall. Bentivolio took it up, and casting his eyes upon the innocent bloud with which it had been oft besmear∣ed, as he was going to break it, she fell down upon her knees, and beseeching him to hold his hand, promis'd if he would restore her beloved Sword, she would submit to any conditi∣ons which he should appoint. Bentivolio knowing that she was provided with other Weapons of as unmercifull effect, call'd for the scabbard, and having sheath'd the cruell blade, he took an oath of her never to draw it more in any Country where he should happen to be, and so dismiss'd her, to the great joy of the people, who could never live in peace for her.

These and such like accidents caus'd divers conjectures in mens minds concerning Bentivolio, who he should be; and whil'st some said one thing, and others another, some stick'd not to affirme with confidence that Hercules was risen from the dead, and having chang'd his Lions skin for the Lambs, and

thrown away his Club, did more without it then with it.

Having passed severall nations, he came at last to the forlorn Kingdom of Ate, which he judged the most loathsome that ever he saw, and did before esteem it impossible that any could be so bad, knowing well that God never made any such. He was no sooner entred within the Borders, but the unhealthfulness of the Aire had almost choaked his Vitall Spirits; and being remov'd from the gladsome Sun by a chain of Hills, that lifted up their heads so high, that they intercept∣ed the least glance of his comfortable beames, it was dark and ruefull. He happen'd to light upon an obscure path which led to Ate's house, which was encompassed with the pitchy shade of Cypresse and Ebon Trees, so that it look'd like the Re∣gion of Death: as he walk'd he perceiv'd the hollow pavement made with the skulls of murdred wretches. At the further end of this dismall walk he espied a Court, whose gates stand open night and day, in the midst whereof was plac'd the Image of Cruelty, with a Cup of poyson in one hand, and a dagger all wet with reeking bloud in the other; her haires crawl'd up and down her neck, and sometimes wreath'd themselves about her head in knots of snakes, fire all the while sparkling from her mouth and eyes. Upon this he returned, guessing it to be ra∣ther the Temple of some infernall Goddesse, then the Palace of a Terrestriall Queen. At the entrance of this cursed place, by a way which leads to a duskish wood, he met two women, which by their habit seem'd to be Furies of Hell, but were indeed attendants of Ate. Their names he learn'd to be Sdegna and Vendetta: and they, expressing their hearts in words which did not fit them, would needs entreat him to accept of such accommodation as that place would afford. Bentivolio well knowing what that must needs be, if the inside correspon∣ded with what he had seen, and the entertainment were to be gi∣ven by such Ministers, made at first such refusall as might be in∣terpreted Modesty and Complement; but at length appearing to be plain Denyall, after the vain repetition of many entreaties, they appear'd like themselves: For after some ill language, they hasten'd away through the dark shade of the thick Grove, designing a Revenge of their slighted offer; though it was

not so much a neglected Civility as a frustrated Malice.

Bentivolio being thus delivered from an ugly Invitation, made haste to seek a place where better people might more probably be expected: being come to a neighbouring Town, he had been there but a little while before he found that the subjects were too like the Devilish Tyrant that commanded them. After some indignities receiv'd, for which he knew no reason, but that those which offered them had nothing else to give, as he was casting in his mind what to do, and after many thoughts resolv'd to abandon that den of Devils; he receiv'd a Letter from Astraea, who the day before was sent thither to take ven∣geance of such a Villany, as the Divine Justice, without a seem∣ing neglect of Government, could not suffer to be unpunished, and that hasten'd the Execution of his purpose. The Letter con∣tain'd these words.

BENTIVOLIO,

I am not ignorant who you are, and whence you come, and peradventure know where you are better then you do, having been here longer then your self. In this place dwells keen Hatred and unrelenting Spite. The Inhabitants, as I understand, by order of the most wicked Ate, have a design to murder you. I have sent you herewith a Sword, which you will need before you come into your own Country; if you forgoe it not, you will perceive in time, that it was not an unfit expression of a friends good-will. As soon as you have read this Letter, be gone from this Earth, which I also will immediately leave.

ASTRAEA.

Bentivolio having return'd such an answer as so great a Civili∣ty requir'd, deeply griev'd with the cries of the oppress'd,

and more with the incorrigible misery of those who esteem'd all wrongs lawful, which furthered their own interest, re∣tir'd to a Port which was not far off, (intending, if he might, to imbarke himself from thence for Argentora, for he meant to return home that way, having receiv'd strange reports concer∣ning that Country, of whose Truth he desired to be certifi∣ed,) and there he found a ship which was driven in by storms, weighing anchor, not onely because the wind blew fair to carry them off, but because the inhospitable temper of the peo∣ple made their stay undesired. Bentivolio giving them notice of his desire, and making it acceptable with offers of money, they took him in. Before they had sail'd many leagues a new Storm arose, and the West wind blew so tempestuously that they could not manage the ship; after a while the wind being somewhat appeas'd, they had also the comfort to make land, and a Port happily presented it self. Bentivolio hoping that it might possibly be Argentora, urg'd the Pilot by all means to put in; which they had no mind to do, fearing that it was the place from which not above a year before they had stolen a ship, where they were sure to find such welcome as that kind of guests doth deserve. Bentivolio not knowing the grounds of their unwillingness, offer'd to their Consideration the uncer∣tain event which this Storm might have; it had a bad begin∣ning, and for ought they knew might make a worse conclusi∣on: however it would be a great consolation and security to see it blow over in a Harbour. The Mariners neither minding his reasons, nor regarding the worth of his person, for they knew him not, stood off, till at last the Boatswaine came run∣ning up into the Masters Cabbin, and told them that the Ship had sprung a leake which he could not stop, and that the water came in so fast, that they must either seek preservati∣on ashore, or sinke. Upon this they chang'd their minds, and made what way they could to get into the Harbour; where they were no sooner arriv'd, but the vessel was almost full of water, and by that time the Passengers and Sailors were got ashore, it sunk before their eyes.

Bentivolio understanding by one of their Confessions the justnesse of the Punishment, which, by reason of the place

where they suffered, did soon call to mind their Sin, gave them his charitable directions to help them to make the best of so bad a matter; and discovering the place to be Argentora, after he had receiv'd notice of his way, went up to a high cliffe, that he might from thence please himself with a view of the Country, which was hid from his Eye by a row of Hills which ran along the sea-coast; and when he had reach'd the top he found a place fit for his purpose.

It was that season of the Year when the Earth puts on her most gorgeous Apparrell to entertain the Sun, which doth then bestow longer visits upon that then the other Horizon, and that presented him with the loveliest Prospect that Imaginati∣on acquainted with such kind of things can desire. It was so far beyond ordinary Perfection, that he thought sure he was deceived, and that in stead of some true piece of Natures work, he beheld a delectable Contrivance of Curious Art; or else that Sleep, which had abandon'd him for some nights before, had unawares surpriz'd him, and that he was now in a Dream, where his Fancy taking those rare works which he had seen any where in pieces, and adding such others to them as she could devise, had united them all in one Glasse, to repre∣sent the bravest show of a fair Country that is possible either to exist or to be fancied. Having pleas'd himself a while with these amusements, at last he recollected himself, and by such ordinary tokens as do assure us that we are awake, he per∣ceived that this was no Dream: and remembring that Art doth but imitate Nature, and is so far from out-doing, that it can never equall it, he was satisfied as to the reality of the sight; but withall from the newness of it, so incomparably perfect be∣yond all that he had seen before, he concluded that this was the Originall exemplar of Prospect, and therefore comprehended and exhibited all the possibilities of its Excellence at once.

Looking straite forward, he saw a Valley set forth with all the Embellishments that low ground is capable of. The rich fields of Corn and green Meadows lay in severall divisions in∣terchecker'd like great beds of Flowers and fresh Grasse-plots in a large Garden. The Corn-sields look'd as if the Rootes which were hid in them complain'd that, by mistake of their

own strength, through a great desire to be fruitful, they had sent forth more stalks then they could well support, and the overladen Eares encreas'd the oppression. The sweet Grasse grew up so thick in the Meadowes, that it seem'd to be streightned for want of room, and yet crowded closer to make way for those fragrant Flowers of all sorts which grew up with it; and these mingling their various colours as they best fitted the severall greens which they found there, made a show like a rich Carpet, where Grasse was the Ground, rare∣ly made up with beautiful Embroderies of Flower-work. A little remov'd he saw brave Pastures, which though they were oppress'd with the feet and mouthes of daily guests that liv'd upon them, yet the inexhaustible soyle sent forth Grasse, and upheld its growth both in thickness and height in spite of their Teeth. The humble Rivers, in the lowest places they could sind, crept amongst these in such proportionable windings and careful distances, as if they design'd to carry their streams a∣bout with that Universal respect to the ground, that they would leave no place unwater'd; and then they slid away with such gentle slowness, as show'd that they either doubted whether they had perform'd their duty, or if they had, yet were loath to leave those pleasant banks, but being driven for∣ward by such streams as came to supply their places, they murmur'd along to murmur'd the unwillingness of their depar∣ture. Toward the rising of the Hills, upon that side which is beloved of the Sun, he saw most noble Houses, whose several forms, though something different from each other, did all bear a well-agreeing Witness of greatest Art in the rare polish∣ing and Excellent conjunctions of the best materials of Edi∣sice. Those sides which are visited with colder winds were no less defended then adorn'd with well-grown Woods, which had stood there beyond the memory of man; and amongst those, the glory of that Countries Plants, Old Oakes lift up their stately heads supported with strong bodies, so invelopp'd with thick branches, that each Oak was more like a whole Wood then one single Tree. Under this guard, in places fit for them, stood all other Trees famous for bearing of Fruit, in such or∣derly rowes, that if you look'd upon them in right lines or

transverse, you should not see one of them out of his Rank. In Summer these had most pleasant emulations; for whilst each Branch vied with its neighbour for numbers, the Fruits themselves showing a full growth, and adding also beautiful colours, endeavour'd with a lovely sight to anticipate the sweetness of relish, but by so doing made the Taste more acceptable, it being an addition of pleasure when that which delights looks handsomly. So the Vertues of accomplish'd Souls are more graceful when they shine through Comely Bo∣dies. The inferior Trees, which had not the Glory of Fruits, spread their leafy boughs to contrive cool shades, and made themselves safe cages for Musical Birds, whose daily work was to sing for joy, that even so they should contribute some∣thing to the happiness of such a Blessed 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Amongst these varieties he saw Fair Towns and little Vil∣lages scatter'd up and down, but in such convenient distan∣ces, that they seem'd like Bee-hives of divers sorts orderly plac'd in several Gardens; and he could not but take notice how the numerous Inhabitants went out and in like swarms of busie Bees.

It gave him great delight to observe how through the mid∣dle of each Town, or not far from it, the streams which had been driven from the fields came down in silver Brookes; but much more, when he was told afterward that they brought along with them great plenty of excellent Fishes, which the people needed not to trouble themselves to catch, for they desiring to take themselves prisoners, swam voluntarily every day into their Nets and Weels; or if they did but throw a Hook into the water, they would hang themselves upon it, and give them notice that they might draw them out.

His eyes being glutted with the Luxuriant Pleasantness of the Valley, he turn'd them toward the Ground, which by its situation is lifted up somewhat higher, and so more mo∣derately moist, and there new Sights encountred him; namely such numerous multitudes of well-fleec'd Sheep upon large Walks, that made it a question whether the Grounds were over-grown with Sheep or the Sheep with Wooll; which what it wanted of the colour of the Golden Fleece, it did more

then compensate with Softness. Near to these he pleas'd him∣self to behold the large Parks, wherein goodly herds of come∣ly Deer rang'd up and down, whilst the little Fawnes tripp'd after them.

But as by the long hearing of Excellent Musick the powers of attention are tired; the Body having joyn'd with the Soul in the freeyielding of its self to the melodious Sympathy of grateful Notes, the wearied Spirits, gather'd together with a soft sweetness, repose themselves in their cels by a silent slum∣ber, just as the troubled Bees are woo'd to cluster themselves upon the Branch of a Tree by the to-them-acceptable noise of Basins:

So it was with Bentivolio. For being ravish'd with so many pleasing Sights which he had attentively considered, his Eyes, enfeebled with seeing, began to shut themselves, and gave him leave to fall into a gentle slumber. Out of which he was soon awaken'd, and entred into a serious Meditation of the Design of such an extraordinary Work: not doubting but so much costly care was bestowed for a most considerable purpose. Af∣ter many thoughts, he resolv'd that Liberal Nature, having so accomplish'd each part, that none could say which was best, intended in the Constitution of the vvhole to bestow such an unparallel'd Plenty upon the Country, as to put it beyond all necessity of beholdingness to Forreigners, and vvithall took care that no Inhabitant should be in danger of Want at Home, without a sordid disingenuity of the Natives.

Bentivolio upon this Consideration enamour'd with the Di∣vine Benignity, fell down upon his knees and said,

Blessed be thou, Most Bountifull Creator; the severall Kingdomes of the World are thy little Families, and thou comprehendest in thy Fa∣therly care all things which thou hast made. I thank thee for that fair Portion of Earthly Blessings which thou hast bestowed upon this Island. Grant them also of thy Grace such

Wisdome and Charity, that none may so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 engrosse thy Gifts, as to make those Poore for whom thou hast provided enough, and so in∣stead of giving thee due praises for their own Fullnesse, make themselves guilty of the Un∣thankfull murmurings of others occasion'd by want.

After this he began to think how the people bestowed this abundance, and concluded that, since it did in so great a mea∣sure exceed their necessities, a great part of it must needs pe∣rish for lack of use: and turning towards the South, where the Sea presented it self, he perceiv'd under saile a great 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Ships, with the advantage of a prosperous gale making way into the Haven: and he would certainly have concluded that those Vessels came to setch away the surplusage, but that he remembred, in the Port where he first landed they came from other parts of the World, laden with Goods of sorreigne growth in great Quantities, as rich Wines, excellent Fruits, good Corne, and with these, Silks and Stuffs, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and Jewells. There∣upon he imagin'd that provident Nature had appointed this Island as the Magazine of her Treasures, and having lay'd up all the riches of the World here as in a Store-house, that they might be secure against a general Dearth, had moated it round and strengthen'd it with a wall made of Sand and Water, be∣sides a floating Bulwark, that was removeable to any place as occasion serv'd.

In the midst of these thoughts he went down the Hill, to know if the Inhabitants equall'd the Place: but before he came at the bottom, he found that they did not make that use of the Divine Goodness to which they were abundantly obli∣ged; for he saw presently, what he expected never to have been, in a little Cave or hole in the side of the Hill, a miserable couple lying upon the ground, which were Husband and Wife; he was call'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉, she 〈◊〉〈◊〉: and whilst he stood astonish'd with the misery of their looks, which were so wan,

that no body could 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by that which appear'd in their faces that they were alive, there came in two Children, a Boy and a Girle; his name was Therodes, hers 〈◊〉〈◊〉. They were na∣ked, except where Nature is ashamed to be uncovered; their carriage 〈◊〉〈◊〉, only they could speak. Upon so sad a sight he could not abstein from teares, mingled with a passionate Ex∣clamation against the uncharitableness of mankind. These were some of his words, O 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Covertousnesse! thou hast no pleasure but in too much: nay it is a pleasure to thee if others have too little. Cursed roote of Inhumanity, which hast taken away the Com∣miseration of others sorrowes! Thou, hast of Hell, hast harden'd the hearts of men which are naturally soft. Tis thou hast let that ill fa∣vour'd Hagge, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, into the Word. Thou hast brought in the poore to fill the World with Discontents and Curses against God, whom by thy perswasions they believe to have taken no 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of them. Thou hast made them to envy and hate those which are better provided for then themselves, which they would never have done, but that they see them destitute of Cha∣rity. Thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉 forc'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to rise out of Hell, and to associate with the Needy, who steal that they may not starve. unreasonable Desire! which hast so besotted men, that they have forgot Civility, understand no pro∣portions of Competency, nor can trust God though they do see him. Thou perverter of all Good, God hath provided more then enough to supply the wants of all his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which made them knew how much they would lack, and hath given perfect directions concerning the use of his provisions, which if they were observ'd, would turn Misery out of the World. O Ene∣my of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Charity! that great band of the Universe, which if it were broke, would cause the Heaven to sall in pieces.

The trouble of this unpleasant Meditation was broke off by the coming of a sprightly youth, which made haste up the Hill, and calling at Lazarillo's Cave, said, Lazarillo, my name is 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and I am sent from a Charitable Lady which dwells not far off, who hath heard of your afflictions, to bring your Wife and Children to her house, where she will take care of you all.

Bentivolio startled at such an unexpected accident, and being one that counted all mens Happiness his own, as much pleas'd with hearing the acceptable contents of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as the poor folkes to whom it was directed, presently accosted the young

man, whom he could not but love, for that blithe chearful∣ness with which he delivered the Expressions of his Ladies Charity, and ask'd him, how his Lady understood that these poor folks dwelt in this wild place. My Lady, said Hermaga∣thus, hath a sincere joy in relieving the wants of the poor, and that affection will enable any to discover where they are. Benti∣volio ask'd him how he knew the way to this place, or whe∣ther he had been here before or no. No, said Hermagathus, for my Lady hath not been long in this Country: but I have gone many such errands, and whithersoever I am sent, she alwaies gives me such perfect directions that I never lose my way. Upon this Hermagathus looked round about to view the Cell, and seeing nothing but a little Book in the Rock side, for that was all the goods they had, except an earthen Pot, in which they boyl'd Rootes and Herbs, he ask'd them what it was. They said they could not tell. Now it was an old Prayer∣book of their Grand-mothers: and Hermagathus bad them bring it with them, for his Lady would have the Children taught to read it. So having told them his Ladies name, and given them directions to find her house, he left the poor peo∣ple, who began gladly to prepare for their journey.

Bentivolio hoping to gain some intelligence of the Country from this young man, however desirous to be inform'd more fully concerning that Excellent Lady, went along with him, pretending that his journey lay that way: as indeed it did, for he desired to see nothing so much as those surviving examples of Charity, which were yet left in the Unmerciful Age. Her∣magathus not a little glad of such Company, express'd an ex∣traordinary, but very real, desire of knowing whether, in any thing which he could perform, he might make himself lesse troublesome to so Noble a Companion. You need not doubt your acceptableness to a lonesome Travailer, said Benti∣volio; but you may also greatly oblige me, if you will give me a larger accompt of your Lady, her House, and the manners of it. That I will do with all my heart, replied Hermagathus. And by this time they were come to the brow of a Hill, from which they might easily discern the Houses and as they walk'd along in sight of it, Hermagathus began thus.

Upon the further side of that pleasant River stands my Ladies House: it takes, as you see, the advantage of a little Ascent: the way which leads to it from the River is pav'd with smooth stones: it hath a fair Frontispiece, and may be seen at a great distance: the Gates are broad, and stand alwaies open: they lead into a fair Court, where two Servants con∣stantly attend to conduct all comers into a large Hall; where the Steward of the house takes notice of their respective Con∣ditions, and makes provision for them according to their seve∣ral necessities.

The House is two Stories high; the Lower is appointed for Offices, the Upper is divided into two parts, with a fair Gallery between the Divisions: upon each side every Guest hath a Room by himself furnish'd with all necessary accom∣modations. The Officers which administer such things as they want, do their work with such exact Care and loving Willingness, that none can be serv'd better in their own hou∣ses by the best-tutor'd and most ready servants. Every Guest may stay as long as he pleaseth; and when any desireth to be gone, they give him free leave, but never send him away empty. When those that come Sick have regain'd their Health, they are employ'd sutably to their dispositions and abilities; and in the time of their Sickness they are accompani∣ed by such as do not only take care of their Bodily health, but entertain their Minds with Excellent discourses of the Con∣cernments of their Soules, especially about their Spirituall Nature, Immortality, and the just preparations for a Better Life.

That you may understand how they accomplish all this, the House is, as you see, plac'd in the midst of rich Lands, and they supply it with all needful Provisions. The Tenants pay but a smal part of their Rents in Money, and in stead of that, they bring in Corn of all sorts, Wool and Flax, Sheep and oxen, Wood and Coales: and when the Provisions exceed, as they do in plentiful yeares, we lay up for times of Scarcity, for which we have convenient Store-houses. The River, be∣sides good store of Fish, brings up from other places with great facility such things as we are not supplyed with at Home.

Our Store is not only preserv'd, but exceedingly encreas'd, by reason of that frugal way of living which my Lady useth, not only her self, but her Retinue, content with a little for their own share, desirous to be rich only in Good works, and to abound in such things of which they can never be depriv'd.

Before the House lies a Physick-garden, well stored with Medicinal Herbs, as likewise with such as are good for Food. Those which come in healthful, are usually kept so by an herb call'd Temperanza, which also is of great use to recover those which are sick; but if it prevaile not alone, she joyns with it some Cordial and sudorifick Plants, which are not hard to be had, for there is great plenty of them, and all the servants know both which they are and how to use them, and so doth every Patient after the first time. Those which have received the benefit of Health by such easie means, do some∣thing suspect the tedious methods of some Physitians as guil∣ty of unworthy Artifice, and more accommodated to their own Benefit then their Patients Relief, as I have sometimes heard them say; and that God hath not so wholly deserted us in the daies of our Calamity, as to lay those things which should help us so far to seek, as that we cannot tell where to finde them. But I will not trouble you with any longer dis∣course of our affaires, but rather, since I perceive by your chearful acceptance of my report, that it is not ingrateful to you to understand the way of our life, humbly entreat you to bestow a visit upon my Lady; where, as I am sure you will receive perfect welcome, so I make no doubt but one of your worthy disposition will be well content to gain the acquain∣tance of such an Excellent Person.

Bentivolio, taking great Consolation that Charity was not wholly banish'd from the Earth, as he perceiv'd by this Rela∣tion, and desiring much to see the prudent Government of a House, where a Stripling had learn'd such Discretion, told Her∣magathus, that he would not fail to call there as he pass'd by: and being now come to the Rivers side, he desired Hermagathus to go over, for that he himself would stay a while, not so much to repose himself, as to know what was become of the poor

Travailers. Having dismiss'd Hermagathus, and stay'd longer for them then he thought the measuring of so much ground, though with a slow place, would have required, he went back to meet them, fearing some mischief had befallen them, or that they had lost their way: which indeed they had, for, as one that met him gave him notice, they mistaking their di∣rections, had gone out of the rode towards a house which be∣long'd to a Gentleman of a far different Temper from the La∣dies, whither they should have gone; and there Bentivolio found them knocking at the Gate. The Porter looking sourly through the Bars of a little Window which was in his Lodge, told them, those Gates were made to shut, not to open; to keep out Strangers, not to let them in. His Master being by chance near the Gate, and fearing, as he did alwaies, that some were come to rob him, ventur'd to peep upon the Thieves, but shut the little Loop-hole presently, saying, they are Ghosts; as he might well have call'd them, if they had had no more bones then flesh. They still continued knocking, desiring entrance for God's sake; a phrase of small regard at that house. Plutopenes pretending not to understand the Language, ask'd his Porter what they said, and away he went. I wonder, saith another Servant that stood by, that our Master is so dull to day, that he understands not his Mothers Tongue. There is no reason for that, quoth the Porter, since you know, let the Language be what it will, he never understands more then he lists, nor heares what any body speaks, nor knows what they say, if they ask any thing of him.

Bentivolio, having seen the fruitless event of this vain atten∣dance, call'd to the poor people, Come, Come, said he, you have knock'd at a wrong door; you went to a house unto which you were not invited; there is a River between this and that which you are to seek: I will direct you. When he had accompanied them almost to the Ferrie, he went a little before to provide the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 against their coming. The Ferrie-man with meek words and courteous behaviour demanded if he would passe over. Very willingly, quoth Bentivolio; only I expect the coming of some other Passengers, who are not far off. However, saith Oictirmon, for that was his name, I will put

you over first; for by that time they will be here, more may chance to come then my Boate will well transport. To this Bentivolio consented, and the Ferrie-man landed him safe upon the further side; where he stay'd to awaite the arrival of his seeble followers. oictirmon had not been long return'd, but they came, whom with careful hand he plac'd in his Boate: and as he was ready to put off, there came a fellow hollowing as he ran, and puffing cryed, Hold, hold. oictirmon, taking notice of his grim Visage and clutch'd fingers, What, saith he, you are one of Plutopenes his servants. Yes, saith he, and my Master is hard by, who comes to make a Visite to your Lady. I desire you, since there is room, to take him in with you. I wonder at this, replyed oictirmon, for he never pass'd this way in all his life, that I remember. God grant his coming be for good: I am much afraid what it will be: but if he will go over, he shall; our custom is to be civil to all; I have order to take in as many as my Boate will hold. By this time Plutopenes was come, being out of breath with unusuall walking; for he had not been out of his house for many yeares, and had a great bunch of heavy Keyes upon his back, having lock'd up all the doores of his house, lest his servants should run away with his money; and by chance he was fat and sweated extremely. In goes he to the Boate, but with such an unluckie hast, that the weight of his body and the suddenness of the swag overturn'd the Vessel upon the Passengers. Plutopenes sunk to the bottom of the River near the bank-side, and his man, something doubting whether he should endeavour to save him or no, yet seeing him come up, caught hold of his left Arme, and he with his right hand, sufficiently taught to catch and hold fast, got the Post to which the Boate was fastned, and so with much adoe scrambled out. Never minding what was become of the rest, or so much as once looking back, away he trudg'd, inwardly glad to think that they would never trouble his gate more; yet pretending to his man a great rage against oictirmon, and that he would have his life, but that he had lost it already, for having design'd to drown him. Lazarillo and his sorry fa∣mily were drown'd; though oictirmon would fain have sav'd them. Alas! it was not in his power: for as the Boate was

overwhelm'd, Plutopenes having hold of his hand, pull'd him so deep under water, that he had much ado to get clear of him: so that though he could swim, by which meanes he saved himself, yet the swiftness of the stream having carried away their bodies, who, being weak and unskilful, could do no∣thing to help themselves, they were quickly so far gone, that before oictirmon was able to offer it, they were past the recovery of his assistance. Swimming over to Bentivolio, he wept so hear∣tily all the way, that the good Gentleman could not but bear him company, having seen the lamentable occasion of those teares, which was not in his power to help.

As they went along towards the House, oictirmon told Benti∣volio, that his misgiving heart presag'd this or some such unhap∣py event of Plutopenes his approach, it having been his constant practice to break all the Designs of Charity which he could hear of. He told him of several young men, whose lands he had got into unjust possession by the rigorous forfeiture of some petty Mortgage; how many Widdows he had defrauded of their small portions of money, and whose houses he had de∣voured; and how many poor House-keepers he had brought to plain beggery, with an extortionate loane of a little money, so that this was not the first time he had sunk the Poor.

By that time he had made an end of a few stories, they were come to the House; where the Lady awaited his arrivall with such expectations as she had only for an Extraordinary Guest: which were partly occasion'd by those high praises wherewith Hermagathus had extoll'd both the Excellency of Bentivolio's per∣son, and the equal sweetness of his manners; but chiefly upon a Conceit which she kept secret in her own Breast, that he was her Brother: and walking up and down the Hall as Bentivolio came in, she found her divination true.

Here I dare not offer to undertake the relation of those ex∣cessive joys which were kindled in both their hearts upon this happy Interview: those glorious Flourishes wherein the pas∣sions of Romantick Lovers are described, are but faint shadowes of that substantiall Contentment which these two Vertuous persons really experimented; and therefore I lay them by as useless. Neither are they sutable to this Pleasure, which grew

so much greater, and exceeded in reality, as it was grounded up∣on nothing but such Goodness and worth as is of a Spirituall and more rais'd Nature; and indeed was the same kind of So∣lace which Holy Soules enjoy in the Eternall World.

The by-standers equall'd this Joy with Wonder; and well knowing the great Prudence and unparallel'd Goodness of the Lady, and seeing nothing but a most fair appearance of all Perfections in the Gentleman, as the Cause of such extraordi∣nary affections was more inevident, they found themselves fix'd in Silence and Admiration. Some which were more in∣genious, thought they had a rare Vision of such Gods as Ho∣mer talks of, which know one another whensoever they meet, though they live in divers Countries. But these doubts were suddenly resolv'd, when urania (for that was the Lady's name) having perform'd all civility which belong'd to the first salutations, said, Come, Brother, let us withdraw from this place, lest by staying here too long to indulge our affecti∣ons, we neglect such duties as ought to be perform'd in re∣gard of your present state, which I desire to understand.

They retir'd into a Summer Parlor, and after a short repose sweeten'd with pleasant Conferences, in which they gave and received an interchangeable report of such things as had hap∣pen'd to them since their parting, urania desir'd her Brother to take notice of a Gentleman whom she had sent for, with such respect as she might bespeak for one whom she judg'd not unworthy of his Friendship.

He was call'd Panaretus; and though he was her Brother, she conceal'd his name, desiring to surprize Bentivolio with a new joy, for he knew not that Panaretus was there. As soon as Panaretus was come into the Room, Bentivolio perceiv'd the Pleasure, which he thought before swell'd to all possible Ex∣tents, to grow yet bigger, and was forc'd to act over again that delightful Part which he had but even then perform'd. Pana∣retus receiv'd this most acceptable encounter with such a passio∣nate joy, as the sight of a Brother who had been long absent, and whom he had alwaies endear'd to himself with the grea∣test affections, must needs produce. Then they entertain'd each other with glad Salutes, and reflected mutually the same Love in various Expressions.

When they had spent some time in this sort of Intercourse, all Three pleasing themselves to consider in what equal pro∣portions an Extraordinary Happiness was bestowed among them all, Oictirmon fearing that the extremity of such unexpect∣ed Joyes had quite put out of Bentivolio's mind the remem∣brance of the late accidents, with which he thought others ought to be affected, measuring their duty by those strong sentiments of Pity which he found in his own Breast, had a great desire to impart the troubles of his mind to urania; that so though the Wrongs could not be reliev'd, yet his Grief might be something allayed by her Sympathy, whilst she receiv'd a sad account of the miscarriage of her charitable in∣tendments. Bentivolio, who was before unwilling to mixe such sad notes with the pleasantness of the foregoing Harmo∣ny, having been an Eye-witness, was forc'd now to bear his part by attesting Oictirmon's too true Relation. After they had made such Morall improvements as a Calamity in it self in∣capable of reparation would allow, the night being come, they resolv'd to put off the determination of what was to be done in the case till Morning; and after the repast of a mode∣rate Supper, each of them betook themselves, though with an unwilling willingness, to their necessary repose.

In the morning urania, rising not long after the Sun, went out of her Chamber, and understanding that Bentivolio was walking in the Garden, having gone down a little before, she sent a servant to desire him to come to her. After the passing of mutuall gratulations and good wishes, she acquainted him with her Purpose, which she would not put in Execution without his advise, which was to see Plutopenes; not so much to repay the Visit which he pretended to have made to her the day before, or to condole his Misfortune, which she deem'd too 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Punishment for the mischievous rashness by which he fell into it, but to take this opportunity of admi∣nistring some Counsel which she had to give him, doubting whether she might ever meet with the like again.

Bentivolio approv'd her Design, and having accompanied her over the River, she desired him to trouble himself no further, for that she and Panaretus would soon accomplish that

small business which she had to do, and return to him ere ma∣ny houres were expir'd. As soon as they were gone out of sight, Bentivolio employ'd himself in Enquiry after the dead bo∣dies of Lazarillo and the rest which were drown'd. He had not gone far before he understood that they were stop'd at a Bridge, being catch'd in nets not laid for such purposes; and having given order for their decent buriall, he return'd towards the Ferrie, intending to divert himself upon the banks of that fair River till urania's return.

The thoughts of the niggardly Plutopenes being fresh in his mind, he imploy'd the remainder of his time to draw the ugly Picture of Covetousnesse in a Copy of Verses, which I am willing to insert here, because in them he hath shown how Poverty comes into the World, not withstanding Gods bountifull pro∣visions, and prov'd that the Benignity of his Intentions is made ineffectuall to our Happinesse onely by the Unchari∣tablenesse of Men. They began thus,

It is but just: We 〈◊〉〈◊〉 since that; I cease From quarrells: 'Twas a Blessing to encrease, Though now a Curse. The teeming Earth doth breed More then the Fruits which it brings forth will feed. It seems of late God hath resum'd the Curse, And for our Sins grown greater made it worse. Then we had Bread, though it was bought with Sweat: We sweat still, but it doth not earne our Meat. Men live too long perhaps, or some too soon Come, before those which should make roome are gone. If Death were not grown Idle, we should thrive: We are too many all at once alive.

No, that's not it. They had Enough of Old, Yet liv'd till our short Age they ten times told. He which made All things, knew what they would want, And did not give Allowances so scant, That men could think their Maker was but Poor, Or, which is worse, through Envy hid his Store. No, no, Rich Bounty, thy kind hands did make Thy Gifts Great, like the Giver, for our sake.

The Measures are large-siz'd, which thou dost fill; And though they are press'd down, run over still. But we are greedy, and through Avarice carve Such Portions to our selves, that others starve Whilst we are glutted: nay, though they complain Whom we have rob'd, we count their losse just gain; And jostling others cry, All scrambling's fair, Some All, some Nothing is an Equall share.

Thus our Sins further others Faults and Woe, Whilst God is Curs'd by us and for us too. And with our Wants we falsly charge the Earth: Engrossers Barns are full in Yeares of Dearth. Thus wicked Murmurs, which seem just, by such Are caus'd who seek more, though they have too much, But part with Nothing. You with far more ease Might rob the Gardens of th' Hesperides. I'th Dragons stead had we look'd to the Fleece, The Argon auts had sail'd in vain from Greece. We make an Iron Chest the fatall Urne Whence Gold once buried never doth return. The Love of Having is that Wide-mouth'd Pit Which hath no ground; God's Plenty's lost in it. Or, like those Monsters which fat Kine destroy'd, Is Hungry and Leane still; fill'd, but not cloy'd.

For when our true Necessities are suppli'de, Rather then wee'l the Overplus divide, We frame phantastick needs, and so desraud Those Stomachs which for want of Meat are gnaw'd: And think we do a good Excuse devise, We have our Bellies fill'd, but not our Eyes.

Then Luxury makes Artificial Feasts, As if we meant to pose, not feed our Guests; Having contriv'd such curious sorts of Meat, They know not what they do, which they should Eat.

Then Gold, which answers all the Poore's behoofes, Shines to small purpose in the glistring Roofes Of Stately Dining-Roomes; or on the Dore Where they ask Almes it is bestow'd before.

Our Native Wool, which made that Home-spun stuffe Which our Brave Ancestors thought good enough,

When Hospitality was clad in freeze, Doth not become such handsome times as these. Though we might know it fits our Climate best, It must be shipt to fetch us from the East What fits our Humors. We find Silks too full Of Heat, when some are Cold for want of Wooll. Thus we affront the Grounds of Ancient Praise, And scorn the Patterns of more sober dayes.

Hydropick Beast! will nothing quench thy Thirst? Here, try a Recipe. Drink Tagus first, And then Pactolus: if these will not doe, Then take the Ocean and drink that up too. But all the Virtue of Unfathom'd Seas Cannot relieve the Thirst of this Disease.

Urania being come to the Gate, Panaretus knock'd. The Por∣ter looking forth of his little Window, they demanded en∣trance, as having some business of importance to communi∣cate to Plutopenes, and withall gave him some money, which was currant at the same value with the servants that it was with the Master, and was a generall key which open'd any lock of the house. When they came almost to the Hall door, Plutopenes alarm'd with the opening of his Gates, came forth like one frighted with Thunder; but seeing only a Woman and one man, and having some servants in the house, he made a shift so far to subdue his feares as to bid them come into his Hall; where Urania began thus to accost him. Sir, said she, I come not to beg any thing of you (he was very glad of that) but to repay you a Visit, (he had been as well pleas'd if she had said nothing) and to inform you of what may make to your singular benefit. I shall acquaint you with some particu∣lars in which you suffer a great Dammage, which no body doth reveal to you, and give you some advice concerning the Improvement of your Estate. At these words, which he un∣derstood to speak Profit, he lift up his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and partly to show a little forc'd civility, partly to be out of his servants hearing, lest they should cheat him of the benefit of so good newes, by understanding it as well as himself, he pray'd them,

after his fashion, to walk into a Parlor, which indeed was more Cave then Parlor. She, not knowing what might hap∣pen, desired that Panaretus might come in along with her, tell∣ing him that the design of his Profit was wholly lay'd by that Vertuous Gentleman. Upon those words he consented, though with no small jealousie of being robb'd. Through a dark entry, where no light ever came but what was cast by a Torch, which was held by a grim Porter, who fac'd them, as if he would have knock'd them down with his looks, they came to an Iron door, which had many locks: this being open'd, they came into a kind of a Vault enlightned with a rusty Lamp, by which they perceiv'd a great company of Iron Chests where he kept his Gold and Silver close prisoners; only for want of room there, some had a little more liberty, lying in heaps in severall corners of the Grott or Grave, where he and his money were buried together. Knowing well that he expected not, nor ever offered Complement,

Sir, quoth Urania, Generall Report speaks of you as a man of vast Riches: but I have heard some few, which pretend to better knowledg of you, to say, that you are very poor; and now I find it to be true. I am sorry for you; (but he was glad, thinking, because she esteem'd him poor, that she came to give him something.) Its true, some would esteem this a great Trea∣sure which you possesse: but alas! what is it to your necessi∣ties, who want both this and a thousand times more? Your wants lie in the greatnesse of your Desires, and I am afraid it is next to impossible to provide so much as a Competency for you. That which I am able to bestow is a very small Almes; but such as it is I will impart it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Though I have not Moneyes or Lands to give you, yet I will endeavour to show you a way infinitely to improve your own Estate, and to dis∣cover to you, as I said before, what keeps you so poor. First, you have no use of your Money, which indeed these thievish Chests have stollen and keep from you. Many of your Houses fall down, because no body dwells in them; your Mannors and Lands return but to an improfitable account, be∣cause you have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 then you know what to do with. I perceive you want the assistance of excellent Stewards, that

might improve your fortunes exceedingly, by relieving with them the necessities of the poor neighbourhood, and ad∣vance, by the prudent disposall of superfluous summs, Me∣chanicall Arts and ingenuous Sciences, which would return into your Coffers, with an unspeakable encrease, the Comforts of the Poores Prayers, the Blessings of Charity, and the true honour of being a Benefactor to Mankind. Besides the ava∣ritious Rust which eats out your Money, there is a Canker al∣so which preyes upon your Estate, which is the Fraud by which you have gotten it, and the Curse of those evil Coun∣sels and Principles with which you hinder others from doing any Good.

As for Example, You perswade them to build no Almes∣houses, because others will sell what they give: and when they tell you they have so setled their Gifts by Law, that if they be converted to any other use, they shall immediately return to their heires; you tell them, they will not. When you are ask'd concerning that proportion of Estate which one may call a Competency, you answer, All that one can scrape together is but a Competency; and that the way to come to it is, to spend nothing upon such improfitable businesses as Charity. So that no good Design can be propounded, but you are ready to Contradict it with such Reasons as you are ever framing in this shop of Covetousnesse: and besides that your con∣stant Example hath corrupted thousands who had better in∣clinations, you drowned four miserable Wretches yesterday, as they were upon their way to one that would have re∣lieved them. —

Plutopenes much gall'd with this talk, hoping she would end, as she began, with some Comfortable word, made a shift to endure it all this while; but now being unable to hope or hear further, cryed out, as if his throat had been cut, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Harpagus. At which unexpected noise in he rusheth with his club; Plutopenes still crying, Knock them down Harpagus, knock them down. Panaretus, seeing the fellow too ready to obey such a vile command, having drawn his sword, said, Lay down your club, we offer no wrong; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 if you will not, I shall disinable you for ever taking it up again. So interposing

his body between him and urania, whilst the Villain made ready to fetch a blow, Panaretus gave him such a stroke upon his right arm as he lift it up, that his club fell backward, and guarding urania out of the House, where no body was willing to detein them, they made hast towards the Water. But they were much startled with a cloud of Smoke which they saw about urania's House; and when they came to the River, they found Bentivolio in the same perplex'd guesses concerning it: but they were soon resolv'd with the cries of a dismall messen∣ger, one of urania's servants, who running and making as loud a noise as one could that was half dead with fear, call'd, Oictir∣mon, oictirmon. They had no sooner perceiv'd him to be Herma∣gathus, but urania and both her Brothers prepar'd to go into the Boate: which he seeing, cryed out vehemently, No no; I must come over to you. Thereupon urania bad oictirmon fetch him over, being assured some extraordinary disaster had put the youth into this passion. As soon as he was come, he begins, Alas! Madam, you had not been gone half an hour, before a Troop of Horse begirt the House round; having kill'd the Pil∣grims, and plunder'd it throughly, they have burnt it down, of which yonder smoke is a sad witnesse. They intend, as I over-heard some of them say, to possesse themselves of the Lands, by an Order that they have for it from one whose name I cannot remember, and expressed a great vexation when they could not find your person, against which they vented their fury in outragious threatnings. This Troop was commanded by one call'd Lestrigon, who pretended that he was sent to search the house for some Conspirators, which were reported to be harbour'd there, and to demolish it.

urania not much abash'd at that which she had in some measure expected, bearing up against a great affliction with a greater Courage, express'd her self thus; My dear Brother, Now, now you are in Argentora; you begin to see what kind of people dwell in this Country. I have received many affronts in that little time which I have sojourn'd here, and that which besides they had often threatned, as I was inform'd, they have now payed. Let's retire to yonder Wood, where we may with safety consult what course to take.

When they were sate upon a green Bank which offer'd it self under the coole shade of an old Beech, urania said it was her opinion, that they should return into Theoprepia. Bentivo∣lio, out of extreme Good will to those which little deserv'd it, was much troubled that so rare an Example of Divine Cha∣rity should be removed, knowing well that a dark Night would follow the setting of such a Sun; and that the Unwor∣thy might by kindnesse yet be conquer'd into a better Temper, with such arguments as he could he persuaded her Stay. She alleg'd the small successe of her former paines, and having no habitation left her though she would attempt further: She continued her resolutions to stay no longer, to receive more Wrongs where she could do no good; telling him withall, that she would take her journey home through the Kingdom of Piacenza, which was then govern'd by a Voluptuous Queen, and that if occasion serv'd she would endeavour their Recon∣ciliation to Vertue.

Bentivolio finding his hopes of Reformation quite over∣thrown by urania's despaire, consented to her intendments, on∣ly with this earnest entreaty, that he might have leave to wander a while through the borders of Argentora, after which he would meet her in the Metropolis of Vana sembla; where they would give and receive an account of each others Travells. urania having signified her consent, they parted after mutuall Farwells, which were perform'd with lesse Ceremony and repetitions, because they hoped to meet again in a few dayes.

Bentivolio took the lower rode which goes through the Sou∣thern parts of Argentora, accompanied only with Hermagathus, whom he loved not only for those handsomenesses which he saw in him the day before, but also for a new Experiment of his Ingenuity: for when urania's house was encompassed with Souldiers, he stole down into a shady part of the Garden, where he lay hid till he perceiv'd they had withdrawn them∣selves into the House, and then by a back-way which led pri∣vately to the River, brought along with him urania's Cabinet of Jewels, and Bentivolio's Sword which Astraea gave him.

They came after some houres Travaile into a pleasant Grove, not far from the way which lay through it; and Ben∣tivolio

espying a shady Walk furnish'd with a convenient seat, he sate down to rest himself awhile. Behind him at a small distance was a Thicket of Bushes, and in them a close Ar∣bour, where a young Gentleman was newly retired, who in a Tune between pleasant and sad, accommodated to a Theorbo a ditty which was his own Story. He seem'd with his Song to entertain the Wise Lady Dysemeria, with whom of late he had contracted an intimate acquaintance.

The Song being ended, he laid by his Lute, intending to take his usuall Walk, and then return home to Supper. Benti∣volio espied him as he came forth of the Thicket, and having receiv'd great content in his Musick, being never last in courtesie, though he had committed no fault, he began immediately to crave pardon of the Gentleman for having unawares invaded his privacy, since that seeking the comfort of his own Retire∣ments, he was brought, without designing any thing else, to the knowledge of his presence there, which if he had known before, Civility would have depriv'd him of those Joyes which now he had gladly stollen with an involuntary Theft. Erotocleus (for that was the Gentlemans name) though some∣thing surpriz'd, yet as much pleas'd with the high civility of words delivered by a person of most gentile presence, answer'd, Sir, you are as far from the necessity of making Excuses, as you are from having perform'd any thing that doth deserve them. Nothing needs an Excuse but a Fault; and if you have offended any body, I suppose you meant my self: All that I have to blame you for is, that you have made me to find one unawares whom I should have sought in vain throughout all this miserable Country. Bentivolio, a little blushing, replied, Sir, I perceive amongst your other Perfections you have enter∣tain'd a great Charity for Strangers, and are apt to frame the best thoughts of others that you can, till you see reason to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and to withhold your Assent to plausible grounds of suspicion till you have examined them; and therefore I pray you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 excuse me if I be further so bold with you, as to desire that Happinesse in your Acquaintance, unto which your be∣nigne deportment hath given me so fair an invitation. You ask, answer'd Erotocleus, so small a thing that it is not worth

your having: yet I should make no scruple of obeying your Command, but that peradventure the discovery of my self and the relation of my Condition would give you the know∣ledge of such Misfortunes as might occasion your grief, since I judge you not uncapable of Compassion; and therefore I desire you would let me perform that which I think to be my duty in this point by Silence. No, I beseech you, said Benti∣volio: for as it is impossible I should ever undervalue one of your Worth upon so inconsiderable a ground as Adversity; it may be also that my knowledge of your Wrongs may be some fur∣therance to your Vindication: for how poor soever I am in ability, yet I am provided of so much Good will, that, what I cannot by my assistance take off from you wholly, I shall not refuse to bear in part with you by Unfeigned Sympathy.

Erotocleus overcome with the resentments of such a gene∣rous Charity, was content to make known his Afflictions. I am, saith he, Erotocleus, the unfortunate son of Philapantas, who was Lord of a fair Baronrie in this Country. No Father was ever more loved by his Children, then he was honoured by his Tenants: His Universall Charity was so plentifully be∣stowed among them all, that they call'd him by no other Name then Father; His Exemplary Righteousnesse was so publickly known, that they fear'd to do Wrong, not so much because they were sure he would punish their Sin, but he made Righteousness so lovely by his own practise that they hated to do Wrong. His seat was Magnificent, his Lands situa∣ted between Pleasantnesse and Riches, and so became the Ob∣ject of Envy to the Covetous, as his Holy Life was grievous to all wicked persons, who were constantly upbraided and condemned by it. He was divers times assaulted, and put in mind by rude attempts of the Uncertainty of Worldly State, vvhich he never forgot hovvever; for he made the daily consi∣deration of it the reason of his true contempt of such things, which others bestow their best Affections upon with great Admiration.

He was once troubled, I remember, with a Company of rude fellowes, beggarly in their Condition, and vvorse in their Temper, which was compos'd of Covetousness, Discontent

and foolish Arrogance; who pretending the Injustice which is in the unequall Division of the World, would needs at∣tempt to reduce it into just Allotments: and in prosecution of their wise Design, would needs begin to parcell out his Lands into severall distinct proportions; promising to allow him a share sufficient for himself and Family, and to assigne his Tenants their parts, and take to themselves only so much as they needed and he could well spare, and of these measures they would be judges: and so they began with their Spades to cast up little marks of Division.

They undertook this business more confidently, because of some Dreames which one or two of them had concerning this Mode of Reformation, by which they made their Neighbours believe that it was revealed to them, and that as the Benefit of the Design was Universall, so the Successe was out of Doubt.

Philapantas wondring at such a strange device, of which he was inform'd by some of his Tenants, made hast to know the bottom of the businesse. As soon as he was come to this wild company, he desired to talk with their Leader, if they had any, for that he had something to communicate unto him. They not doubting but it was some Vision, received him the more contentedly, and brought him to one ononeirus, who was made their Chief, because he dream'd that he should lead them; and having found that trick so serviceable, made constant use of it, to dream in the night what he would have done the next day: They never daring to disobey what them∣selves had approv'd of for a Divine guidance; though it was such as by which they might be made to do or suffer any thing. Philapantas having ask'd him the Reason of their present Un∣dertakings, ononeirus hearing that word Reason, was ready to have commanded his Myrmidons to slay him, which of them∣selves they were willing enough to have done, for they could not abide Reason neither: but the fear of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his atten∣dants restraining his Zeal, he answer'd, that they had a Revelation for it, of which he was not to receive an account.

Say you so? quoth Philapantas; If you have a Revelation concerning these Lands, I am interested in it; and therefore I do desire

some assurance of the truth of your Allegation, that I may warrant my obedience to it. The matter which you are upon is of great moment, and concerns so many besides your selves, that you have need of a good Commission for what you do. All that know God perceive him to be a lover of Righteousness, and those which pretend Communion with him must be just. Many Wise men, who see you invade o∣thers Proprieties, will fear that you are rather driven by the Disturber of mankind, and instigated with covetous desires, then inspired by God, who hath no where given encourage∣ment to make havock of the Interests of our Neighbours: He hath commanded us to be content with our own, though it be but little, acknowledgeth the distinctions of poor and rich, and hath call'd the taking away of other mens goods without their consent, Theft. He doth allow Propriety as a fountain of Charity, and Nurse of civil Commerce and Industrie. And although some men do neglect the duty of relieving others necessities with their superfluity, and op∣press the poor to inrich themselves, yet this is not the way to reform; the Remedy being manifestly worse then the Disease.

Then offering the assistance of his particular Charity, as far as he should be able to supply those wants which might op∣presse some of them, he advis'd them to return to their Homes, not doubting but many honest-minded people were seduced by the Delusions of cunning Hypocrites.

These last words made the slame break out which his whole Discourse kindled in their hearts; and then without any war∣ning they fell upon him with their Spades, making their tooles instruments of war, which they pretended to have brought for other uses. But philapantas his Retinue soon cha∣stised their folly; and having kill'd ononeirus and a few more of them, the rest vanish'd with his Dreames, and left their Mat∣tocks to dig graves for their Companions, who were then con∣tent with a less share of Earth then before they had measured out.

This Mist being thus clear'd up, we lived in great serenity for a good while, till new clouds arose from the Covetousness of

two envious Neighbours, potent in Argentora, who had a great desire to become possessors of other mens Estates, though their own was too much for them, especially because it gave them ability more effectually to disturb the Innocent.

One was a Gentleman call'd Forzario, of a fierce Temper, who us'd to satisfie his greedy mind with a lawless Force. He would compell all those which held any thing of him, to do whatsoever his surly disposition appointed; and this produc'd a continuall Vexation to my Fathers Tenants. He stop'd up the waies which led to their grounds, if they lay among his, (pre∣tending they were but granted upon sufferance) to make them go two miles about for the quarter of one; and if they offer'd to break his unjust Hedges, they should be sure to be well beaten. He would make his men drive our Tenants Cattell upon his grounds, and then sue them for Trespassers; and they not daring to go to Law with him, were fain to compound with him, and so obtain at unreasonable rates a forgiveness of those Trespasses which he himself committed. It were insinite to speak of his Wickedness, but one thing I may not omit which he did to day: He arm'd divers of his Tenants which were most suitable to his wicked designs, and made them burn down the house of an Excellent Lady which dwelt not very far off, for no reason but that he had heard great reports of her Excellent Vertues, especially Charity. He is of a bloudy Temper naturally, and trusts so much in his strength, that he will fight with any one, hath challeng'd many, and kill'd some; but by corruption of a great Courtier or two he saves his own most unworthy life.

The other was a Lady, whose name is Inganna, and she took another way more agreeable to her sex; what he did by Force, she effected by Fraud, cheating the people with crafty Bar∣gains, counterfeit Deeds, and Promises, which she kept no longer then till she had opportunity to break them. But in all her transactions she made such fair show of desiring to pro∣mote their good, and got so far within them by their plain Credulity, that they were never more perniciously hurt then when they thought their Welfare most secured.

The Tenants of these two vile persons made use of those

unworthy wayes in their converse with others, which they had not only learn'd from their Superiors, but saw warranted by their greater Examples. And when they could not secure themselves under one Landlord, they would forthwith turn Tenants to the other, and sometimes serv'd Forzario, and sometimes were all for Inganna. In fine the two Oppressours jealously emulating each others adherents, a Marriage, which, I dare say, was none of those which are made in Heaven, was contrived between Forzario and Inganna, which was speedily accomplish'd, but to our unspeakable discomfort; for now they began to try all the arts which Fraud united with Force can put in execution, to work our ruine. After many attempts made in vain, partly by reason of my Fathers perfect Inno∣cence, and partly by the prudent advice of a faithfull friend call'd Kalobulus, yet at last they brought it about, by the assi∣stance of a corrupt Judge call'd Labargurus, whom they kept in such constant pay to serve their turns, that he counted their annuall Bribes a great part of his Salary. He either with the pretence of obsolete Lawes, which no body remembred ever to have been made, or with wrested senses of known Statutes, had done them many notable services.

The Design of my Fathers Destruction was laid thus: La∣bargurus, you must know, was one who made it his constant practise to betray unwary people for speaking dishonourably of the Duke by whom that Country was then govern'd: those which are discontented are apt to speak against any body; and those which provok'd them to talk, and were also wit∣nesses of their speeches, were his false-hearted Spies. By these he was informed of some Words which my Father should say, in Company of which he was less carefull, not because he thought all that were present were just, but because he did ne∣ver speak any thing unjust. It seems my Father complain'd of some Wrongs that Labargurus had done, and said that if the Duke did but know, of them, he was confident they would soon be redress'd, and the Judge punish'd. Labargurus having heard this, in stead of washing away the guilt of his Crimes with true Repentance, took Sanctuary against the feares of his Conscience in Revenge; and giving money to two of his

Creatures that could sweare lustily, he fram'd this Accusation, That Philapantas did say, The Duke had done the people such Wrongs, that he was confident if they did but know their power, they would soon be redress'd, and the Duke deposed. So with the change of a few words, which perverted the sense of the rest, he drew up a Charge against Philapantas. Though this was incredible to most Good men, who knew Philapantas to be a most wary person and a loyall Subject; yet his con∣stant absence from the Court made the pretence plausible to such as loved to think ill of any. Though indeed my Father absented himself not for any private grudges which he har∣bour'd in his bosom, but because he saw great insecurity for an honest man to be, where through false representation of per∣sons and things, Friends could not be distinguish'd from Foes: And also for that whilst others multiplied their Titles, and swell'd their heaps of Money with hellish toils, he desir'd to enjoy the heavenly Tranquillity of his private life, and thereby take opportunity to provide for his Immortall secu∣rity, which is in dreadfull jeopardy through the various Tentations of Princes Courts.

Now though these dangers be common to all Courts, yet they were less avoidable in this then some others, because of Two great Imperfections to which the Duke was subject, which had such an unbenigne influence upon Court and Country, that he was happy that could enjoy himself quietly in a corner. One was, that he despis'd true Religion: for though to please the people, which were that way given, he made a show of some such thing; yet he vilified it both by the con∣stancy of an irreligious life, as also by such speeches which could become none but an Atheist; for he would commonly call them Fooles which pretended to put their whole trust in God, and laugh at the opinion of such as asserted the Immor∣tality of the Soul, especially when they talk'd of our being Judg'd in another World. Another was, that he carelesly dis∣pos'd places of Government and Justice, not much looking after Wisdome and Integrity in the choice of his Ministers, whose only Qualification was, their Willingnesse to serve his Designes; neither did he trouble himself to take any ac∣count

of their good or bad Administration, to give them En∣couragement or Punishment as they deserv'd: and from this fountain an Universall Corruption deriv'd it self upon all Or∣ders of men. By means whereof the Country, which before was deservedly renown'd throughout the World for Righteous∣ness, is now despis'd of all its Neighbours, and commonly call'd a Nation of degenerate Supplanters.

The Ministers of Justice, not abandoning the establish'd forms of Law, have made them however both useless to any good purpose, and also instruments of great Affliction: part∣ly by the unmercisull delaies of processe in Law, which com∣monly continue till both parties being impoverish'd can go no further, or one of them at least be so tormented, that he is come to the same passe with poor wretches upon the Rack, who are willing to say or do any thing to come off; partly whilst their Estates are squeez'd into the Lawyers purses by large Bribes for the forementioned delays and unjust Sentences.

The Grandees trample upon all below them, and count it the duty of the Poor to be oppress'd; living much according to the rule of those Beasts, the greater of which devour the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Poor desire any thing of them, they count it a kind of Rob∣bery, and order the same punishment for them that other Countries do for Cut-purses; and when through intolerable Miseries they wish they had never been born, they bid them kill themselves, and say that then they shall enjoy the same Comfort.

The Epidemical Degeneracy hath infected also the Mini∣sters of Religion, who being fallen from the true Knowledg and exemplary Vertue of their Predecessors, the Holy Fathers and Pious Martyrs, have compleated the scorn of their Igno∣rance with vitious practises; and are grown so unlike their Books, that even the rude multitude wonder upon what grounds they have set their confidence of giving Counsell, which they themselves render ineffectuall. But good men which live undiscern'd among them are much grieved, whilst they see those in whom Wit is deprav'd make a judgement of Religion by those foolish Opinions with which it is blended, and that many are tempted by the evil lives of Hypocrites, to

think Goodness it self but a Show, and Christian Religion a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and so sall into 〈◊〉〈◊〉, the plague of humane Na∣ture; which besides the Unreasonableness of it in other re∣spects, is also desiled with the baseness of Ingratitude, choaks in men all sense of the Divine presence, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to the Great Father of the World that affectionate Adoration which is due from all his children. Having thus lost the Love of God, they can never love one another; for after they have broken those strong ties which he fasten'd in the roots of their Souls, they make nothing of mutuall obligations to Love, Courtesie, Charity, Friendship or Justice, and at last are become Beasts and Devils, the very face of Humanity being lost. And this appeares too plainly in the practise of the Vulgar also, who have no understanding of Charity further then Self-love, which begins and ends at Home: They count it all lawfull gain that they can 〈◊〉〈◊〉 from others; and when it is done 〈◊〉〈◊〉, it goes for Honest Cunning and Ability of Parts.

But I have been too long in the description of an unlovely matter. The day for my Fathers Tryall being come, the Wit∣nesses were produc'd and sworn: and notwithstanding all that my Father alledged for the desence of his spotless Inno∣cence, and though divers Persons of Quality who were pre∣sent offer'd their testimony in the most solemn manner, that no such words were spoken at the place and time mentioned by the Witnesses, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 being Judge, my Father was condemn'd to dye. His 〈◊〉〈◊〉 were given to Forzario, who had some 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of desert to the Traitors Estate, having been a means to discover the Treason, as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 made the Duke believe: but the true reason of his doing so was a secret Compact made between him and Forzario, that if he could effect a Grant of the Estate, Labargurus should enjoy a fair Mannor which joyn'd to his own Lands. The unjust Sen∣tence was soon executed; and lest further mischief should 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me, (for the Cruell and Coverous are never satisfied) 〈◊〉〈◊〉, of whom I told you before, commanded two of his trusty servants to convey me on Horse-back by night to his Castle, whence I have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sometimes to repair unto the shades of this Grove, where I had the happinesse to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you, and

where I enjoy present safety, till God and Time shall bring the Truth to light.

I hope it will not be long before that be done, answer'd Bentivolio, who had fix'd his Eye upon Erotocleus all this while with carefull attention, and now found his heart deep∣ly grieved for the unparallell'd afflictions which by this Sto∣ry he understood; and esteeming no Glory like unto that which comes by relieving the oppressed, he breath'd forth this passionate Wish, O God, that I might be the happy instru∣ment to serve Righteousness in so fair an opportunity, and that I might have the Honour of procuring Punishment for two Wicked Persons that have so highly deserved itland with∣all desired Erotocleus to bring him to Kalobulus, saying, I doubt not but after a short conference we shall find out a way to vin∣dicate your Wrongs. Erotocleus despairing of that, yet receiving his courteous Sympathy with many thanks, began to direct him towards the Castle. They had gone but few steps before they met Kalobulus and his son 〈◊〉〈◊〉, who were come forth to seek Erotocleus, wondring what was become of him, because he had stay'd longer abroad then he was wont to do: and before they could express their doubts concerning Bentivolio, he presented him to Kalobulus, and pray'd him to receive a Friend of his into his knowledg, and desired that between them two he would equally divide the Love which he had hitherto bestow'd upon him singly. Kalobulus was ready at first to make question of such expressions concerning a Stranger; but beholding in his Countenance and Carriage more then or∣dinary Characters of great Worth, he welcom'd his happy ar∣rivall in that place with all affectionate Congratulations; ex∣pressing also a great hope which sprung up in his breast, that he was come to them by the Benignity of some Divine di∣rection. So having enquired his name, and commended his Son to his acquaintance, they went into the Castle.

They had stay'd there but a while before Kalobulus brought into the room his Vertuous Lady and two beautifull Daugh∣ters; and it gave them all extream content, whilst Bentivolio by the civility of his excuses for coming into their Company, made them well to perceive that he was not unworthy of it.

At Supper, which came in presently, they express'd their friendship in seasonable Viands of all sorts, handsomly serv'd up, though without Curiosity; which they perfected with Courtesie and excellent Discourse: Insomuch that Bentivolio could not but fancy that Goodness had taken Sanctuary in this Ark, till the Deluge of Wickedness, that overflowed that little World, should be abated. After Supper they entertain'd themselves with mutuall conference, not knowing how to leave such vigorous joyes for the dull repose of Sleep, which now begun to offer it self. But Nature requiring obedience to her indispensable Lawes, Kalobulus attended Bentivolio to his Chamber, where being left by them all with many good wishes, he retir'd himself to little sleep and less rest.

The severall discourses of Erotocleus his case, though they differ'd not from his own relation, yet they fill'd it with more instances of Cruel Wrongs, and seem'd to endeavour to boyle up Bentivolio's Courage, which was at a height already. He needed no spurs, who went as fast as Prudence gave him leave; for having affectionately desired so noble an End, he could not cease to cast about in his mind how he might ac∣complish it. But being not able at present to obtain the End which he passionately desired, for want of fit Means, he slack'd the intensiveness of his deliberation, and let his thoughts run adrift. After a wearisome Expectation, the Light, in mere pity, brought him the joyful news of Day; upon which he left his bed, and was scarce dress'd before the good Kalobulus knock'd at his door; which he opened with the greater chear∣fulness, because he hoped by his assistance to find that which he had sought in vain all night. Having acquainted Kalobulus with his mind; Alas, Sir, quoth he, though Erotocleus his Yoke is heavy, yet it doth not so pinch him as at the first; he having worn it so long that Custom hath fitted it to his neck: but this measure of Pity which you expresse will adde to his Afflicti∣ons, who is so sensible of all Circumstances that aggravate a Calamity, and of such an ingenuous regard to his friends, that he will more deeply resent the adversity of his present estate, if he understand that you are oppress'd with his Sufferings. Lay aside the trouble of your thoughts, Worthy Sir, and make

not this Castle your Prison, nor the love which you have for others your own Fetters, but rather enjoy the freedom which so mean a place may afford, and take not from us that relief which the chearfulness of your Converse doth bestow upon us in such plentiful measures of Consolation, that we have almost forgot∣ten that we are afflicted since your arrival. I would not urge those requests, but that I see your Charity doth design Cour∣tesies for us, which are so great that we are not capable of them: For nothing can make a price for the redemption of Erotocleus but the ruine of Forzario; and as we know that De∣struction is unacceptable to your Temper, so we know no means to accomplish it but one, which is as Unpleasant as the thing it self.

To this Bentivolio replied, I think my self not so much con∣cern'd as to make answer to the former part of your discourse, because I would not go about to magnifie so small a thing as my Love is; and I suppose the influences which you pretend it may reflect upon Erotocleus are but direct expressions of your own Civility to me: but if it be true that no other price is currant to redeem Erotocleus but such as will hurt Forzario if it be pay'd, I know not why we may not purchase so great a good with the just harms of so vile a person. I ever esteem'd Justice to be founded in Goodnesse, because Punishment was inven∣ted by God as a Guard to Righteousnesse; and since Impunity would drive Goodnesse out of the World, and make it unhabitable for Righteous and Meek persons, I count that Indulgence by which Malicious persons are saved from suffering, to be an in∣just punishment inflicted upon the Innocent. Clemency indeed is an incomparable imitation of the Divine Mercifulnesse: but it must be exercis'd in due instances, or else it may degenerate into Cruelty. If there were no occasion to strike at any time, the sword of Justice was made in vain. Those who have lived to destroy the publick good of mankind, ought by their Death to make a Compensation for their Wrongs: and as they are no lesse odious to God then men, because they do notoriously re∣bel against his Government, we are not to think that he hath taken so little care of the welfare of his Creatures, as that he doth not allow and require the removal of such Monsters. In

this respect therefore I see nothing that doth discourage my hopes of Erotocleus his restauration; and I trust the particular way, which you have not yet mention'd, is not of such an unhandsome nature, but that a good man may make use of it.

Unto this Kalobulus answer'd, Our forces are not so nume∣rous as to storm the strong Tower of Forzario; and if they were, we might not make use of them, for we have learn'd that Just men can then only warrant their actions whilst they are regulated by known Lawes: and though when others break them, one that is wrong'd may suffer honorably; yet he can∣not violate them himself, whilst he seeks reparation, but his endeavour will be sullied with Injustice. Our Law permits not one Subject to demand satisfaction of another in that way. The means which I thought of is allow'd by Law, I confesse; but I believe the Execution of it is as unsuitable to the Merci∣fulnesse and Patience of your disposition, as it is contrary to our desire that you should undertake it. It is this, When any person is wrong'd, and by the Violation of Law unjustly suffers the losse of his Life and Estate, the Law permits any man, that is not a-kin to the party wrong'd, nor concern'd by friendship, nor ever had any quarrell with the person who did the wrong, out of mere love to Justice, to chal∣lenge the Violator of Law to a single Combate, in which if he be kill'd, the former sentence of the Law is revers'd.

If this be all the difficulty, quoth Bentivolio, I doubt not but to satisfie you and my self as to the honorablenesse of the undertaking, and with God's help to procure satisfaction to Ero∣tocleus by the good successe of it. I perceive your scruple is the Unlawfulnesse of Duells; which as they are commonly practis'd, I do as much abhor as you do, and think that they are infi∣nitely below the Temper of a Gentleman and a Christian. As they rise for the most part from dishonourable grounds, so they proceed by unreasonable means. Who knowes not that though Honour is talk'd of as the reason of the Challenge, that the true occasion of the quarrell was but some slight affront receiv'd in a Taverne or some such place? Those which had not the Wis∣dom and Vertue to avoid unworthy actions, must needs pre∣tend to a generous Choler, which will not permit them to live unreveng'd of such wrongs as peradventure they procur'd

to themselves. Having never understood what true Courage signifies, much lesse express'd it upon any just occasion, they undervalue their lives which are not worth much, that they may be Masters of other mens as uselesse as their own; and think it a Bravery to rush upon Damnation, but durst never ex∣pose themselves to the hazards of a publick service, to save those who are more worthy to live then themselves. Such Persons as have abandon'd Patience, devested themselves of Humility, cashier'd all inclinations to Forgivenesse, and count the neglect of Revenge Cowardise, must needs find the belief of their Salvation impossible, if these things be other then Devilish qua∣lities. And whilst they look upon it as an ungentile thing to suffer wrong, they never scruple the doing of it, though that be a hun∣dred times more base: and they stand so upon a false notion of Reputation, that they cannot endure to be thought patient; that is, they undervalue the estimation of God and the opinion of Wise men, because they are unwilling that a few Fooles should take them for Cowards. The Heavenly Angels might with as good reason be angry, because many times in great buildings they are represented by little Boyes with wooden wings. They have another humour of which I cannot but take notice, and that is, These Bravado's will take it in great scorn if you should not think them Christians, whilst they ridiculously take their name from him whose nature did abominate such practises, and whose Life and Death was the most perfect contradiction to such a lownesse of Temper that can be imagin'd. They should rather derive their Pedigree from Lamech, who would not stick to kill any body for the least scratch of his skin.

By this which I have discours'd, Kalobulus, you may perceive how unwilling I am by my example to patronize those murde∣rous Duells, in which hot young men engage, when Wine, Wo∣men and mutuall provocations have begun such quarrells as accept of no determination but by the sword. No, I under∣take this piece of Justice, only as the Magistrates servant, war∣ranted by Law, which at present needs this Vindication, with∣out any desire of Revenge, for I have suffer'd no Wrong; but to take off the guilt of Philapantas his blood which lies upon Argentora, that he which afflicted the Good in his life, may

〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Wicked by his death, and by this means, which is all that is left, to right Erotocleus.

Kalobulus perceiving the zeal of Bentivolio's Good will, no∣thing doubting his skill in arms, assured of the Justice of the Cause by his own Knowledg, and convinc'd of the lawfulness of the redresse propounded, by Bentivolio's discourse, struck with admiration by the Contemplation of his unparallel'd Accom∣plishments, replyed that he could not but approve of his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 design, undertaken with so much Wisdom and Valour. But do you think Forzario will accept a Challenge, said Bentivo∣lio? There is no doubt of that, quoth Kalobulus, for he loves to fight with any body, and is possess'd with such great thoughts, that in Comparison of himself he despiseth all the World: And withall he desir'd Bentivolio to permit a Second to attend him: to which he agreed. And whilst Kalobulus was consulting with himself whom to appoint, Thrasymachus whispering in his eare, desired him to nominate himself: which his Father did, and pray'd Bentivolio to accept of his Sons offer, who was ambitious to serve under so great a Captain in the behalf of Erotocleus. Bentivolio giving great thanks to the Young Gentleman, call'd for a Pen and paper; which being brought, he wrote these Words:

FORZARIO,

Your Wickednesse hath made you odious to the World, and the instances upon which your In∣famy is rais'd are so full of Cruelty and Inju∣stice, that you cannot wonder if the Revenge which they have long call'd for come at last. Though you have attempted the security of your first Wrongs with greater, which were all the means you could find; yet this paper will let you know, that there are some in the world who dare reprove you, and will make you at length see that your Crimes are punishable, if your guilty Fears

will permit you, arm'd on Horse-back with Sword and Lance, to meet me to morrow by Sun-rise, attended only with a Second and Trumpet in the plain of Nemesia which ad∣joyns to the great Wood; where you shall make some amends for your Sins with your fall, by the hand of one who hath a Good will for all but such as you are.

BENTIVOLIO.

A Trumpeter which waited upon Kalobulus speedily con∣veyed it according to his directions. Forzario had no sooner read it, but he commanded to stay the Messenger for his an∣swer, which he should have presently. So never making questions concerning Bentivolio, because he disdain'd to take any notice of one that durst affront him but by Revenge, he wrote this following Answer.

BENTIVOLIO,

I need no informer to make me understand what kind of person is signified by that odd name; your Paper hath reveal'd your Imperfections. I am forc'd to judge you one of no Vertue, because you have learn'd to revile those whom you do not know but by misreport. And though I do not think you worthy of the Honor to be Chastis'd by my hand, yet I will condescend to meet you according to your appointment: to give you such punishment, as may teach other Wanderers bet∣ter manners when they passe by this Country, and that no troublesome Fellow for the time to come may be so foolishly impudent as to provoke

FORZARIO.

Bentivolio was not a little glad when by the answer he under∣stood that he should have opportunity to make good his pro∣fer of assistance to violated Justice, and awaiting the early dawn of the following Morne, was guided by the first ap∣proches of light, and accompanied with the Valiant Thrasy∣machus, being unwilling by delay to give occasion to the dis∣dainfull humor of Forzario to return, if he should come first and misse him at the Place appointed. But he stay'd not long before his expected Adversary appeared like himself, and ac∣cording to the descriptions by which he was painted in Benti∣volio's Fancy.

Forzario seeing his Adversary upon the place, thought to an∣swer his readinesse with such a payment as it deserv'd; and therefore not to make him stay any longer, without attending the Trumpets, spurring his Horse, who was not unwilling to such exercises, rode with a full Careere, aiming a rough salute with his Lance at Bentivolio: who being well skill'd in receiving and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 such Civilities, made what haste he could to meet him, and return'd him one of like Nature, though not of the same Effect. Bentivolio's Lance pierc'd Forzario's Arme: Forzario's, though it lighted upon such a piece of Bentivolio's armour as de∣fied the sharpnesse of the point, yet as it broke, it made him bow so far backward, that he had almost lost the possession of his Saddle; which he having presently recovered, they fell to their Swords. Though none could tell who drew first, Bentivolio receiv'd the first blow, and that follow'd with so many more, that his action lay chiefly in the Defensive; which part he was the rather willing to act for the present, because he knew the shower which fel in such thick drops would soon be over. This he perform'd with such accurate Skill, that it made up what∣soever he wanted of Force; of which also he had sufficient store to let his Enemy know by what he felt, that he could hurt as well as ward.

When they had spent some time in giving and receiving blowes, often accompanied with Wounds, their losse of blood made each of them perceive that both were in earnest: but the businesse they had in hand so fill'd their thoughts, that they took notice of their Hurts with such an undiscernable resent∣ment,

as wise men receive the Wrongs of disingenuous People.

Forzario boyling with desperate Rage, confident of his Strength, and prick'd with a disdain of so unequall a match as he esteem'd Bentivolio, having given many such strokes as sig∣nified a strong Arm enforc'd with stronger desires of Revenge, (which for all that he saw still uneffected) vex'd that he should be so long troubled with one whom he had dispatch'd in his thoughts a hundred times before he saw him; now having, as he thought, an advantage of a slack guard, which he greedily snatch'd, bestow'd a blow upon Bentivolio, with which he had great hopes to strike off his Head.

But Bentivolio, whose Courage was rooted in a Temper unacquainted with base Fear, though principally supported with the Noblenesse and Justice of his undertakings, and ful∣ly acquainted with all manner of defence against an over∣match which exceeded him only in Strength, being well a∣ware of Forzario's purpose, easily avoided that foreseen dan∣ger, and summoning his whole power to assist him in an e∣minent piece of service, reach'd such a stroke as would have sav'd him the labour of any more, but that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Horse rai∣sing up the fore-part of his body, by reason of a sharp prick of his Masters spurs, which he us'd to make him go nearer to his Enemy, receiv'd it for him: but it was the last service he could perform, for it fell upon his neck, and cut so deep into it, that he could neither bear up his head nor his Master; and falling he lay so heavy upon Forzario's thigh, that he could not rise from under him. Bentivolio perceiving what disadvan∣tage had happen'd without his intention, spake presently to For∣zario, Wicked Man, That which was justly threatned may now easily be accomplish'd: but I never engaged for bloody Revenge, but took this way, since no other was left, to at∣tempt the reparation of unspeakable Wrongs; not wherein my own Interest suffer'd, but such as made a publick Violation of Justice. If thou wilt yield to Right, and submit to the just du∣ty of Repentance, I will prevent that speedy Vengeance which otherwise must needs await thee in the Infernall shades. To this Forzario scornfully answer'd, No, Villain, use the advan∣tage

of a baseblow; I am not so low as to receive my life by way of alms from thee. Upon this Bentivolio lighted from his Horse (to give him assurance, that his Custom was not by u∣sing ignoble odds to destroy that Honour which he doubted not with a little more patience to receive unblemish'd;) inten∣ding to pull off Forzario's Horse, that he might try his Fortune once more on foot. As he came to him, he perceiv'd he had clear'd his leg himself, and was rising up. Bentivolio willing to understand what he would yet do before he struck at him a∣gain, perceiv'd a Company of Horsemen rush out of a Wood which was not very far off. It seems, Inganna seeing her Hus∣band fall, not knowing what was the cause, but much fearing that of which she saw so bad an effect, which she also judg'd worse then it was, commanded a Troop of Horse to fall in, which she had lay'd in Ambush in the Woods the night before, intending by them basely to recover what her Husband had dishonorably lost.

Bentivolio suspecting some such thing, having heard of In∣ganna, heightning his desires of ending with One, by the fore∣sight of Villany and Danger which attended him from Many more, (though they made a stop after they perceiv'd Forzario and Bentivolio both upon their feet) and imploring the Divine aid, struck Forzario such a blow upon the head, that made him bow it a little on one side; his Helmet being rais'd withall, Bentivolio with such agility as that opportunity required, ran his sword into his Throat through his Neck: upon which Forzario falling down, made such haste out of the world, that he took his leave of it without speaking one word.

Erotocleus, plac'd with a select Troop of Horse behind a Hill, not far from the place of the Fight, to prevent all base attempts, by the prudence of Kalobulus, who imagin'd what Inganna would do, made sufficiently carefull by his love to Bentivolio, and now perceiving plainly what was past and coming, made speed to his friend, and having assisted Thrasymachus to catch his horse, (the other Second having refus'd to strike in a Cause which he knew to be as unjust as Forzario was unsuccessefull) Bentivolio mounted, and before the joyfull Erotocleus could ex∣presse his thanks to Bentivolio, Inganna's Horse were come up to

them. And now the single Fight was converted into a bloody Battell, where many began to try, on one side if they could re∣gain what a single person had lost, and the other side to keep what one had won.

Erotocleus desir'd Bentivolio to retire and look to his Wounds, of which Kalobulus would gladly have taken care; but he re∣fus'd their entreaties, making no question but this would prove a short businesse: and finding his spirits hold out still, though much wearied, resolved to accompany his friends till the work was done. Erotocleus perceiving his resolution, trou∣bled him no further, and having stood idle all this while, de∣siring to go and warm himself a little, spurr'd his Horse to charge that forlorn Company so basely engaged, and to show them the dreadfull face of just Revenge; whose first effects he bestow'd upon the Captain of that Wicked Band, who had been a servant to his Father, but revolted to Forzario, by the perswasions of Inganna and his own ambitious Hopes: carry∣ing death in each look, he rode up close to him, and with the first blow clest his Head in two equall pieces. A just punish∣ment for him, who had so dishonorably divided his false Heart between two so contrary Masters.

Thrasymachus making way with his sword into the midst of the Troop, where Inganna was, having kill'd those which of∣fer'd to guard her, took her prisoner: Erotocleus, hewing down those which made resistance, came into the Confirmation of Thrasymachus his safety, who was surrounded with Enemies.

Bentivolio seeing the rest of the Troop follow their Leader couragiously through the Wounds and death of their adver∣saries, thought it was no great matter if he fought a while, to shorten the trouble of his friends, though it was needlesse to the procurement of Victory, which did voluntarily attend them. The Forzarians fell so easily before him that by the effects of his Courage one would think he had but now begun to fight.

Here one might have taken a full notice what Feeblenesse and Fear a guilty Conscience forceth into the actions of men. For though Inganna's numbers were so unequall, that they judg'd themselves two to one of the other side; yet their hearts

so fail'd them, that by their fighting one would have thought them not one to ten. After the first brunt, in which some few were slain, they soon discovered what would become of the rest. These Forzarians having approv'd their Valour in former undertakings, show'd that now their Courage wanted a Cause, not their Cause a Courage. The thoughts which they reflected upon their unworthy engagement, which were more piercing by reason of the presence of Erotocleus whom they unjustly oppos'd, disanimated them, for they were ap∣pall'd as people besieged in a Castle use to be, when the ene∣my is not only got within the walls, but a great party riseth up against them amongst themselves; so that not knowing who is for them, who against them, they neglect the use of their Arms, through a great uncertainty of killing their Friends or their Enemies. Bentivolio took speedy notice of it, and as soon as a few were punish'd to make Examples of unhappy Wicked∣nesse, he being alwaies mercifull where it was not necessary to be severe, desired Erotocleus that they might have Quarter given them: which was as soon granted as ask'd. Inganna was brought before them by Thrasymachus, and she had suffered death already in her Expectations; which Bentivolio percei∣ving, No, Wicked Woman, No, saith he, you shall live a little longer then you think, you shall be reserv'd to satisfie Justice by an Exemplary suffering; and in the mean time committed her prisoner to Argus, one of Kalobulus his servants, commanding him to look well to her, and to keep her in some safe place of the Castle.

It were too tedious to report the affectionate Embraces which Erotocleus bestow'd upon Bentivolio, the courteous gra∣tulations of Kalobulus, and the passionate love of Thrasymachus: but they made their Complements the shorter, considering that it was necessary to retire to the Castle, and take order for the cure of Bentivolio's Wounds; which was accomplish'd in a short time by the excellent skill of Kalobulus his Lady.

The newes of Forzario's death was soon spread over Argen∣tora, and put the Court into a great Wonder: only Labargurus was observ'd above all others to be possess'd with a particular Grief; which was encreas'd, as also the Cause of it discove∣red,

by an Accident that happen'd. One of the Witnesses which had sworn against Philapantas, being tormented with the conscience of his Villany, upon the newes of Forzario's death, which he knew to be inflicted by Divine Vengeance, felt his pains so intolerable, that he was weary of his life, and immediately hang'd himself. The Other hearing of it was not able to conceal the Wickednesse any longer, but went to the Duke, and confess'd to him, that by the Instigation of La∣bargurus he and his Partner had forsworn themselves, by which Perjury Philapantas was condemn'd. Labargurus being in pre∣sence, and confounded with the discovery of his Villany, fell down upon his knees and begg'd pardon for his Life. You shall not die, said the Duke, till I shall receive such a discovery of your Wickednesse, as that by it I may understand to appoint you such a death as you deserve. For it is but fit that you should die miserably, who by perverting Justice have made others live so. This the Duke said more willingly to give content to the people, who loved Philapantas; and forthwith he sent for Kalobulus, and desired him to bring Erotocleus and Bentivo∣lio, assuring him that his meaning was only to be better in∣form'd in the late action, and to make such reparation of Ero∣tocleus his Wrongs as the late notice of them which he had receiv'd did require. The Gentleman who carried the Mes∣sage, instructed them fully in the particulars. Each of them giving thanks to the Divine Providence, which takes care of the Oppressed, they came to the Duke, who condol'd with Ero∣tocleus for the unfortunate death of his Worthy Father, with re∣sentment of his own losse of such a Faithfull Subject; assuring him of the re-possession of his Lands; and withall added, that though he could not recall Philapantas his Life, yet he would perfect the Revenge of his Death, which was in part inflict∣ed upon the Wicked Forzario: and immediately gave order that Labargurus should be brought to his Tryal. Turning to∣wards Bentivolio, he express'd the great Joy which he had for the arrivall of a person so Honourable in his Country, as also a high admiration of his skillful Courage, and much more of his great Good will, which made him undertake such a dangerous relief of a wrong'd Gentleman; and having signi∣fied

much content in the death of one that was so unworthy to live, he saluted Kalobulus, much praising the constancy of his Love to his Friend in Distresse, and his prudent conduct in the late Action.

As they were talking, a messenger brought word that La∣bargurus was come. The Duke, accompanied with his chief Lords, as also with Bentivolio and Erotocleus, whom he desired to go along with him, sate down in the Judgement-seat, and caused Proclamation to be made, that whosoever could justly accuse Labargurus, should have free Liberty to do it. Where∣upon abundance of Witnesses of his unparallel'd unrighteous∣nesse, silenc'd before with fear of his Power, and frequent experiences of his Malice, came in and spake freely against him; some accusing him of the Wrongs which they had suffe∣red from him, others of such as he had made them do. Justice complain'd that he had banish'd her out of the Courts of Judica∣ture and the Assemblies of Merchants, and commanded her to ab∣sent her self from all places of Civil Contracts. Authority said that he had prostituted her to every unjust design. Simplicity accus'd him for making a disgraceful show of her in his crafty underta∣kings. Order laid to his charge, that she was ever put out of place when it serv'd his Interest. Equity affirm'd that she could never obtain leave to speak against the least quillet in Law. Re∣ligion challeng'd him for defiling the profession of Holynesse with Covetousnesse, for which purpose only he had courted her with a false Heart. Some Widdowes which stood by alleged a∣gainst him, that he had made their Teares more Salt with the Wrongs of Fatherlesse Children. On the other side, Bribery confess'd that she was his Creature, and had not been but that she was begotten by his Dishonesty. Partiality acknowledged that she us'd to incline contrary to the right side for his friends sake. Delay said that she would not have way-lay'd expedition when poor people expected her coming, but that Bradion, his chief Clerk, bad her do it, till he had got more money. The Jury denyed not that they had often given wrong Verdicts, but that it was by private directions from Labargurus. Rapine excus'd her self, that she would have been gone, but that she could not get out of his hands. False-witnesse testified against her self, but

added, that she would have been silent, but that she saw he loved not the Truth. Revenge avowed that she was wearied, and would have taken her leave, but that he bad her stay, for he could make good use of her. Craft protested that she would have been asham'd to have shewn her face, but that he help'd her to a vizard, and sometimes gave her an old Law∣book to hold before her. Strife contended that she would ne∣ver have come, but that he sollicited her. Power mantain'd that she would have omitted much which she had done, but that he said it was right. The surviving Witnesse call'd Pseudorces confirm'd his first acknowledgment, that the death of Phila∣pantas was plotted between Labargurus and Forzario, and that he took a false oath with his Companion, now dead, against his Conscience, meerly at their instigation, and for a small summe of money, which yet Labargurus never paid him. The Duke astonish'd at these wickednesses, Labargurus having before con∣fess'd his Guilt, he condemn'd him and Pseudorces to be hang'd both together upon one gallowes; and that, for a terrour to such as should succeed in Labargurus his place, his Hands should be cut off and nail'd upon the seat where he had perverted right.

A little after Execution was perform'd, the messenger which was sent for Inganna return'd with very unwelcome newes, to wit, that she had made an escape; and though they had pur∣sued her very hard, they could not overtake her, nor meet any that would discover where she was. The manner of her e∣scape was thus: Argus her keeper one Evening being about to drink, one came running hastily towards the Prison dore, cry∣ing Fire, Fire, near to the Magazine of Powder, make haste to quench it, or else we shall all be blown up. Argus fearing that Inganna had corrupted some of the House to play this wicked trick, sets down his Cup near the grate of the Prison Win∣dow, and hastned to assist the rest in preventing the danger which threatned them. Inganna espying his Cup, took her time and put therein some Opiate Ingredients, which she car∣ryed about her for ill uses. The fire being quench'd by the Diligence of the servants, Argus makes haste to his charge, not knowing what was done, and being more then ordinarily

thirsty, he drinks, and sits down by the Grate. But the pow∣der working upon his Senses, he falls asleep. She takes the key of the Dore out of his Pocket, quietly opens the Grate, and pulls him in, cuts his throat, pulls off his cloathes, and puts him in her bed, and her own cloathes upon it, which she had chang'd for his; so locking the dore, when it was dark went away. No body at first suspecting her to be gone, though they miss'd Argus, especially because for two dayes before she pretended to be sick: but when they could not find her keeper, nor make her answer at the dore, they suppos'd that she was dead. But remembring that it was Inganna, they suspected something worse, and so breaking open the dore they found what had happen'd.

The Relation of this unfortunate Accident was trouble∣some to them all, but especially to Bentivolio, who had enter∣tain'd so much Good will for others, that he had a natural grief for their afflictions, and he counted Inganna's Liberty to be one of the greatest imaginable, and indeed no less a mischief to mankind, then the raging Sea is to a Country when it hath broke through the guard of the Banks. But well knowing how comfortless that Pity is which doth not relieve those of whom we have compassion, he resolv'd to undertake the pur∣suite of Inganna, and, if he possibly might, to take her once more, or to hunt her so close as to drive her out of the Coun∣try, and at least, as he went along, to undoe her works, to un∣deceive the people, and having tryed his utmost, to hasten ac∣cording to his promise towards Vanasembla. That he might overtake the Fox before she had Earth'd her self, he thought it was not amisse to send Hue and Crie after Inganna; and that she might be more easily known, one of Kalobulus his servants put into it this short Description of her Person and Manners:

If any chance to meet the famous Inganna, lately broke loose from her Keeper, let them take heed they be not cheated themselves; and for the bene∣fit of others, bring her prisoner to the Castle of Haplotes, where they will find a great reward for

their paines. She is known by these marks. She hath such squint Eyes, that none can tell which way she looks. She hath two Tongues, and a great faultring in her speech. She is covered with a party∣color'd Mantle, which she changeth continually into divers fashions. She often wears a Religious Mask, and goes very seldom with naked Breasts, (but it is not for Modesty sake) yet sometimes she doth. She loves to walk in the night, and is never without a dark Lanthorn. In the day-time she may be seen in Tradesmens shops, especially such as have half-lights. She attends all sorts of Manu∣factures, and teacheth Artificers to adulterate eve∣ry second pattern of their works. She frequents all places of Commerce, for few bargains are made without her. You will not fail of her, where you see any take up great summs of money with an inten∣tion to break. If you hear any man give another such Counsel as serves his own ends, but hurts his friend that ask'd it, no doubt he is one of her ac∣quaintance. There is no servant that hath learn'd to cheat his Master, but is one of her Disciples. If you meet any that complain of divulging their se∣crets, or the denyall of money which they bad in∣trusted with a false friend, they can tell you where she dwells. If you find broken promises scatter'd upon the ground, you may track her by them. Be sure to enquire for her of such as speak with many protestations, and forget not to search where you perceive great shows of Honesty.

So having sent a discreet messenger, to raise the Beast which he purpos'd to Hunt, in order to his design he declar'd his Re∣solutions to Erotocleus and Kalobulus; and having given them thanks for the noble Courtesies with which they had enter∣tain'd him, he pray'd them to dismisse him with the same good Affection, assuring them that whereever he should be, he would never forget the Obligations which their Friendship had put upon him.

Whosoever had been present when Erotocleus and Kalobulus heard this unwelcome newes, they might have seen in a lively Representation how hard a thing it is to Ingenuous Spirits to part with such a Friend, whose singular Vertues have engag'd their Affections. For they having plac'd Bentivolio in the most inward room of their Hearts, when they saw that the time of his departure was come, complain'd against the rigid Lawes of Place, which confine us to such a narrow compass, that many times we have not liberty to be where we most desire. They resented a separation from Bentivolio not only as a streight Imprisonment, but as a Cruell sort of Death. But though by reason of their Passion they forgot that it is not by Chance but Design that Good men are disper's upon the Earth, that like greater Stars mingled with smaller they may Illuminate and Adorne the ruder parts of the World; yet when they recol∣lected themselves, they made use of their Philosophy, and were Obedient to those Precepts which require us to preserve an E∣quality of Temper in all the Changes of our Life; lest by re∣pining when we are deprived of some Benefits which we for∣merly enjoy'd, we take an unjust Occasion to neglect our Gra∣titude for having been happy so long: And perceiving that Bentivolio's stay was burdensome, where he thought his pre∣sence not so usefull, they gave him a constrain'd leave to prose∣cute his own most noble Resolutions; only Thrasymachus, who could not so suddenly bear a Divorce from one whose Vertues had stollen away his heart, had leave to accompany him so long as till Bentivolio should desire him to return.

Inganna kept on her former Course, being entertain'd by some of her old Acquaintance, where she remain'd undiscove∣red a great while, and by her secret negotiations corrupted the

Inhabitants of Argentora; of which Bentivolio was forc'd, as he went along, to be sad a Witness.

As he and Thrasymachus were riding through the Woods, with which that Country doth abound, in a place where the Bushes were thick and tall, they heard a dolefull cry, which by reason of the feeble softness of it, they guess'd to be the last breathings of some dying person. Spurring forward, as they were directed by that sad call, they soon perceived a dismal oc∣casion of such a lamentable sound, which was a young Vir∣gin in the hands of two cruell Murderers, who were appoint∣ed for the Concernments of another to take away her life, and hide her Body where it should be in vain for any to seek it. Be∣ing come to a place which they judg'd meet for the purpose, one of the Villains, having base desires of another sort which he meant to satisfie first, was attempting that dishonour which the Hangmen of Rome us'd to perform upon Virgins before they were executed, because till then their Law permitted them not to be put to death. The Lady was so enfeebled with cry∣ing and striving and fear, that she was scarce able to defend her self any longer. Bentivolio with a loud voice call'd to the Trai∣tor, saying, Hold thy hands, or I will cut them off. At these words he being somewhat startled, and forc'd at present to give an unwilling obedience, without the least respect to one whom he judg'd much unworthy to speak after that manner to him, resolv'd to make him eat them up again: but a few blowes which he received made him very sensible of the folly of his thoughts, though the death that went along with them made Repentance too late for him. The other Villaine would have saved himself by flight; but Thrasymachus pursuing him, spoyl'd his running by a blow upon his right Leg. They pre∣serv'd his life, both that he might be a Witnesse of the Wrongs intended, and a means to discover the Wicked Authors of such a barbarous Plot.

The Gentleman who had appointed this Murder, had orde∣red three Horsemen to follow at an undiscern'd distance, to know whether the design took effect, which they were to se∣cure, if it fail'd in the others hands; Wickednesse being ever su∣spicious: and they rushing out of a Thicket, made a weak essay

to perfect what was so ill begun by the other two. But be∣ing encountred much contrary to their expectation, they soon repented of their appearance in such a wicked businesse: for Bentivolio ran the first through the belly; and as he was falling off his Horse, Thrasymachus made a second headless; the third betook himself to flight, but before Bentivolio could overtake him, he had broke his neck, having in his fearful haste mis∣guided his Horse into a place which was full of Pits.

The Lady, when they were gone out of sight, began to take up her feares again, which she had layd aside before, and not knowing whither to go, went however where she thought she might best be sheltred with the darkest shades. They examin'd the lame fellow, who was crawling up and down, and he did them one more service then they reserv'd him for, by telling them which way she was gone. Making speed after her to perfect her Deliverance, they soon overtook one that could not go very fast, though Fear drove her on beyond her ordi∣nary pace; and being amaz'd at the first noise of the Horses feet, she could scarce believe her self out of danger, when she saw the faces of those which rescued her: as one that hath been troubled with a perplex'd Dream of Death, is ready to think when he awakes that he is but in a new Dream of Life. But assured by their words of their Compassion for her Sufferings, and offers of their best assistance to carry her where she desired to be, and having had as much experience as that small por∣tion of Time could allow of their Vertuous disposition, she recovered her spirits, and declared at their request the reason of that calamitous state in which they found her, and in which she had perished but for their seasonable approch. Thanking Heaven and them for her deliverance she began thus; I am call'd Orphana, my Father was a Gentleman of good Quality in this Country, who dyed when I was much younger then I am now. My Mother having plac'd her life wholly in his, took such a deep impression of his death into her heart, that she dyed so soon after him that they were both buryed in one grave. My Father by his Will made a kinsman of his my Guar∣dian, hoping much by reason of a great Friendship which had been between them, and because of many obligations

which he had put upon him in his life-time; as also thinking that he had such a love to the sacred right of Trust, that he would faithfully preserve my Estate, and do his best for my happy E∣ducation. I my self thought so a great while, till I found my self deceiv'd with the out-side of a fair Carriage, which in time wore off, and his in-side then appear'd to be of another Na∣ture. He had a Son of Gentile Carriage, but unworthy Con∣ditions, whom he would have made my Husband; for which purpose he had endeavoured for a long time by divers Artifices to gain my affections for him. Having us'd many other means to no purpose, at last he tried Menaces, threatning in generall that it should be worse for me, without adding the particular significations of his meaning: but I understood them too soon; for after I had urg'd him with the performance of his Faith engag'd to my Father, by setling my Estate according to his Gift; he stoop'd to a most barbarous means of enjoying his will another way, and made use of the Villain who had been my servant to perswade me to take the aire in this Forrest. What else they intended you know without my relation, ha∣ving been Ey-witnesses of unspeakable Wrong. But if you will conduct me to the City where I dwell, the Judge, (who knew my Father, and, as they say, is return'd to an exact care of Justice, by reason of some late Accidents which gave him a sad notice of his former Neglects) I make no doubt will deliver me from my cruell Gaoler, and restore me to my Estate with the enjoyment of my Liberty. Though I esteem you not such as do good that you may be requited, yet you shall ever be remembred with such Honour as I can possibly give to the Restorers of my Life and the Preservers of my Chastity.

Bentivolio receiving a Confirmation of her Story from the lam'd Villaines confession, saw, as he thought, a fair opportu∣nity to send Thrasymachus back again: for though he took a true delight in his Company, yet he knew by this time he be∣gan to be expected by such as dismiss'd him only upon con∣dition of his Return: so entreating him to perform such a Ci∣vility as the Ladies necessity requir'd, and as his own affaires would not well permit him to show, he pray'd him to accept of this occasion to return to Kalobulus, giving him a thousand

thanks for his Love. Thrasymachus encompass'd with a double necessity, both of performing what he had promis'd, and of what was fit to be done, though it was not promis'd, con∣strain'd himself to leave Bentivolio against his will, and to keep his word; which did as much grieve him, as comfort the Lady, seeing the inforcement of his affectionate Teares a means destinated to the perfecting of her Joy. Having tyed the lame fellow to his horse, that he might give an account of his Errand, and mounted the Lady upon her own Beast, not brought thither to carry her back again, Thrasymachus took his leave of Bentivolio.

Bentivolio receiving no other content from his stay in a Country which presented him only with new instances of In∣ganna's Malice, except the pleasure of relieving some that were out-witted by her Craft, resolved to pursue her a little further; though he had sought her in many places to no purpose, be∣cause those which knew where she lurk'd would not discover her. He heard often where she had been, but all denyed her presence, when he came to enquire for her where she was. At last being well wearied, he left off his Pursuit, and took the nearest way to Vanasembla, wishing heartily that he might tra∣vaile quietly without the disturbance of such undesirable oc∣currences: though he had some reason to suspect the Event of his Wishes amongst such people as willingly conceal'd In∣ganna.

That we do more easily meet the Evils we fear, then ob∣tain the Goods we desire, he presently found by a new Expe∣rience: for coming down into a lonesome Dale, he spyed a very unequall Fight: Three gave so many blowes to One, that it was a great wonder he was able to receive them; yet having so many more then he desired, made him give them some again. One of the Three seeing Bentivolio come upon the Gallop, and suspecting what he was, being taught to fear by his guilty Conscience, never asking for what he came, he gave him such a Welcome with his Sword, that he received not much thanks for it. But Bentivolio having drawn his Sword so soon as he began to see he should have use of it, gave him such a requitall upon his right Arme, that he utterly spoyl'd

him for that sort of Complement; and that he might not be troubled with him when he should have less leisure to attend him, he cut off his other Hand too, having but a little before seen them both very ill employed. So coming in to take part with the wrong'd Gentleman, the match was equall; though he saw by what was done, that the two which oppress'd one had not only a Mind to hurt, but also a great Ability to do it ill bestow'd upon them. After a short debate, Bentivolio deci∣ded the Controversie; for one of them, through a rash haste to do harm, not taking sufficient care to prevent it, left his body not so well guarded as the greatnesse of his present dan∣ger required. Bentivolio not slighting such an advantage, struck him such a blow under the Ribs, that his Guts came forth, and disenabled him from fighting any more. And refusing to pursue his Victory further, when two should fight with one, he turn'd toward the wrong'd Gentleman; and supposing by the Modesty of his looks that it was no proud fury of a mad Challenge, he demanded what strange accident had brought him to such an unequall engagement, and who they were that had so unworthily set upon him. Good Sir, said he, be content that I delay to give you an answer so long as till I may secure yonder fellow whom you have justly deprived of his wicked hands, from killing himself: for though I esteem his life as little as he doth, yet I think he may die more sea∣sonably, and his death may be us'd to some better purpose then now it can. He, it seems, was running his head forcibly against the ground to have broke his Neck: but that failing, he was making full butt against a Tree to dash out his Brains. The Gentleman having rescued him from himself, who came thither to destroy him that saved him, began to give an ac∣count to Bentivolio of what he ask'd. Sir, said he, it is but just that I should obey whatsoever you command, to whom I must ever owe my life. This Fellow whose Hands you have cut off, is call'd Doulogynes; and though he was a Gentleman born, I may not falsly call him a Woman's slave, for he hath un∣worthily devoted himself to the unjust pleasure of a cruell Step-mother of mine, and I am afraid that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hither to day by her order to do the last of many disservices which I

have received from her by his hands. The other whom you have unbowell'd is nam'd Misokalon. I never wrong'd him, that I know of, or gave him any such provocation that re∣quir'd satisfaction by my Ruine; only I took notice of a great change in his carriage towards me, after I had reprov'd him for his Intemperate life, and refus'd to assist him once in a most unrighteous design of betraying an Innocent person. This o∣ther Gentleman I do not know so well as to be able to tell you who he is, having seen him very seldom, if more then once in all my life: and I cannot but wonder how he came inga∣ged in this unexpected quarrell with me, who never wrong'd him in the least instance.

Sir, said the Gentleman, I would you had for ever been ig∣norant of me, for then I should not have been found in this unworthy Action: But if you will so far forgive me as to hear the Cause, you will more easily pardon the Effect. My name is Abulus: I have for some time made love to a young Gentlewoman, which dwells in a house where you have sometimes visited her Brother. One of the servants, this Miso∣kalon here, pretended a great love to me, and would needs take me aside one day to impart something to me which did nearly concern me; which was, that you were my Rivall, but managed your Affections so unhandsomly, that when you visited her under pretence of seeing her Brother, you had given a Character of my self which fitted none but the Basest of per∣sons; laying several things to my charge which I did never so much as think of before. He told me, if I desired the usuall satisfaction, I might have opportunity to ask it in this place; for that he knew you had appointed to be here to day upon some other occasions. This brought me hither alone: but what Misokalon came for, or how that man knew of my in∣rentions, I understand not. Only after I had engaged, they came in barbarously upon some design of their own, though I earnestly desired them to desist, as you know. Doulogynes see∣ing the truth so far reveal'd, and not caring what effects the full discovery might work upon one that was weary of his life, confess'd that he and Misokalon had plotted the businesse; but that it was wholly to gratifie the Gentlemans Mother-in-Law,

who had applyed Misokalon's hatred against him to serve her own Revengeful heart: upon promise of Rewards they had engag'd Abulus to do that which they durst not undertake of themselves, by making him an enemy upon his own score with feign'd Stories.

Bentivolio being well assured that this Mystery had many considerable pieces not yet related, desir'd the wrong'd Gentle∣man to perfect the report, that he might more fully understand the Particulars of that Cause, of which he knew so much in the Generall, that he was sure he had taken his part justly. The Gentleman answer'd, I am an unfortunate instance of the unhappinesse of Second Marriages. As the World hath so far understood the mischief of Polygamy, which ruineth Fami∣lies with a promiscuous brood of severall Wives, and keeps them in the everlasting fire of Emulations and Hatred, that it hath wisely turn'd it out of most Nations by severe punish∣ments, and usually death enjoyn'd by wholesome Lawes: so I should think they did prudently, if they took a little more care to prevent the hurt of Second Marriages, where the decea∣sed Parent hath left a considerable number of Children. For in that case it is accompanied with most of the forementioned mischiefs, jealous Feares, Suspicions encreas'd by suspicions, mutuall Hatreds, and cruell undermining of the Interests of the former Brood. By which means a Step dame is become a name of Reproach and dishonorable Application, being seldom destitute of an ill Nature; except in an inconsiderable number, who are endu∣ed with rare Vertue. I did never wonder that the King of Glory requir'd the honorable Ministers of his Kingdom to be such as could govern their own Families well; for it was fit they should give a proof of their abilities for his service by the ex∣emplary order of their own Houses: but I understood not why he would have them the Husbands of one Wife: but when I con∣sidered the difficulty of Exemplarinesse in any thing but Dis∣order, in Families which confounded two distinct generati∣ons of Children, whose interests are much separated by the Se∣cond Wife, I admired the excellent coherence of his most prudent Rules.

Pardon, Good Sir, If I speak more feelingly, where I am

too much concern'd: for not only this dayes Intentions, but the rest of my Misfortunes began in a Step-mother. My own Mother having departed this World not many yeares after she had brought into it my self and a Sister, my Father in a short space marryed a young Woman, of competent Beauty, and re∣ported for Vertuous, more then our Observation can make good; by whom he had divers Children. She being, as most of them are, very covetous, endeavoured what she could to advance their Estate above ours; and finding that taske some∣thing hard, unlesse she could remove us out of the way, she resolv'd to try what might be done as to that. She soon di∣spatch'd my Sister, partly with the abuses of evil Servants, which were so far acceptable to her as they were offensive to my Sister, and partly by framing malicious Representations of her to my Father: by which means she was often reprov'd for no other cause, but that my Mother-in-Law hop'd that it would help to break her heart. When she was gone, there was but one more to dispose of, and that was my self. Of this De∣sign she made small show by any of her actions which lay o∣pen to common Censure; her publick Carriage was as affecti∣onate as the naturall love of Mothers useth to put on, and something more, that the overplus of Appearance might shade the defect of Reality: and though she tryed by all means, which she thought available, to disaffect my Father towards me, yet her more publick speeches seem'd wholly to be directed to pro∣cure and maintain a very good opinion of me in his mind. But she had Servants tutor'd to make him believe that I was a scor∣ner of his Choice, and a hater of his Marriage: and they made me the Author of Reports against her, which he knew to be false, that he might believe every thing to be true which was said a∣gainst me. To be short, the disaffections which they had planted in him towards me, by their incessant improving them with fresh arguments of their reasonablenesse, grew to that height, that I was disinherited: which though it was most afflictive, arising from such groundless causes, and brought on by a most hatefull person; yet upon consideration of my Fa∣thers Innocence abus'd, and the relation by which I was taught indispensable Obedience, I made a shift to swallow it; and

having been for a good while accustom'd to such Diet, I be∣gan more easily to digest it. My Adversary enrag'd to see every envenom'd Dart cast in vain by the forementioned hands, re∣solv'd to take another course, fearing lest her Plot should be discovered, since it was so long before she could put it in act; and therefore, as I now perceive, to dispatch the businesse, she had by poysonous insinuations endeavour'd to make this In∣nocent Gentleman thirsty for my guiltless blood. They made a fine Tale indeed of my being his Rival in affections to a Lady with whom I never talk'd privately in my life; and indeed by reason of the discouragements which I apprehended from be∣ing disinherited, I abandon'd all thoughts of Love to her or any else. Misokalon, to procure this unhappy Meeting, invited me to a private Hunting in this place; and perceiving this Gentle∣man, whom they had abus'd, not come, in whose courage it seems they trusted more then their own, they pretended to go to a Gentlemans House to hasten his coming, and to fetch away the Doggs, desiring me to entertain my self in the Valley; where from some Stand which they had, they had no sooner espied me engag'd, but they came in with dishonorable assi∣stance, not to help this Gentleman, but to ruine me and satis∣fie my Wicked Mother. And was I, said the wofull Abulus, the only Instrument which this Devilish Woman could single out for her last act of Villany? All-knowing Power, which art Witnesse of my Innocence, take not Vengeance of my Ig∣norance, forgive my Rashnesse, and grant me with more sober Prudence to guide my future undertakings. And for the wrong which I have through indiscretion done to you, said he, turning his speech to the Gentleman, I offer besides the hear∣ty repentance of my Error, such other satisfaction as you shall require. Nothing else, replyed he, but that for the future you would continue to love one whom you would not have ha∣ted but for Misinformation. I do also beseech you, said he to Bentivolio, of whom I know nothing but Courage and Pity, to accompany me to the Town which is not far off, that you may be a means to procure me that Justice which I doubt not may be had easily through the assistance of your Testimo∣nies: both because my Father is of so good a Nature that he

loves Truth, and hath so much reason left as to understand it, when it is aptly revealed to him; and because the Judge who is lately sent hither is such a true lover of Justice, that he will spare no Offender for any Personall Considerations. His coming was occasion'd by the removall of his Predecessor, who was so over-aw'd by the Interest of a great Courtier, call'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that no Cause was ever heard till he knew his Opinion of it; or if it was, and the Evidence never so clear, yet they could get no Sentence against Forzario's friends: by which means poor men, crucified with Expectation, car'd not what became of their Causes, since they could bring them to no con∣clusion notwithstanding their most constant endeavours. But when his Patron Forzario was gone, the wrong'd people procu∣red a Punishment to be appointed for him with some resem∣blance of his Sin; for he was hung up alive with a line run through the Ankles of both his Feet, to be tormented between Life and Death, as others had been by his means between Hope and Doubt.

When they were come to the City, they went directly to the President, accompanied with multitudes of people, who were astonish'd at the lamentable sight of persons besprinkled with bloud, and the Fellow with his hands cut off. The President seeing Bentivolio with the rest, received him in most courteous manner, as well remembring what kind of Person he had dis∣covered himself in Erotocleus business: but he desiring the Pre∣sident to omit all Ceremonies concerning himself, pray'd him to take cognisance of an eminent piece of Wickednesse which would require a most severe Castigation. So having produced Abulus, who related all that he knew, and Doulogynes, who was willing to say any thing which might help to put him out of his pain, having accused Antimater for contriving the businesse, and hiring them to do it, she was forthwith sent for: the people being much startled, that one esteem'd very Vertuous should appear by her Actions so contrary to the general opinion.

Gynicaeus, the Gentlemans Father, who was present, was e∣qually troubled with the Perfidiousnesse of his Wife and the Innocence of his Son. Antimater vext with the ill successe of

her Design, which she now gave for lost, took a glasse of Poy∣son which she had kept as her last remedy, for her Son, if the plot fail'd and she not discovered, or for her self, if she should happen to be reveal'd. So doing Execution upon her self with this, she prevented the Judges Sentence. The Father was clear'd as to the murderous Plot, only rebuk'd for a doting Credulity, and ordered, for a prevention of such other mis∣chiefs as his Son had already suffered, to settle his Estate upon him, and to marry no more whil'st he lived. Bentivolio interceded for Abulus, because he was betrayed, whom the young Gentleman also freely forgave. Doulogynes was condemn'd to be put into a Sack with the companion of his treachery, and to be thrown down from the Tower of the City into a great Lake which was before it.

Bentivolio having seen a good conclusion of a troublesome businesse, and being now near the borders of Vanasembla, his desires to meet his Friends grew vigorous, much after the manner of Travailers, who mend their pace when they come within sight of their wish'd Home. But the Heat of the day having spent his spirits, he was compell'd by wearinesse to make a small stay upon the way; and spying a Rock out of whose side a Spring pour'd it self upon a broad Stone, which with a continued Stream it had hollowed into the form of an Artificiall Cistern, and kept it still full with liquid Crystall in stead of the stone which it had worn away; and seeing a Poplar which invited him with a delectable shade, he sate down: and as he was considering the beauty of his solitary Retirement, and giving thanks to the benigne Lord of the World, who had by his mercifull Wisdom made so many comfortable Receptacles for the weary, he was diverted by the sound of a Voice from the further side of the Rock, so form'd that it was a lively Expression of Sorrow and Anger. A Gentleman and his Wife, great sharers in those sufferings which very few could escape in that unjust Country, had by chance repos'd themselves in that place. The Gentlewoman deeply affected with their present Calamity, which was much en∣creas'd with a fresh remembrance of their former Happinesse, and looking upon the Impunity of their Oppressours as a great

scandall to the Divine Government, she transcended the common affectionatenesse of her Sex, and delivered the resentment of her own and others Afflictions in such un∣usuall Language, that it did sufficiently declare that she was transported with extraordinary Passion. Her Words were these:

O sluggish Earth! canst thou bear the Vnrighteous with so much Patience? Open thy mouth and swallow up the Wicked. O dull Sea! why dost thou not, as of old, break through thy Flood gates, and drown the Vngodly? Hide these sinners in your Ruins, ye mighty Hills. But these Rocks are deaf. Fall down from Heaven, thou Fire of God. Where are you, Hot Thunderbolts? You mortall Plagues, whereever you sleep, awake and seise upon Hypocrites not worthy to be spa∣red a minute longer. Rise up, you wildest of the Beasts, and make your prey of such as are more Beasts then any that range in Forrests. How slow they come? Alas! Alas! O Horrible and generall Revolt of the Ingratefull and Coward∣ly Creation, when none dare appear to revenge the wrong'd Creator! O foolish Sun! dost thou vouchsafe to shine, and warm such as sin in de∣fiance of Patience? O Moon, be thou turn'd into a Sea of Bloud, and then fall down upon the Incorrigible Earth. Ye fiery Stars, poure out your most destructive influences upon such as sollicite punishment with the last proofes of ex∣treme Disobedience. But sinners must be con∣firm'd by Impunity, when those which ought

to inflict Punishment have joyn'd in their lewd Conspiracy. O God! O God!

There she ceas'd, for her Husband interrupted her with a voice which was gentle in it self, and carried such words as one would never have expected for an answer to the forego∣ing Exclamations, which seem'd not only passionate, but just. He spoke thus:

Hold, hold, Nemesis. Let none be so angry in Gods behalf. It becoms him to be merciful, and also to endure the Vnthankfull. Must He strike just at those Minutes which Sinners point to with the follies of disobedience? Feeble Wo∣man, He can bear with Fooles more easily, it seems, then thou canst consider it. Those Vn∣righteous people, of whom thou dost complain, have abus'd Goodness: but that Goodnesse is not so impotent as to fly to immediate Revenge. He takes not the forfeitures of carelesse debtors, but will accept of payment, though it come after the day when it is first due. He will not ruine the Trespasser as soon as he hath given him Cause; no, though he have put Wilfulnesse into the of∣fence; if he break his heart with the considera∣tion of his Vnworthinesse, and seek Mercy with a chang'd soul. It becoms him to forgive, who hath commanded others to do so; and what He remits, who shall require? He knows when it is fit to punish the Impenitent; and if they sin lon∣ger, have they not suffered a great part of their Misery? He will 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this Wicked World: the

Prosperity of the Vngodly hath its Period. Be∣fore He end all things, He will overcome the Evill spirit which now reigns. All-powerfull Goodness and invincible Charity shall cast Force and Fraud into a bottomlesse pit: but because He hath not a mind to do these things presently, let us depart with silence.

Bentivolio discerning the Reasonablenesse of this Answer to have taken off all those Objections which disquieted his mind, when he considered the vile state of Argentora, dismiss'd his troublesome thoughts, and was now only sollicitous how he might sind the nearest way to the Metropolis of Vanasembla.