The Character of love guided by inclination, instanced in two true histories / translated out of French.

THE CHARACTER OF LOVE, Guided by INCLINATION.

AMan of Quality, not having Estate enough to support his Quality and Birth at the Court, was forced to retire into the Countrey; and espe∣cially because the Peace, which then reigned throughout all Europe, bereaved him of the hopes of those Employments,

which he might pretend to in a time of War: his Name was Polydamus. This made him choose to settle in one of the greatest Province-Cities of this King∣dom, where having married a Lady of Riches and Quality, whose Name was Olympia, he lived with a great deal of Consideration and Splendor.

Polydamus and Olympia having lived several years without having any Chil∣dren, were at length rewarded by Hea∣ven for this long and patient expectation, with a Son. To this Son they gave the Name of Alcander, who being born of a Family, wherein Wit and Vertue were as it were hereditary, and his Veins fil∣led with illustrious Blood, promised all that could be hoped for, from so happy a Birth. These Parents did not, as most Fathers and Mothers do, leave the Edu∣cation of their Children solely to the Conduct of Tutors and Governours, whose mercenary Souls make them very often little concern themselves with the Improvement of the Children they are intrusted with. Olympia, Mother to Al∣cander, hardly suffer'd him to go out of her sight; and Polydamus, his Father, who was as it were the Overseer of his

Education, had always an eye to the Con∣duct of those who governed him, to cor∣rect them when they committed any Er∣ror, and to encourage them when they shewed any remissness.

In the first years of his Infancy, Alcan∣der made the Tenderness of his Parents, and the Skill of his Masters become des∣perate. He had a Fieryness in his Mind, which nothing was able to stop: His Motions were so sudden and violent, that for a long time he was thought uncapa∣ble of Discipline. Whatever he had a mind to, he desired with an invincible Heat, and an unsupportable Obstinacy; yet this Mind which nothing could tame, had Intervals which discover'd in it a great and a charming Goodness. He made appear at several times in his Acti∣ons and Words an admirable Nature, a great generosity of Mind and Courage, a great deal of Reason, Equity, and a Love for all great things; but nothing was able to fix him, or make him tracta∣ble, either for the Exercises of the Mind or Body. This extream eagerness of Mind, and this Intractability, which was thought unconquerable, lasted till he was 15 years old: And it is here we are to

admire the power of Inclination, and the surprizing Effect it had upon Alcan∣der.

Lirana, who was a Friend and Neigh∣bour to Olympia, had a Daughter called Celintha, who often was in company with Alcander, she often coming to visit Olym∣pia. Celintha had a tolerable Beauty, an agreeableness and a sweetness in her Tem∣per, and a great stock of Goodness in her Heart, which was her principal Me∣rit: And as she was some years older than he was, she had over him some su∣periority of Reason, and a great Ascen∣dant. This Commerce which the con∣veniency of the Neighbourhood kept up, doubled it self by Pleasure and Custom, and this Custom insensibly became a Ne∣cessity to Alcander; he could now no more be satisfied without seeing Celin∣tha; his Mind, which nothing before could settle, now applies it self solely to Celintha; he neither lives, acts, nor sighs but for her: And that which is most wonderful, is, that Alcander who loved Beauty, and who suffer'd himself to be taken every time it presented it self be∣fore him, finds in Celintha an I know not what, which makes him forget all the

Beauties of the World; his desire of see∣ing her, became violent, hasty and rest∣less. Olympia who had always her eyes upon her Son, was the first that perceiv∣ed it; she soon found that this Passion for a young Gentlewoman, whose Wit or Beauty had nothing of extraordinary in them, and who had nothing in her which should cause any great Passions, could proceed from nothing, but that blind Inclination, and that invincible In∣stinct, which makes us sometimes love Persons, who have nothing that is amia∣ble in them in the eyes of others.

This sort of Passion which is so vio∣lent, even in those who are fortified with Reason and Experience, is much more so in the Minds of those who know nei∣ther Love nor Reason, and who give it more power by Ignorance, and the weakness of their Age. This had pro∣duced such great Effects upon Alcander, that to oppese such a dangerous begin∣ning, Olympia resolved to break the Commerce which he had with Celintha. She had at first allowed of her frequent Visits, because she was glad to see her Son was capable of fixing his Mind upon any thing; but seeing that this Engage∣ment

went too far, she thought it neces∣sary, without any delay, to hinder the Consequences. This Remedy was worse than the Disease; for if her Sons Thoughts were naturally too much di∣stracted by his too great vivacity of Mind, they were yet much more so by the heat of his Passion, and by the continual Di∣sturbances which the absence of Celintha caused in him. This impetuous Vivaci∣ty which appeared in all his Actions, yielding at last to a deadly Melancholy, he was soon seen to fall into a deep and lasting Thoughtfulness, which made O∣lympia very much apprehend the conse∣quence of so prodigious a Change. This fear caused her to take another method for his Cure: She had a Neece, whose Name was Parthenia, whom she tenderly loved, and she invited to accompany her, many young Ladies of her own Age and Quality, who helping to divert her, made use at the same time of their Wit and Beauty to amuse Alcander, and to di∣vert him from, or at least to weaken the Passion he had for Celintha. These La∣dies, who were but just out of their Childhood, had however heard the noise, which this new and so extraordinary a

Passion of Alcander for Celintha had made so that they conceived towards her a sort of Jealousie, or Envy, or Emula∣tion, which made them forget nothing of what their Age could furnish, of little Plays and Pastimes, to divert the sad Al∣cander, and to please him. Their Endea∣vours succeeded well at first; Alcander's Passion seemed to lye asleep sometimes, but also at other times, even in the midst of his Pleasures and Diversions, this Pas∣sion would a waken it self with so much force, that he often fell on a sudden into a dismal Melancholy. These little Ri∣vals of Celintha were offended at it; for there is a little jealous Pride incident to all Ages: They could not restrain them∣selves from letting it appear, and took at these Disturbances of Alcander such of∣fence, as usually wounds Beauties so cru∣elly, when they see themselves neglected; one discovers a great deal of Sharpness and Anger; another in a low Tone, but loud enough to be heard, terms the Passi∣on he has for Celintha, a ridiculous Whim∣fie. What mortal Wounds did not these Discourses make in the heart of the amo∣rous Alcander? What Efforts did not he make to restrain his Resentment and Im∣patience?

And to what a degree was his Pride, which was little less than his Love, humbled to see himself, for a Per∣son, of whom so little account was made, fo great a Slave to a Passion, which he was not able to overcome? Having at last master'd the Transports with which he was agitated, and being willing to speak to excuse himself, and justifie his Passion, all the Company left him upon a sudden, and leaves him in a strange Confusion. Parthenia, who was not lefs provoked than her Friends, by the pro∣cedure of Alcander, made him such Re∣proaches, as made him desperate. Ah my dearest Kinswoman, said he, with a Tone which was able to disarm the most just Resentment, If you knew the violence which I have done to my self, to bring me again to my self, and to render me some way acceptable to those lovely Persons, whose quar∣rel you so justly take up, you would have some pity on an unhappy man, whom you now think worthy of your Anger! You do not know the Torment I have suffer'd, in seeing my self forced to entertain Persons that are indifferent to me, and to make answer to them all, whilst I spoke at the bottom of my heart to none but the Person I love: What was I

able to do, or what was it in my power to say in a place where I saw no body, but a Person who was not there?

Polydamus, who was a severe, and an imperious Father, and who for a long time had been from his own house, upon affairs of great Importance, heard at his Return with great Affliction, the head∣strong-passion his Son had for Celintha; and he having hoped to find in Alcander wherewith to re-establish his Family, and to call back Fortune, which had almost abandon'd it, seeing nothing in Celintha's Fortune, which was not much below his Ambition, and the Projects of Preferment, which he had formed for his Son, was re∣folved to remove him to a greater distance from Celintha, and to carry him to an E∣state he had in an another Country. He forms his Design with Precipitation, not so much as consulting even with Olympia; he gives his Orders, and the Execution of them is so quick, that Alcander has not time to take leave of Celintha. So soon as Polydamus was arrived at his Country-house, not being ignorant of his Son's Grief, nor wanting natural Affe∣ction, he endeavours to divert him with all that a fine House can have of Diver∣sions

and Pleasures. He now expects from him but a sleight Application to his Study and Exercises, and dispenses with those rigorous Duties to which his seve∣rity was accustomed indispensably to oblige him. But all that Polydamus can do for his Son cannot comfort him for the Absence of Celintha; all the Pleasure he finds in the Liberty allowed to him by his Father, is sometimes to steal from those which accompany him, and to go into some retired private place to enjoy this Grief, and taste the only Pleasure left to the unfortunate, that is, to shed Tears with freedom; which cruel Decency forces them sometimes to refrain. The Image of Celintha took him up so much, that being come to the Bank of a little Brook, which divided the Lands belong∣ing to Polydamus from those of one of his Neighbours; and seeing a young Lady who came upon the Bank on the other side of the River, he thought he saw Celintha, and without hesitating, threw himself into a little Boat which was there, and came near her before she could perceive him; Is it you (cryed he) my dearest Celintha? Is it you (answered she) Lisidor? So after

having looked upon each other with some Disorder and Shame, for having been mistaken, they asked each other Pardon for the Error they both had fallen into: It is then (said Alcander) the charming Philismena which I see. It is then (re∣plied she at the same instant) the Illustri∣ous Alcander which I see. I know (said she) by common report the severity of your Parents, and the Reasons which have forced you to remove so far from your usual abode; whatever coldness there may be between our Families, the advantageous things which have been told me of you, do make me interest my self in all that concerns you; and if I did not owe my self some Thoughts of Pity for Misfortunes, which are very like to yours, you should have all my Tears, and all my Compassion. Alas! (replied Alcander) Is there in the World then another Example of a Misfortune like mine? My Misfortune is the more to be pitied, because there are few who pity me. I love Celintha, but her merit being not sufficiently known to others, People cannot believe nor conceive the greatness of my Suffering, because they can∣not be perswaded of the Violence of my Pas∣sion. I love Lisidor, (replied Philismena) he is of a noble Extraction, but low in the

World, and of small Fortune. My Parents who have Eyes only for Riches, see nothing of Lovely in his Person; and I am moved by another sort of merit; I find in Lisidor all that can give birth to a true esteem, and to the greatest Passions. But since I have said too much in saying I love Lisidor, I may venture to trust you with the knowledge of all my adventures, and by this Relation give some ease to the cruel Torments which oppress me.

My Mother, who, notwithstanding all the tenderness she has for me, who am her only Daughter, and one of the richest Heiresses in the Province, breeds me up with a strictness which is almost without Example, and en∣deavours to breed in me a horrible aversion for all that can be called Love and Gallan∣try. She keeps me, as much as possible, from any Conversation with Men, and makes me live solitary in the middle of a great Town; and she, fearing some Engagement, which might hinder her disposing of me as she would, and seeing some sparks of Goodness and Complaisance in me, uses all her endeavours to inspire me with contrary Sentiments; all her Lessons tend to give me a savage, and an ungentile Vertue, and to possess my mind with more Severeness than Civility.

What my Mother does out of the motives of Pride and Ambition, my Father does out of Policy and Covetousness. He would chuse a Son-in-law as rich as himself, and allowing nothing to be good, but the Goods of Fortune; he accounts the most glorious merit ridiculous without them.

Lisidor, whose unfortunate merit is one of the most just Reproaches which may be cast upon Fortune, and one of the greatest Instances of her Injustice grew up; and because the little Estate he had, he held from my Father, he behaved him∣self to him, as a Tenant ought to do to his Lord: the small Proportion which there was between his Family and mine, gave him a very easie access to us both in the Town, and in the Country. This young Gentleman possest every thing which could make him to be beloved; and this respectful Familiarity, which he had con∣tracted in our Family, gave no Suspicion to my Relations; yet as accustomed as he was to see me, I began to observe, that he never approached me without some disorder in his Countenance, which I could not guess the cause of. When he lift up his Eyes, and cast them towards me, his looks which were always full of

life, shewed a timorousness which was not usual in him, and mixed with a passionate Languishing. I felt at the sight of him Emotions which I did not in the least understand; my great youth, and my small Experience, the horrible Aver∣sion which had been instilled into me for all that could be called Love, and above all that extream distance, which Fortune had set between us, made me not suspect the least, either on Lisidor's part, or on that of my own Heart. I had, notwith∣standing, an impatient Curiosity to know from whence proceeded these secret mo∣tions, which did thus disturb my quiet, When it happened that my Mother lea∣ving me with persons she had not the least suspicion of the Conversation con∣cerned any thing of Love; if I asked any innocent Questions upon that Sub∣ject, Lisidor would speak of it with a great deal of Wit, and good Breeding; so that I came to feel a great Disposition in my self to believe what he said; but he nor I daring, for many Reasons, to dive into the bottom of these Mysteries, I address'd my self to a young Gentle∣woman, who was placed to wait upon me by my Mother, and in whom I had

most confidence; but before I explained my self, I used all the caution I could to be assured of her Silence and Fidelity. So soon as I had discover'd to her what pass'd between Lisidor and my self, her Surprize seemed so great to me, that I repented her having learnt my Secret. I perceived her on a sudden to lose that submissive and complaisant Behaviour, which she always used to shew me, and to take up a scrupulous Severity, which my Mother endeavoured to inspire in all Persons who approached me. She made me so ashamed of my Weakness, and think all that I felt for Lisidor, to be so great a Crime, that I promised her to rob my self for ever of the sight of so amiable and dangerous a Person: My re∣solution seemed to her to be too violent. Have a care, Madam, replied Madonte to me, (this was the Name of my Confi∣dent, or rather my Rival, as I soon af∣terwards discover'd) avoid carefully the coming to Extremities, which will make too great a noise: What Reasons could you give your Mother, for a Behaviour which will ap∣pear to her so new and phantastical? and what would become of the unfortunate, and, it may be innocent Lisidor? What a judg∣ment

would be made of so surprizing and sudden a Disgrace to him? Lisidor may have Troubles, or some secret and unfortu∣nate Passion, which causes in him this Disor∣der and Melancholy, which you have hither∣to interpreted wrong: every thing is natural∣ly passionate in Lisidor, his Air, his Looks, his Discourse, nay even his Silence it self; shew therefore to him the same Favour you are used to do, and do nothing which may be below that noble Pride, which becomes Per∣sons of your Quality so well. No, I will never, replied Philismena, put any more in danger so tender a Reputation as mine is; the Trouble and Surprize you shewed to me, in learning the Thoughts I had for Lisidor, have too fully convinced me what danger there is in seeing him; I will never see him more: It is your part who are his Friend, to dispose him to this absenting of himself, nay, I ex∣pect also that you should break off all manner of Correspondence with him; the Place you have about me, and the Kindness I have for you, would give me in the judgment of all the World, too great ashare in all the Familiari∣ties you may have with him. Oh Madam, cried out Madonte, trembling all over, and with a tone of Despair in her Voice, If you banish Lisidor, I am undone; for it is

now past disguising to you my thoughts, since I find by yours you have a Courage which is above all your Weakness, and that in the fa∣vourable thoughts you have for Lisidor, there is nothing strong enough to oppose the Kindness I have for him. You love then, Lisidor, said I, with a soft Air mixt with sorrow and trouble: Since you assure me then, that what I feel for him, which I was loth at first to believe, may have such dangerous Consequences, do me the justice to think, that I am Mistress enough of my self, to stop the progress of a Passion in its birth. Love still Lisidor, but be sure you do not dis∣cover to him my Secret; and since he loves you without doubt as much as you love him, the least suspicion which he might take of what I feel upon his account, would put him into Trouble; therefore you may well think that your Silence is of importance, as well for my Reputation, as his Quiet. I will not tell you, Alcander, the cruel Reflections which possest my mind when I was alone, and with how many strange motions my heart was over∣whelmed; I shall only tell you, that so soon as I knew that what I felt for Lisidor, was from Love, neither the fear of my Relations, nor the pride of my Quality and Fortune, could ever have the power to make me condemn the

Inclination which I had for him: But I still was fully satisfied of his Merit, notwith∣standing the smalness of his Fortune; whe∣ther by reason of the pleasure which one finds when one begins to love, made me believe, that the Aversion which they had perswaded me to have for Love, was but the false ad∣vi••e of an affected Severity, which Avarice and Ambition had inspired my Parents with, or that at last the violence of the Inclination I had for Lisidor, made me forget what I owed in duty to them and my self. That which at last fully convinced me that I was in Love, and that it had crept farther than I thought into my heart, was, That I felt se∣veral secret and new motions in it, which raised themselves on a sudden. I began equally to fear and wish for the presence of Lisidor, to distrust Madonte, and to feel for her such a coldness, as at last proceed∣ed to absolute Hatred: Jealousie, Spite, Indignation, and the fear of seeing, pre∣ferr'd before me a Rival, who was so very much beneath me, caused such vio∣lent Troubles within me, that I found it a very hard task to dissemble them. Ma∣donte had Wit, Beauty, Courage, and Birth, and she being almost always with me, I feared that the disorder which I

discover'd in Lisidor, and which I inter∣preted in favour to my self, might rather be an effect of the presence of Madonte, than mine. I particularly wished for an opportunity to clear this doubt: but how was it possible for me to deceive the ma∣ny eyes which watched me, so as to have a private Conversation with Lisidor? Waiting for some favourable opportuni∣ty, which I hoped for rather from Chance, than my Skill, one day as I pass'd very near to him, I told him softly, Your Secret is known. At this word a strange and violent disorder appeared upon his Face, which pierced even into my Soul. I thought at first that Lisidor had believed that what I had then said to him, was a Reproach I made to him for his Rash∣ness, and that his Respect would make his condemned Passion either die, or be silent for ever; or it may be, said I within my self, Lisidor thinking I have discover'd his secret Intrigues with Ma∣donte, is troubled to see himself convicted of Infidelity towards her, in daring to love me; or of a more criminal Treache∣ry towards me, in pretending a Love which he did not feel. These melancho∣lick thoughts increased the desire I had

to talk with Lisidor, and to clear this Point with him: Fortune soon after hap∣pily furnished me with an opportunity; for walking in one of the long Walks in the Park with my Mother, who was led by Lisidor, she was forced to leave us on a sudden, being called away by my Father, who was in an Arbor at some distance from us, he having some secret News of great importance, which he had just then received, to impart to my Mother in pri∣vate.

So soon as I saw my self in full liberty to make Lisidor explain himself to me, and I explain my self to him, I was seiz∣ed with an extraordinary joy, accompa∣nied with those fears, to which the mo∣desty of our Sex, and the strictness of my Parents had accustomed me. I found Lisidor in the same disorder; Oh! that I could but tell you what we told each other before we spoke, by our Looks and by our Silence, it being my part to speak first, without standing upon any Puncti∣lio, nor to lose an opportunity wished for with so much passion. Well, Lisi∣dor, said I, tell me if it be Madonte that you love; and what is it you would have me believe, from that disorder which you so

often shew before us, from those unsetled Looks and those Transports, which seem to escape from you against your will? Ah, Madam, cried Lisidor, to what a dangerous tryal do you expose the Re∣spect which I owe to you? the Disorder wherein you have seen me, and which I have so often blamed my self for, as too visible a sign of an unpardonable rashness, has spoken but too plainly: Do you de∣sire it should finish my Destruction by a fuller Explanation, and that I thereby attract your greatest Indignation? No, no, Lisidor, answered I quickly, you must speak, and not loose in useless Talk these precious Minutes which Fortune has lent us; and such as, it may be, will never return again: I know but too well what Decorum and Behaviour that unfortunate Inequality which Heaven has put be∣tween us, requires from us both, speak without a Moments Hesitation, and at least spare me the Confusion of ex∣plaining my self first. Well, Madam, replied Lisidor, since you will have it, and since you force me to it, I will confess to you, that I have a great Esteem for Ma∣donte, and that I bear towards her that just acknowledgment which is due from

me to her for all her Favours, which she has shewed towards me; but I must, Madam, at the same time also tell you, That that invincible Inclination which carries us away against our Wills; that that infinite Esteem which extraordinary Vertue wrests from the most obdurate Heart, that the deep Impressions which great Beauty does make upon tender and sensible Hearts; I say, I declare to you, Madam, that I feel all these, and that I feel them only for you: and as for me (said I) the Account which I can give you of what passes in my Heart, is, That by the Motions and Lights, which proceed from Heaven and you, I find it very much changed, I learn in one Moment what I was so long ignorant of; I find that now pleasing to me, which before raised Hor∣ror in me; you have made such charm∣ing Truths, or such pleasant Errors, suc∣ceed all those Maxims which I had been formerly taught, that I am not sorry I wander a little in following them. At these words Lisidor, transported with Love and Joy, throws himself at my Feet, not reflecting that our Conversa∣tion had insensibly brought us near to the Arbour where my Mother was, who

coming out upon a sudden, before Lisi∣dor could rise from his Knees, she seemed extreamly surprised. Lisidor, who saw his Imprudence, and my Mother's Disor∣der, immediately thought of repairing his Fault by a happy Invention which his Wit furnished him with upon a sud∣den, he runs to my Mother; Ah, Madam, saies he, you just now saw an unfortu∣nate Lover prostrate at the Feet of my Lady your Daughter, to beg her leave to love Madonte: This word of loving ap∣peared so strange and new to her nice Temper, that she looked upon my Pray∣er as an unpardonable Rashness. My Daughter has reason, answered my Mo∣ther with an angry look, you ought not to approach her Ears with Terms which are offensive to her, and to keep for all that are near her, the same Respect which you have for her; it is only to me that you are to address your self; you had no need of gaining my Daughter's Approbation, much less her Assistance. Whilst my Mother was speaking, Ma∣donte, who came from walking in ano∣ther Walk, being come to us, Madonte, said my Mother, the Thoughts which Lisidor has for you, are come to my

Knowledge; I do not at all condemn his Passion, the Match is advantageous; you may make him a Return, and leave the Success to me; but I do not intend that the Hopes which I give you, shall authorize a Commerce which displeases me, and a Custom which I have always condemned; I will not suffer Lisidor's Passion to shew so near my Daughter all that those sorts of Passions have of the extravagant and ridiculous; that impor∣tunate Officiousness, that officious Care, and that shameful Weakness; the Exam∣ple of all which might poison the wise and noble Education, which I have given her. I will obey you, Madam, answers Madonte, in this Affair, as I have done in all others. I have observed in Lisidor indeed some Complaisance, which seems to distinguish me from the rest of my Companions; but I did not imagine that this preference went so far as Love, much less did I think that it would come to your Knowledge. I will make no step, Madam, nor indulge my Desire, but according to your Orders. I will be sure continually to avoid any Commerce which you do not like, and which may make me offend in the respect due to so

nice and scrupulous a Vertue, as that of my Lady your Daughter.

Judge then what a Joy I felt to see my self thus delivered from the Reproa∣ches of so severe a Mother, by Lisidor's ready Wit. But though it was easie for us to deceive her, how could we be able to deceive Madonte?

Lisidor disguised and constrained him∣self to little purpose, and I to as little, shewed a Coldness towards him; a clear∣sighted jealous Rival, and present at all our Conversation, penetrated through all the Mysteries of our Reservedness, and our Silence. All our Artifices could not rescue us from her Distrust; her restless and impatient Jealousy, resolves to assure to her self the Conquest of Lisidor; but not daring to explain her self, either out of Modesty or Pride, she causes it to be demanded of my Mother by secret and by-ways, but such as were effectual and cunning ones. My Mother speaks of it to Lisidor, and rallies him for his small Impatience. Lisidor seeks all Delays by some false Pretences, or feigned Reasons. All his Inventions were also sounded and discover'd. There was at this time a very hot Report of a War begun between

Sweden and Poland. Lisidor, who sought only an opportunity of signalizing him∣self, and who having had the boldness to love Philismene, thought himself obli∣ged to do actions which might answer so high, and so ambitious a Passion, and not meeting with any opportunity for it in his own Country, which then enjoy∣ed a profound Peace, was extreamly de∣lighted to find one in a foreign King∣dom; being the Son of a Father who had served and commanded in the victo∣rious Army of the great Gustavus, and who died in his Service, he hoped the Memory of his Name might procure from the King who had succeeded him, the same kind Reception which his Fa∣ther had found, and as good Employ∣ments. He prepares for this Voyage, provides an honourable Equipage, and places all his Hopes in the Fortune of his Arms. He proposes his Design to my Mother, who approves of it, not think∣ing of Madonte's Concern. Madonte hears this News with a deadly Grief; she at∣tempts to make Lisidor change his Reso∣lution. Lisidor defends himself with a thousand Reasons grounded upon Ho∣nour, Decency, and Fortune. And as

he was obliged to manage her for my sake, he flatters her with the Hopes of a quick Return. All that he had said to my Mother, and to Madonte, and which they both told me again, had almost made me think his Departure absolutely necessary; but there were other Reasons besides for it, which were in Relation to my self alone. It not being possible for us to hope for any private Interview, he writes to me, without knowing how, or by what means to convey the Letter to me, amongst so many jealous Persons, who besieged me continually.

One day being come into my Cham∣ber, with a Design of giving me his Let∣ter, and having let me see cunningly, that he had it in his Hand, there came into my Head this Trick, which I per∣formed without Delay. I arose from my seat, and pretending to go to speak to my Mother, I ran hastily, and passing near Lisidor, I pretended to stumble, and leaning my Hand upon his to recover my self, I took the Letter; the Contents of which were these, as near as I can re∣member.

What will you say, Madam, of the Re∣solution which I have taken concerning my

self? I have formed a Design to leave you, and it may be for ever. But ought I to have consulted you, when I had taken it, or to expect your Orders, when it so greatly con∣cerned your Honour and my own? I expose my self to all manner of Grief, by parting from you. But can I be able continually to present to your Eyes an unfortunate Per∣son, who is honoured with your Esteem, and who has hitherto done nothing to deserve it? I go to seek an Opportunity of doing honou∣rable Actions, thereby to justifie your choice. For, not daring to ask Fortune to equal you with me, I dare promise my self from my Courage, I shall force her, either to destroy me, or to make my Destiny such as may bet∣ter enable me to approach you. Do not, however think, Madam, that amongst such ambitious Thoughts, I should be so unjust as to desire you should oppose the Pleasure of your Parents; for if they offer you any good Match, you ought to follow your Destiny, and not let your self be overcome by the Inclination of your Heart. I can never lose you, without dying my self; but I shall die without complaining, if you live but as happy as you deserve.

Ah Madam, cried Alcander, what Love and Courage do these thoughts dis∣cover to be in Lisidor's Soul! Heaven has made you for each other, it cannot fail accomplishing that which it promises you, by the union of Hearts which it has so well formed between you both. I can∣not tell, replied Philismena, what Heaven has determined for us, but I know that the loss of Lisidor would be unsupporta∣ble to me. I feel it by the grief which his departure has caused in me, by that which I suffer because of his absence, and above all by a silence of two years, which he keeps out of respect, and for the danger would be run by us both, in the convey∣ing his Letters to me. I will tell you only—

As she was going on in her Discourse, she heard a noise, and fearing to be sur∣prized with Alcander, she rose up, took her leave of him, and desired him to re∣pass immediately the River. Alcander obeyed, and in parting they promised to meet each other again so soon as they could possibly. They saw each other of∣ten, and these Conversations contracted between them the bands of a strict Friendship; there it was they offer'd

each other all the Helps which lay in their power, to assist one another in their Amours. Alcander engaged Philismena to see Celintha often, and to use her Inte∣rest on his behalf. Philismena also obli∣ged Alcander to promise to write to Lisi∣dor, and to keep a continual Correspon∣dence by Letter, so that she might be in∣formed both of his Fortune and his Love.

Polydamus was at last informed of these secret Meetings, which he heard with great joy, in the hopes he had that they might work a change in Alcander, and that this Complaisance he shewed to Phi∣lismena, might be an effect of some Passi∣on which they had for each other. In order to the advancing of which, he used all means to reconcile himself with the Father of Philismena, and made several Advances, beyond what he ought to have done. The Father of Philismena being struck with the noise which Alcander's Merit made in the World, and yet more pleased with the great Estate he was in prospect of, and which would one day make him one of the greatest Matches in the Kingdom, answers the Intentions of Polydamus. The ill Weather having for∣ced

them to leave the Countrey, and to come back into the Town, the Commerce between Alcander and Philismena is re∣newed, with the good liking of all their Relations, who did not know that they were less Lovers than Confidents to each other. These things went so far, that Polydamus made Propositions of Marriage. The Father of Philismena hearkened to them; but as Persons of his Character, I mean covetous Fathers, never quit any part of their Estates but as late as they can, to their Daughters, and that besides, he was desirous Time should give him a nearer prospect of what he expected from the Merit of Alcander, and the Hopes which were given him of his Fortune, which he saw but afar off, he accepted of the Match, but upon this condition, that it should be deferr'd for some years. Po∣lydamus desired no better, not desiring his Son, who was then just entred into the World, and had not yet finished his Exercises, should then marry a Lady as young as himself. But this Alliance be∣ing so earnestly wisht for on both sides, their Parents would oblige them to an engagement of their Word and Honour, which might secure the success of it. Al∣cander

and Philismena coming to know the Intentions of their Parents with an extream grief, before they had it from their own mouths, they consulted toge∣ther what Answer they were to give. Their first Discourse, upon so important a Matter and so tender, had a great deal of disorder in it, for they knew not what to say to each other. They esteem'd each other infinitely, but they loved else∣where. Their consent is required; they answer only with silence, which proceed∣ed not less from their Astonishment than their Respect. They reproached one ano∣other afterwards with a Consent, which appeared so quiet and so voluntary: Will you, says Philismena, will you abandon your dear Celintha? No, Madam, an∣swer'd Alcander, I wish I were able to do it; but it is impossible for me, and yet can I refuse the charming Philismena, whose Merit and Fortune might bound the most ambitious Desires? Will you, replied Philismena, have a young Wo∣man revolt against her Parents? What help can I afford to my Weakness? What pretence can I have for my Disobedience? I who have no other Reason, but that of a Passion, which must be hidden, and

which cannot appear? All the World knows that you love Celintha. Have you not in a Passion which you cannot conquer, a Reason which will surely prevail with your Father, and which no reasonable Person can condemn? This very Rea∣son, replied Alcander, is it not much stronger on your side? Cannot you with∣out Reproach and without Injustice, re∣fuse a Man whose Heart is in the Breast of another? Well then, Alcander, said she, I will have the Weakness, since you will have it so, to yield to your Reasons; but I shall never have the power of resist∣ing my Parents. I see then very well Madam, replied Alcander, that I must take upon my self all the trouble and shame of the refusal. I shall expose my self to my Father's Passion, and the Blame and Reproaches of all the World; but it will be less for the sake of satisfying the Love which I have for Celintha, who loves me not, than it is to serve the In∣clination which you have for Lisidor, who loves you entirely. Oh what shall I not owe you for this Favour, dear Alcander! I shall be forced to love you almost as well as Lisidor. So soon as Alcander had left Philismena, he ran home to speak to his

Father, who was in his own Apartment: He presented himself before him in a dis∣order, which made him tremble, threw himself at his feet, and bedew'd them with his tears: I know Father, said he, that never Son was so obliged to a Fa∣ther as I am to you; for besides an ad∣vantagious Post I have in the World by the honour of my Birth, there is some∣thing yet more precious which I hold by your Lessons and Example; yet not with∣standing I depend upon a Power which is above yours, and which having dispo∣sed of me to Celintha, will not suffer me to yield my self up elsewhere. I see that your Eyes sparkle with Anger at this Dis∣course, but I beg you will hearken to me without being angry: You are Ma∣ster of my Life, you ought to be so of my Heart; you offer me in the Person of Phi∣lismena an advantagious Match, and a most accomplisht Person. I know what your thoughts must be of a Son, that rebels against the will of such a Father as you are; but I defy all your Severity to in∣flict so cruel a punishment upon me, as that which I suffer by the fatal necessity which I see my self in of refusing Philis∣mena, and of displeasing you. There∣fore

I do not come to implore your pity, but rather to provoke your anger against an unfortunate Person, whose Life is hateful to him: I refuse an accomplisht Beauty, who, it may be, one day may love me, and adore an ordinary Beauty, who, I am satisfied, will never love me. Alcander spoke those last words in so sad a Tone, that his Father was shaken by them notwithstanding his Severity; but the shame he had of his Weakness made him take a more violent Resolution: Go, said he, Son, unworthy of me, go out of my presence, and never offer any more to my fight a Wretch, who has not power to overcome a Passion which dishonours him. Polydamus's Passion had gone fur∣ther, if it had not been restrained by the Tears of Olympia his Wife, who made him fear that Alcander's Despair might make him relapse into the extream dan∣ger of a Sickness, which he had been so difficultly cured of. He thought also that he ought not to make a noise of this refusal of his Son, that he might still have the liberty of seeing Philismena, and that by this Commerce he might be able to manage an Affair, which he wished for with so much eagerness. But the Ladies

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Father seeing the pursuit which Polyda∣mus made for his Daughters Marriage, grow cold, was glad to have this pre∣tence, to release himself of an Engage∣ment, which gave bounds to his Ava∣rice; and the Mother was not sorry to have, by this means, some of the Visits, which Alcander made to her Daughter, retrenched, to satisfie her natural Seve∣rity, and her Ambition, who desiring to have full liberty to dispose of her Daugh∣ter to such Matches as should offer, was afraid Philismena should enter into any Engagement, by reason of these continu∣al Visits of Alcander, whose Merit was to be feared.

Polydamus being forced to leave his Family for some private Affairs, or for those of the Province, with which the King had intrusted him, left the whole management of his Sons Education to his Wife. Olympia, who was the best Mo∣ther that ever was, and who sought con∣tinually all the Inventions which natural Affection and her wise Goodness could furnish her with, to accomplish the Edu∣cation of her Son, whose Passion had put it into so great disorder, sends for Celin∣tha, thinking that for the design she had,

it was necessary to make use of her her self; and to dispose her to what she de∣sired, she thus discoursed to her: You know, Celintha, what a constant Friend∣ship there has always been between our two Families, the Neighbourhood, and a great resemblance of Birth and Fortune, has made these Tyes, and may make us one day incline to a Marriage between you and my Son. I know that Dorilas makes Court to you, and that his Rela∣tions may have the same thoughts for him; but that prospect being yet so far distant, and that Time, and above all, Heaven disposes of us, and that besides Dorilas his Fortune is yet very uncertain, and lyable to very dangerous Chances, you may have, it may be, some interest in managing that violent Inclination which my Son shews he has for you, this Passion of his being very unseasonable in respect of his age, which ought to be em∣ployed in cultivating his mind. You see that it is highly necessary to put some stop to the progress of an affection which is already become too strong, and which may make him unworthy of your esteem, and of the hopes of possessing you: my instructions, and all the care of his Go∣vernor

have not had power to remove this disturbance of his mind, it is you Celin∣tha who are of an age a little above his, and who have a judgment above your age; it is you that must bring him back into the right way. As for me Madam, answer'd Celintha, I long to second your intentions, but tell me by what Art we may obtain that which I wish with as much earnestness as you: you must, re∣plied Olimpia, make use of all the power you have over my Son, you are much dearer to him than a Mother, and the de∣fire of pleasing you will do more than the obedience which he owes me; make him understand you can never be able to like Lover who has no other qualification but his Love, and that if he will be belov'd, he must use all his endeavours to content his Parents and his Tutor, by a continu∣al application to his Duty and his Exerci∣ses. Celintha, whose thoughts were bent towards Dorilas, whom she passio∣nately loved, was much troubled to know how to behave her self as she ought to∣wards Alcander; but Goodness being her predominant Quality, she yields to the Prayers of Olympia, dissembles the Love she has for Dorilas, and hearkens with a

prudent complaisance to the Sighs of Al∣cander, with the design of governing him according to the Intentions of his Mo∣ther. Although she had not judgment or experience enough to act alone in so nice an Affair, she had nevertheless sufficient to profit by the Instructions which were given her; and if she reduced the Mind of Alcander, and so suddenly made him change his Behaviour, it was less by her skill, than by the ascendant which the Inclination Alcander had for her, did give her over him. The earnest desire of pleasing Celintha, made him make a wonderful progress in all Learning, and the ambition of making himself more a∣miable, raised in him that of distinguish∣ing himself from his Equals. The Aca∣demy where he went to learn his Exer∣cises, sounded of nothing but the Name of Alcander, who by a constant and am∣bitious Emulation endeavoured to out-do all his Companions. If he disputed any Prizes in running of the Ring, or any other Exercises, he was so accustomed to overcome, that he could not endure to be vanquished; he would be so much troubled when he was, that he always shed tears; What will Celintha say, said

he, with a passionate and sorrowful Voice! and he hardly dared to come near her, or to shew himself in the day of his Defeat. Olympia, who made advantage of every thing to the Education of her Son, seeing him so concerned with the fear of displeasing his Mistress, never failed, when-ever he neglected his duty in any thing, to make him sensible of the trouble it would be to Celintha, if she thought him capable of committing such faults; Alcander alarm'd with such threats would throw himself at his Mothers feet, and beg her to spare him the reproaches of Celintha, and with sincere tears of re∣pentance would give her an infallible as∣surance that he would repair his fault. The desire he had to gain Celintha's whole Esteem went so far, and tyed him with so much assiduity to all his Ex∣ercises, that his Mother trembled for fear of his Health, and began to frighten her self extreamly with the Examples we have of the prejudice, which Youths every day receive by an intemperance of Study, and excess of Application. It was then that Olympia, instead of awa∣kening the diligence of her Son, desired his Masters to retrench part of the time

allotted for his Studies and Exercises, and to allow it him for his Diversions. And then she allowed him full liberty to visit Celintha; and seeing with what as∣siduity he waited upon her, with what eagerness he devoured her with his Eyes, and with what earnestness he did her a thousand Services, she asked him very often the cause of so extraordinary an Attendance. Alcander, who answered so well to all Questions which were asked him, and who always gave Reasons for all his Actions, answered thus, I feel, without taking time to examine himself, I feel, at the sight of Celintha —

At these words interrupting himself, he shewed in his Eyes and his whole Countenance, with what labour and di∣sturbance of Mind he sought for what he had to say, I feel, said he again, so strange a pain, that I am ashamed of the condition wherein I am, and I am not less so to tell you of it, and yet I find in this pain a certain pleasure which surpas∣ses all others, but a pleasure which I can∣not express, and the loss of which would be intolerable for me to bear. How shall I blame my self enough, said he, that I cannot satisfie your Curiosity, and that I

have so little wit, as not to be able to comprehend the Charm which chains me to Celintha, and which affords me the greatest of all pleasures, or to speak more properly, the only pleasure which I love, or the only one I ever can love. Do not blush, said Olympia, at an Ignorance which is common to you with the most learned Men of the World. What, con∣tinued he, with an angry and sorrowful voice, I am now almost 16 years old, and am I not able to tell what passes in my heart? I am resolved to study my self so well—Ah Son, replied Olympia, interrupting him, it is no matter whe∣ther you know how to express this In∣clination for Celintha, but it is of conse∣quence to overcome it! Do you wish so much hurt, replied Alcander, to that Pas∣sion which has raised me above my self, and which has made me overcome that stubbornness of mind, which troubled you so much before, and made me so ashamed. Do not deceive your self, an∣swered Olympia, this sort of passion will correct some faults, and corrupt a thou∣sand Vertues, nothing is secure against its violence; Honour and Duty, every thing is in danger, when Reason is not

Mistress. Fear not Madam, said Alcan∣der, all that I feel for Celintha, can never make me forfeit my Reason, all the de∣sire I have in the World being solely to see her, and to please her. Has this de∣fire of mine any thing in it, with which the most scrupulous Vertue can be offend∣ed? Do but leave me to this innocent Passion, and I quit every thing else to you; I will then sacrifice to you all my actions, all the desires of my heart, and every moment of my Life. Olympia be∣ing softned with these his tears, Love on, says she, love Celintha, and do not make me repent the tenderness I have for you. Alcander satisfied with this permission of loving Celintha, let himself loose to his Passion, and studying at the hours left him for Recreation, the ways how to shew it, it hapned that one day a Bro∣ther of Olympia's coming from his Coun∣trey-house, and relating to his Sister the beauty and the abundance of Flowers and Fruit he had seen there, made a thought come into his head, which he was resolv∣ed to execute immediately. The impe∣tuousness of his temper not allowing him to make any reflection, he steals away suddenly from his Mother and his Go∣vernour,

takes with him two of the Ser∣vants of the House that were readiest to obey him, orders Horses to be made rea∣dy for him to go to his Uncles House, which was about half a Leagues distance from the Town: But his impatience would not suffer him to stay while they were ready; he goes therefore on Foot at mid-day, in the hot season of the scorching Dog-days; he passes through a Field, where he saw Sweat running down in great drops upon the Faces of those that were at Harvest; he runs with∣out slackening his pace, breathing no∣thing but Disorder. No sooner was he arrived, but without allowing himself the time to rest, he goes into a great Flower-garden, which was as large as the front of the Castle; he runs it over from one end to the other, he makes his eyes ramble over it. All this vast Par∣terre, filled with an infinite number of Flowers, could hardly satisfie his desire; and although the multitude of them did rob him of the power of choosing, yet he still wish'd that Nature would make new ones to grow for his sake. At length he commands his Servants to gather the fi∣nest and most curious of them, he him∣self

shewing them an Example: From thence he goes to the Walls, and visits all the Fruit-trees; if the fairest Fruit be upon the highest Trees or Branches, he either bows them down or breaks them, that he may gather the Fruit with his own hand. After having robbed some of the Trees of what was best upon them, being tired with his Walk, and weary with the pains he had taken, he rests himself under the shade of a Tree, but less in order to defend himself from the heat of the Sun, than to shade the Flow∣ers and Fruit, which being separated from their Stalks and Branches, would have lost a great deal of their freshness, had they been exposed to the Sun at Noon; and not to be idle whilst he re∣posed himself, picks out the Flowers which seemed finest to him, he makes se∣veral Nosegays of them, and comparing them together, he chooses those with the most suiting and agreeable sortings, to present to Celintha.

Whilst he walks about, and prepares his Present, a company of young Ladies, who were come the day before under the conduct of their Mothers to this fine House to divert themselves, and who

were not less jealous of Celintha, than those whom Olympia had gotten to bear Alcander company, in order to cure his Passion, and who were passing their time in little Sports, in a Walk which was co∣vered from the rays of the Sun. One of the Company having spyed Alcander through a pallisade of Jessamine, told it to her Companions, who all run toge∣ther through the Walk to surprize him: He was so attentive upon what he was about, that they continued some time before him before he saw them; but at last lifting up his Eyes, and shewing some trouble at the fight of them, he paid them the Civility which was due to them. These young Beauties, either to torment him, or out of Jealousie, laught at the Employment which they had found Alcander busied with, and re∣proaching him with the Plunder he had made of all those Flowers for the sake of Celintha, they added, That it was not fit she alone should be adorned with the Spoyls of the Garden; and lastly, That they had at their first arrival marked these Flowers, out of the desire and hope they had of gathering them. Alcander, who saw himself obliged to remember

the Respect he owed unto his Uncles House, and who as young as he was, knew how to behave himself as he ought, was in such a disorder, that he did not know what to answer. When he saw them all seize upon the Flowers which he had at first designed for Celintha, one may easily guess how violent the condi∣tion such a heart as Alcander's was in; he had however the power of restraining himself, and only desired their leave to gather some other Flowers, to repair the loss which he had received from them. These young Ladies perceiving the vio∣lence which he used to himself, restored to him all his Flowers: One of them in a scornful manner told him, It was not just for them thus to rob his Mistress; another with somewhat of a severer Look, accompanied with Spite, letting him know, That she would have no Flowers that were gather'd for another, and that she could well enough dispence with the loss of an Ornament which he owed to Celintha. Alcander, who heark∣ned to nothing that was said, and who grudged all the minutes which were lost in useless Complements, thanks them all equally, and asks their permission to

leave their Company, to pay those du∣ties which his younger years had indis∣pensably obliged him to. At these words he goes out of the Garden, and finding at the door a Coach which was brought for him, instead of the Horses which he had ordered to follow him, he goes into it, and returns to the Town, burning with love and impatience: He goes strait to the House of Liriana, he flyes through her Apartment, and enters upon a sud∣den into the Chamber of Celintha, to of∣fer her himself his Present, full of confi∣dence and joy; but casting his eyes upon Celintha, he sees Dorilas sitting by her, who bending his head towards her hand, was just going to kiss it. Alcander struck with this sight, as with a Thun∣der-bolt, remains insensible and unmove∣able, his smiling and serene Countenance was cover'd with a dark cloud, the red and liveliness of his Complexion gives place to a deadly paleness, his Eyes that were wont to sparkle with joy, and would with a violent transport ad∣vance outwards, and sparkle, were now quite darkned, and did retire inwardly; he had a mind at length to complain, but his grief stopt his words. In short, this

trouble and disquiet which is shut up within his Soul, breaks out; his Eyes kindle with disdain; he takes the Flow∣ers and the Fruit, throws them upon the ground, tears the Nosegays, throws them under his feet; and not being able any more to bear the presence of Celintha, he goes out of her Chamber, and re∣turns home in so strange a passion and disorder, that his Parents who were a∣larmed, his Governor who was provo∣ked at an absence of three or four hours, had not the power to chide him; they seemed more concerned at his grief, than angry at his fault. Alcander throws himself at the feet of his Parents, and after having given them a sincere Relati∣on of all that had pass'd, protests open∣ly to them, that to provoke them no fur∣ther, he was resolved to break with Ce∣lintha, and to apply himself solely to his duty: He conjures them, pouring out a flood of tears, never to force him more to visit the ungrateful, the unfaithful and cruel Celintha. Olympia having setled his mind by her sweetness and reasons, he lived for some time with much less disquiet than formerly, and flattered himself in private with an appearance of

quiet, which made him believe he had forgotten Celintha, and his Love for her. But how is it possible always to stem a Torrent, I mean an invincible Inclinati∣on? it begins again to make it self be felt as violent as ever. Alcander resists it with all the power he has, he flyes the sight of Celintha, but when chance offers her to his eyes, he can restrain neither his Looks nor his Sighs, which make their escape towards her, he is surprized with thoughts which are all of Celintha, when he would think of any thing else. And forgetting already his trouble and resentment, he enquires how she does; if he hears Dorilas named, he seems to be moved and to tremble, and changes colour; if he finds Dorilas amongst his Companions at Play, he shews sufficient∣ly by his cold reception, or by his forced Courtesies, the aversion he has for his Rival, and even his whole behaviour to∣wards him, plainly shews the desire he has to quarrel with him, in order to find a pretence of claiming that sort of com∣ing to a right understanding, which was commonly practised in those days, out of a nice point of Honour, which has cost France so much noble Blood. But Dori∣las,

who had a great deal of Love and Courage, and who had also a great deal of Prudence, excused his Rival, as being a Youth, and pardoned his mis-govern∣ment, imputing it to the excess of an un∣fortunate Passion.

All that Alcander did, shewed but too much, that the resolution which he had taken of not seeing Celintha any more, was founded upon a false Cure, and was supported only by the strength of his dis∣dain. And as this obstinate humour, which he had made appear from his In∣fancy, had changed into a strength of mind and firmness of courage, he had made it a point of honour to himself to break for ever with Celintha, and to resist the torrent which carried him away to∣wards her. This constraint which he put continually upon himself was so vio∣lent, that it had like to cost him his Life; he falls sick, the Physicians are called, who immediately think to cure the Di∣sease without examining the Cause, re∣solve, but to no purpose, upon a method of Cure for him according to the usual forms. Olympia, who never lost sight of her Son, had observed, that the ab∣sence of Celintha was the only cause of

Alcander's sickness, has recourse to the true Remedy: She obtains a Visit to him from Celintha, who loving only Do∣rilas, and being of her self removed at some distance from him, to avoid giving him the trouble which the sight of her had caused, was brought with some diffi∣culty to grant the request of Olympia; but at last she yielded to the desires of an afflicted Mother, to her natural goodness, or it may be to the pleasure she took in insulting over the ignorance of the Physi∣cians, and to do that by her presence, which the Physicians had not been able to effect by their Medicines. Olympia prepares her Son for this Visit, to pre∣vent the dangers of a sudden surprize: The bare hope of this sight restores strength to the Patient; his eyes which before were almost out by a deep sorrow, rekindled, and sparkled with joy. One of his Friends who sate near his Bed, and who took notice of this sudden change, out of an unseasonable joy mentioned it aloud, which had like to have spoyl'd all; for Alcander had some shame of his weakness, and suffering himself to be transported with disdain that still re∣mained, was upon the point of refusing

the visit from Celintha; but being come again to himself, by seeing in the sorrow∣ful silence of his friend his repentance for his imprudence, he received Celintha; who came in a moment afterwards. At her first approach Alcander was in so great a disorder, he being somewhat a∣shamed to appear in this condition to the eyes of those who were about him; but the more he endeavours to hide his Con∣cern, the more it breaks out; those spi∣rits which began to revive and restore his Countenance, did retire back, and leave it pale, his Looks becoming fixt, and full of astonishment. Celintha, who had pity on him, made signs to those who were about his Bed, to go out of the Room. Alcander is affected with this goodness of Celintha, it affords him some hopes, and makes him put on a different air from that which he had be∣fore; there returns immediately upon his Looks a certain sprightfulness of charming-sweetness, and vivacity in his eyes, and an agreeable smile spreads it self over his lips. In short, there ap∣pears throughout his whole Person, that which may be called the effect of Joy and Hope; he would have spoken, to thank

Celintha for the honour of her Visit, but speech failed him as well as expressions. Celintha, who had for Alcander all that a Woman could have of most kind and fa∣vourable, excepting her Love, which was wholly engaged to Dorilas, said to him the most obliging things, and such as were most proper for the restoring him to his health. But this motive of pity, which made her speak so tenderly to him, and whose language resembled so much that of Love, was carried too far; she began to fear, that in going about to cure Alcander's Disease, she should in∣crease his Love by false hopes; and this fear threw her into some disorder, which was observed by Alcander, and which made him immediately relapse into his jealous diffidence of her. Thus all his pain returning again, No, no, Celintha, answered he, with a feeble and languish∣ing voice, flatter no more a Wretch with your goodness which he does not deserve, and which your own heart disowns: Take less care of a Life, which can serve only to disturb your quiet; Heaven has caused me to be born for you, but it has made you for Dorilas; live for the sake of that happy Lover, and suffer an un∣fortunate

Wretch to die, who is not al∣lowed to live for you. Alas dear Alcan∣der, replied Celintha, I would not have you die! I had rather—There making a stop, fearing to say too much, or not to say enough, being prest by her too great natural goodness, and being too much moved by the deplorable conditi∣on of Alcander, she was going, without doubt, to speak what she would after∣ward have repented of, when some Per∣sons of Quality coming into the Cham∣ber, hindred her from pursuing her Dis∣course. She takes her leave, Olympia goes out with her, and after having thanked her for her Favours, May I pre∣sume, said she, to beg you to continue your Visits; I know very well all that passes, but you are as good, as a Mother is unjust; be pleased, dear Celintha, to vouchsafe to entertain and amuse his pas∣sion, without injuring that Love you have for Dorilas; give some encourage∣ment to Alcander's hopes, until his rea∣son which prevails more and more every day can make him conquer a passion, which can never make him happy. Ce∣lintha, who was too sincere to deny what she felt for Dorilas, and too modest

to confess it, and besides was not able to deny Olympia, answered her with some disorder, and promised, but it was with some little trouble, (as she was leaving her) to do all that was in her power to∣wards her quiet, and that of her Son.

Alcander, flatter'd with some hopes which the tenderness of Celintha gave him, recovered, and his strength return∣ed, and as he was in a continual search for any thing that might be pleasing to Celintha; and that this earnest desire stirred up all the powers of his mind, those talents which hither to had remain∣ed buried, and as it were suspended by the weakness of his Youth, began now to display themselves, and above all the disposition he had to the making of Ver∣ses. So soon as he had felt this noble fire which comes from above, and which makes the greatest Poets, his first Essays surprized every body with wonder, and his love having given a further degree of heat to this divine fire, he made Verses with an incredible facility; the turn of them was easie, and the expressions bold, and they had a wonderful exactness, which proceeding neither from Art nor Study, shewed the excellency of his na∣tural

Parts, and his great Ingenuity. It was at the time when the new Sapho, who surpasses in every thing the ancient Greek Sapho, I mean Madamoiselle de Scudery, by that lawful Authority which she has obtained in the amorous and wit∣ty World, introduced a word of admira∣ble use into the language of Lovers; it is the word Tender, and that of Tenderness, which giving a more discreet Idea of Love, hath spared the use of terms, which were a little too licentious for the modesty of persons who are scrupulously vertuous. This term of Tender in this sence appear∣ed so agreeable to the mind, and was so well received by all persons who had any relish for Poetry, that there was neither Song nor Madrigal made wherein it was not used, and to which it did not add a great deal of grace by its novelty, and by the beauty of the expression. Alcan∣der, who had hitherto felt but only a blind inclination for Celintha, which he did not know how to define, insensibly found that it was Love; this Love began to grow into Desires, and this violent Passion not being able to conceal it self, but shewing it self too openly, forced Ce∣lintha to retrench her complaisance, and

to arm her self with all her severiry. Al∣cander fought it with all his weapons, and did not fail to make use of this word Tender, which was newly invented; and as Respect always accompanies great Passions, when-ever he made any Song for Celintha, he concealed her Name un∣der the term of Phillis, and that of his Desires under the respectful term of Ten∣der. The number of the fine Verses which he composed, was more for the honour of Celintha, than his own; but he did not like certain Poets of Quality, whereof some out of a proud modesty do keep to themselves all the Verses they make, and blush at the exposing a Ta∣lent, which does honour to every body: or as others, who out of a ridiculous vanity do affect raising themselves into Authors, would have the meanest of their Trifles be seen by all the World, and out of this forward ambition do beg the praises which are given them aloud in complai∣sance, but which are refused them in pri∣vate out of justice. When Alcander shewed his Verses, it was without shame as well as without forwardness; but yet that which had any thing of fine and pas∣sionate in it, shaked more than once the

constancy of his Mistress, and made her Love for Dorilas to stagger. Celintha had for Alcander new Complacencies, and Alcander felt in himself for her new Mo∣tions, which he had not yet known; this indiscreet joy, which a great passion suf∣fers to discover of it self, when it thinks it self happy, became so visible in all the actions of Alcander, that Celintha was very much concerned at it. She re∣proached her self for that innocent weak∣ness she suffered to appear in favour of this Lover, notwithstanding the Love she had for Dorilas; but it was not with∣out great difficulty that she subdued her sweetness of temper, which continually betray'd her, and that she endeavour'd by some forced hardships which she put upon Alcander, to revenge the Cause of Dorilas, upon the credulity of Alcander. Alcander, who was of a penetrating Judgment, was quickly undeceived; this knowledge raised his indignation, awakned his pride, and his Reason with these Helps thought it self able to over∣come this passion: But finding himself utterly unable to conquer it, much less to satisfie it, he turns all his thoughts on the side of Honour, and hopes to be com∣forted

by it, for all the disgusts of an un∣fortunate passion. His Parents, his Go∣vernour, his Masters, his own Reason, and his Courage, do withdraw him from the presence of Celintha; and he being of an age and in a condition very proper to make a Journey to Court, to receive there his last Accomplishments, which are not to be found elsewhere, they were resolved to send him to Paris. He him∣self being desirous to have his departure hastned, and to that end coming into his Mothers Chamber with his usual hasti∣ness, he was tenderly struck with the Beauty of a young Lady, who being just come from Paris with her Mother, paid her first Visit to Olympia. Having seated himself next to this young Person, whose Name was Rosolinda, he looked upon her with all the earnestness which Re∣spect and Decency would allow him; he let some Glances slip, which seemed to be fixt upon the Eyes of Rosolinda, and so soon as he had met a return, he let fall his own, out of a respectful awe, and with an air which seemed to shew some∣what of passion. Rosolinda, whom Fame had prepared to favour Alcander, but who had not yet heard what had passed

between him and Celintha, perceived with some joy the little disorder which appeared in the Countenance of Alcan∣der, and finding in it some glimmerings of a Conquest, she immediately did all that the Art of pleasing, without preju∣judice to her modesty, could do to add to her Beauty. This first Conversation be∣gan with a silence, which yet uttered many things; it was kept up by a sort of Complements, which often signifie nothing, and continued by mutual Com∣mendations, which were given and re∣turned with a sincere esteem, but in so gentile and well turned a manner, that it made praises to be agreeable and com∣patible with the nicest modesty. Their Conversation had gone farther, if the Mother of Rosolinda, taking her leave of Olympia, had not interrupted it; but being forced to part, they shewed each other that they had a great deal yet to say. Alcander being retired into his Apartment, his imagination being filled with the thoughts of Rosolinda, he thought he felt in his heart some disposi∣tion to revenge the loss of Celintha: At least, said he within himself, I feel some agreeable motions, which the Civilities

of Rosolinda have raised in my mind, and which seem to comfort me in some mea∣sure in my despair, and do a little sweet∣en the bitterness of my Afflictions; and it may be Heaven it self, which offers me so favourable an opportunity for my cure, will give me the power to finish it, and make me to bear a gentler yoke, and such as will leave me in some hope. Whilst Alcander flattered himself with these Reflections, Rosolinda, who began to bear a great part in all that concerned Alcander, having now known his afflicti∣on, and the engagement of Celintha, thought it would be easie for her to make a conquest of what Celintha had neglected. She longed to see Alcander, who owed her a Visit, and to endeavour in so favourable a Juncture to dis-engage him from a desperate passion, and to render her self Mistress of a heart which the cruelty of Celintha had broken and tormented. Alcander soon satisfied her Impatience; he went to see the Mother, to get her leave to visit the Daughter: He obtains it, and immediately gives himself up wholly to the design which he had of loving her, and making himself be beloved by her. When he is with

her, he displays before her to the utmost, whatsoever he used to shew of the amo∣rous and the witty, at times when he was most ambitious of pleasing: He shews in his Conversation that vivacity of Wit, and greatness of Soul, which do use to attract esteem, and especially since the terms in which he expresses himself, have an I know not what of lively and natural, which agrees with the sincerity of his thoughts. Rosolinda, who had, like him, a lively imagination, and a haughty mind, thought and did every thing like him, (that is to say) with a great deal of gentileness. This confor∣mity of them both in their thoughts and in their expressions, seemed to prepare them for a perfect union: There was be∣tween them this difference, that Rosolin∣da having nothing in her heart which op∣posed the passion she begun to feel for Al∣cander, in the ardent desire she had to please him, followed her Inclination; whereas Alcander having also a design to please Rosolinda, was forced to encoun∣ter the Inclination which carried him to∣wards Celintha. Thus Alcander finding himself too much pre-engaged, endea∣vours the more to love Rosolinda: In or∣der

to this, he forces himself, as much as possible, to fill his imagination with the merit of Rosolinda: He fixes all his Looks upon what he sees in her, to be the most moving, and the most engaging; he examines, he studies all her Beauties, he searches, and thinks to find a certain delicacy in all her thoughts, a certain ac∣curateness in her expressions, and in all that she does, a new sort of agreeable∣ness, which no body had yet observed; he fancies Graces in all her Person which she had not, although indeed she possest many of them to a great degree. Roso∣linda seconds his Intentions, and forgets nothing of those strokes which may gain her so advantagious a Victory. This first Visit, which had lasted much longer, if it had been to be measured by the pleasure which it gave to them both, being ended by the Laws of Decency, they parted with some assurance of having raised in each an esteem the one for the other. Al∣cander went from this Conversation, with a satisfaction and agreeable disturbance which he took, for a certain presage of the change he wished for with so much earnestness. He continues his Visits, and now far from hastning his Journey to

Paris, he does seek excuses to retard it. Now because the motive which con∣tinually inclined him to Celintha, did di∣sturb the happy beginnings of this En∣terprise, he found himself still in an un∣certain condition, his Heart belonging neither to Rosolinda, nor to Celintha, since it was tyed to the one by a Chain, which Fate had made with her own hands, and to the other by a violent desire of his own, to bestow all his Love upon her; he was resolved to enter into an Engagment in despight of his Heart, which nothing might be capable of breaking. He would therefore needs lay an obligation upon himself, by shew∣ing to all the World, that he is the Lo∣ver and Adorer of Rosolinda; he says it so often, that he perswades himself that he is so; and to forget nothing of what may advance this Love in a Mind pre∣possest by another Passion, he draws the Picture of Rosolinda in Verses, he fills himself with her Idea, and he pre∣sents to his mind a Collection of the de∣licate Stroaks and Features of which her Beauty is composed.

Scarce had he finished his Verses, but without giving himself time to exa∣mine

and polish them, he sends them to Rosolinda, and shews them to his Friends with a forwardness which was not usu∣al in him; it was enough for him to be∣lieve that this impetuous desire which had made him make this Picture with this great quickness, was an undoubted mark of his new Passion. Celintha, who knew already something of it, was ex∣treamly pleased to see in Alcanders Verses the confirmation of a Change which she so earnestly wished for. Com∣ing therefore to Rosolinda, to whom she owed a Visit, she makes the Conversati∣on to fall upon this Subject, not out of an indiscreet and jealous Curiosity, which is so common to all Women, but out of a generous Goodness, which made her concern her self for Alcanders quiet, and who pleased her self in con∣gratulating Rosolinda for so honourable a Conquest. How happy are you, said she, to Rosolinda, to find in Alcander a Lover who knows how to praise as well as to love! who shews you so much Wit when he gave you a Heart, and who mixes with his Presents such pre∣cious Incense! What likehood is there, replied Rosolinda, that a Heart which

oves you once, can or will ever love a∣nother? The Verses which Alcander made for me, do form the Idea of a Beauty which never was in being; and as the Picture does not resemble me, and is so much above me, Alcander's Love is no less incredible than his Praises. Rosolinda, said Celintha, has not less Mo∣desty than Beauty. Celintha answered, Rosolinda has not only all that can make a person be beloved by all the World, but she has for the Eyes of Alcander a certain Charm, which ties him to her Person with Knots which he can never be able to break. It is in that, replied Celintha, lies the Priviledge of a Beauty like yours—As she was pursuing her Discourse, word was brought that Alcander desired to see her. At this Name of Alcander, imagine what was the surprize of them both, who had such different Motives and Interests. Rosolinda ordered him to be conducted in, being desirous to see the effect which the Presence of Celintha would cause before her, upon the mind of a revolted Lover; and Celintha was over∣joyed to be upon this occasion with Ro∣solinda, that Alcander comparing the

one with the other, might be the better convinced of the preference which was due to her Rival, and give himself up at last wholly to this his new Mistress. Alcander came into the Chamber, and seeing Celintha with Rosolinda, was so surprized, that he could not dissemble the disorder it put him nito, and he knew not which to fix his eyes upon. This distraction and disorder which appeared in his thoughts, made Rosolinda asha∣med, and raised a great deal of pity in Celintha: All three were struck dumb, and not knowing with what to begin the Conversation, kept silence for some time; Rosolinda broke it at last, and not being able to abstain from thanking Al∣cander, for the description he had made of her in Verse. Alcander answer'd her Complement, in terms which shewed the great disturbance of his mind: He turns his eyes towards Celintha, and seems with submissive and languishing Looks to tell her, he repented the having contradicted by his Verses which he had made for another, all that he knew be∣longed to her: He finds he loves none but Celintha, and seems to have forgot∣ten that she loved no body but Dorilas.

Celintha, who would have rescued him from this Disorder, said to him with her usual sweetness, I see Alcander, that lo∣ving Honour as you do to the highest point, you fear the offending against it, by shewing before me, that you have ta∣ken back your heart to give it to another; but does not Honour it self dictate to you, that it is a shameful thing for such a Person as you, to lose upon me such precious Sighs as yours are? I must con∣fess, I do esteem the heart which I had the disposal of so much, as to believe it was not unworthy of you, and if it were possible for you to gain it either by force of Merit, Love, or Constancy, it would then (it may be) be shameful for you to yield it up to another; but since it belongs to another, by the irrevocable Command of that Power which abso∣lutely disposes of us, nothing can be more honourable for you, than to free your self from such an unfortunate bon∣dage, and to put your self into the chains of a Beauty you ought to prefer before me, though I were capable of returning your Love. Celintha having spoken these words, rises up, thinking she ought to spare Alcander the confusion of answering;

she takes leave of Rosolinda, and leaves her in an astonishment, no less than Alcander. Rosolinda seeing her self alone with him, having made some endeavours to re-settle her mind, Lift up your eyes, Alcander, said she, and do not blush by reason of the condition which the pre∣sence of Celintha has put you into: I see very well that an invincible charm draws you to her, but since with the help of such a desert, and such a Love as yours, Celintha cannot overcome the inclination which she has for Dorilas, can it be thought strange, that you cannot over∣come for my sake the Love which you have for Celintha? Yield therefore to that destiny, which tyes you to a Person infinitely amiable; love her still, and if so sweet a heart as hers seems not to be made for you, force it to yield it self to your own power. The illustrious Alcan∣der is not born to be always unhappy, his destiny is stronger than that of Dorilas, and even that of Celintha it self; and lastly, there is nothing impossible to Love, Merit, and Perseverance, when you unite them all together. Ah Ma∣dam, answers Alcander, with a great sigh, and as it were coming out of a

deep study, With what hopes would you flatter an unfortunate Lover! I too well feel that I loved Celintha, and I too well see that I shall always love her; but you may imagine that I shall always love her against my will, since it will always be without any hope; and this will be at least a just punishment inflicted upon a heart that will not obey me: If I could take any other course, it should be, with∣out doubt, that of casting off the fetters put upon me by Celintha, to give my self wholly to you. The fight of you alone does often charm my melancholy, and I found my self so filled with the thoughts of you when I made your Pi∣cture, and I did it with so quick and lively a warmth, that I thought that fire in my mind had passed into my heart: But I now see my Error with shame; and though I might hope one day to restore it to my self, that I might offer it entirely to you, would it be just that you should be a moment in doubt of your conquest? How could I still have the rashness to de∣mand of you your heart, for a heart that is yet a prisoner in the chains of ano∣ther, and which has made so many suc∣cessless Attempts to free it self? Can I

enter into your presence, after having ventured to take upon me openly the Name of your Lover, and after having exposed my self to the shame of belying so glorious a Name? I ought to deprive my self for ever of the pleasure and ho∣nour of seeing you. At these words he goes out, without staying for her An∣swer, and as soon as he was got home, he thought of going immediately to Court; he asks leave of his Parents, and makes the best excuse he can for the in∣constancy of his resolutions.

After having resided some time at Pa∣ris, and after having added to his mind, and to all those accomplishments he brought with him out of the Countrey, that agreeable air which is to be gained no where else but there, the progress which he soon made in gaining the gene∣ral esteem of the World, upon his en∣trance into it, the reputation of his Name and Fortune, augmented by a great E∣state, made him looked upon as a very considerable Match. The greatest of the Court had their eyes upon him, and wished for his Alliance: An absence of some years, his Reason fortified by Age, and by the Conversation he had with the

rational World, the application which he made to every thing that could give the last perfection to a Gentleman of Quality, some little Amours which im∣ployed his leisure time, and which young People look upon as a necessary Pleasure. All this seemed to have extinguished the Love which he had for Celintha, to such a degree, that one of his Friends having spoken to him of a great Match, he hear∣kens to the Proposition with pleasure, writes about it to his Parents, procures their Consent, and afterwards courts and gets the Consent of Florisa, for that was her Name. The Match is concluded upon, the day is appointed for all Parties to sign the Contract, and yet see the power of Love guided by Inclination. In the midst of these Preparations for so advantagious a Marriage, he receives News, which stops the execution, which was a misfortune befallen Dorilas, whom the loss of a Law-Suit had totally ruined, and forced to renounce the possession of Celintha; he feels in himself a hope spring up, which he had before lost, and this hope re-kind les his Flames. Having known afterwards that Celintha was sick, and that the beginning of her sick∣ness

was so violent, that she was in dan∣ger of her life, his tenderness towards her increases; imagine then what was the disturbance of a mind agitated with so many motions at the same time. On the one side, the necessity of accomplish∣ing a Marriage resolved upon, the shame of seeing in danger the honour of his Word and Promises, the indispensable obligations of Duty and Decency, the interest of Reputation and Fortune; and on the other side, the Love he has for Celintha, the pity he has of her Sickness, the passion he has to succour her, the im∣patience he has to see her again, and the hopes of possessing her. In this per∣plexity, his first thoughts were to dis∣engage his word; he goes to the Parents of Florisa, throws himself at their feet, makes a sincere confession to them of the condition of his mind, and protests to them, that if notwitstanding the passion which he has for Celintha, which he feels the return of with greater force than ever, they esteemed him worthy of their Daughter, nothing should hinder him from doing his duty, and keeping to his promise. Her Parents, who would not endanger the quiet of their Daughter

they loved so tenderly, soon released Al∣cander from his word. Alcander goes home with all the diligence which his age and his natural activity, his love and his hope, enabled him to do. So soon as he was come thither, he asked for Celintha, and hears that she had been in great danger of her life, by the malig∣nity of that sort of disease which may be called the Scourge of Beauty, since it some∣times dis-figures the finest Faces, and does at least take away that which is cal∣led the flower of Beauty, I mean the gloss and fineness of the Complexion, which was the chief Beauty of Celintha. This accident surprizes Aleander, and far from abating his passion, gives rise to a gene∣rous compassion, which inflames and softens him the more. He asks leave of Celintha to visit her: She who yet saw no body, and who waited tiil time had worn out those cruel impressions which her Sickness had left upon her Face, does notwithstanding at last yield to the pres∣sing desires of Alcander, and to her own good nature. She receives Alcander, who cannot conceal his disorder at the first sight of Celintha, although he had prepared himself against the surprize,

which the change of her Complexion had occasioned. Celintha perceived it, and both having paid the Civilities they ow∣ed each other, after so long an absence. Well then, said Celintha, you see how bad a recompence you have for the impa∣tience which you had to see me; you see how the Heavens take care to cure you of a passion which I have so little merit∣ed. If that had been the intention of Heaven, answered Alcander, I should have been inspired with other thoughts towards you, and should have had ano∣ther heart: Time absence, nor the acci∣dents of life, and the inconstancy which is so natural to men, are able to change, and even to destroy the strongest passions, but yet can have no operation upon mine; I have received it with my life, and it cannot be extinguished but by my death. To answer you, Alcander, re∣plied Celintha, I have only to say the same things over again, which you have said to me, with this difference, that al∣though the passion which I have for Do∣rilas, is not less violent than that which you have for me, yet it is much more un∣fortunate; for I loved Dorilas, I had the consent of my Parents, was beloved

again by him, and cruel Fortune hath thrown my Lover into so extream a po∣verty, that although I might obtain him in this condition with the consent of my Friends, yet I should never be able to gain his own consent. If you love me enough to desire me without desert, and without beauty: Dorilas loves me too much to desire to possess me, when I must go contrary to my duty, and sacri∣fice my self to his bad Fortune; but that which grieves me most, is to see us all three involved in an inextricable misfor∣tune. You can never obtain what you love, and if Fortune should do a miracle for the sake of Dorilas, by restoring him wherewithal to obtain me from my Re∣lations, can I give my self to him, and refuse at the same time so generous a Per∣son as you are? No, no, Alcander, I can∣not give my self to either; I equally hate Treachery and Ingratitude; Dorilas shall have my Love, but you shall have my Esteem and Gratitude. We must then, said he, yield to the severity of our Fates: I must lose you and leave you; as unfor∣tunate as I am, I shall never repent the having loved you, and these excellent thoughts, which at the same time decla∣red

to me both our misfortunes, do but increase the esteem which I have for you. I will obey this fatal power, which ha∣ving tyed me to you, does now separate me from you for ever. If my absence cannot cure me, yet I shall have this ad∣vantage from an invincible inclination, that it will guard me from all other en∣gagements, which though they may be more happy, yet can never be so glori∣ous, as that inclination which engages me to the most lovely and most generous Person in the World. After having spo∣ken these words, he leaves her, and takes the most passionate Farewel that ever was known. Celintha afflicted with the loss of that little Beauty which Nature had bestowed upon her, for Do∣rilas his sad condition, and for Alcan∣der's sorrow, was resolved to leave the Conversation of the World, and to pass the rest of her days in a religious Retire∣ment. Alcander being able no more to pretend to Celintha, seeing himself prest by his Parents, and by the strong Rea∣sons of Honour and Decency, not to suf∣fer so great a Name as his to be lost, could not avoid hearkening to some Propositi∣ons of Marriage. His Father being re∣turned,

as imperious as he was, would not notwithstanding impose upon his choice; for he believed that his Son would at last master a passion that was without hope, and being born with a great deal of courage, he would do no∣thing which was unworthy of his Birth. He saw great advantages in making a Match with Philismena, but he was also very much disgusted with the selfish and difficult ways of proceeding which he ob∣served in her Relations. Alcander, not∣withstanding the great esteem he had for Philismena, was resolved not to oppose the inclination which she had for Lisidor; he thought it best to turn all his thoughts towards Rosolinda, whose extraordinary Beauty, even at the time when he loved Celintha, had made strong impression upon his mind. Rosolinda was returned to Paris, and had entertained in her self something beyond a bare esteem for Al∣cander. Polydamus and Olympia, who had very much better'd their Estate, and the hopes of their House, by their long living in the Countrey, and the impor∣tant Services they had done for the State, resolved to make a Journey to Court: And that they might by their presence

and endeavours contribute to the setling of Alcander, they departed almost at the same time with Philismena, whose Pa∣rents carried her up with them to chuse for her a Match which might answer their Ambition: there it was that Al∣cander received news from Sweden of Li∣sidors Condition and Fortune, which he informed Philismena of, together with his Rise in that Court, and the admira∣ble progress which he made in Military Employments. He received there also Letters from Lisidor in particular, both for himself and for Philismena, and by an exact and faithful Correspondence, he privately kept up this kind Commerce of Letters, which served to increase the inclination they had for each other.

Madonte, to whom Lisidor wrote from time to time, to amuse her Hopes, and to make her Jealousie sleep, having sur∣prised one of the Letters which Lisidor sent to Philismena by the hands of Alcan∣der, had so violent a concern for it, that she would have revealed all, had she not feared for her self the Consequences of so dangerous a discovery. To revenge her self without danger therefore, she has recourse to this Artifice, she makes a false

discovery to one of her Friends, who she knew was under great tyes of Friend∣ship to Lisidor upon many important ac∣compts. She makes him believe that Philismena loved Alexander, and that ab∣sence had absolutely banished from her mind the favourable thoughts that she formerly had for Lisidor. She prepares this Imposture with a great deal of art, and gives it all the Colours which might render it probable. This Friend of Li∣sidor, who had for him a hearty and im∣petuous zeal, writ to him the same day in terms capable of alarming the most incredulous mind. The remoteness and Fortune of Philismena, the merit and quality of Alcander, were powerful rea∣sons to gain Lisidors belief; that which served to convince him throughly was, that Madonte her self had insinuated it in her Letters to him, pretending not to explain her self fully, that she might not render her self suspicious, which tor∣mented him without intermission. Impa∣tient to clear them himself, he seeks for some favourable opportunity to return into his own Country; but not finding any, he begs the King of Sweden's leave, with a great deal of importunity,

and tells him the true reasons of his Journey; but that they might be con∣cealed from others, he desired that he would please to contrive some pretext of a Negotiation which he might ma∣nage privately with the King his Master, and which being plausible enough, al∣though the success might be of no great consequence, might serve for an excuse of his Journey, and might make him appear in his own Country with the honourable marks of his Trust. The King of Sweden, who loved him ex∣treamly, granted his desire, but made him promise a quick return as a recom∣pence of this kindness to him; Lisidor being arrived in the Court of France, re∣mained there some time without making himself known; his restless Passion car∣ried him immediately to seek for some light from Madonte, whom he visited secretly. Madonte compleated the poi∣soning his mind with false relations, which her Jealousie inspired her with, and which she spoke with so great a disturbance of mind, that that alone might easily have undeceived him, had he not been powerfully prepossest by his doubts and his fears. The King in the

private Audiences he gave him, shewed that he had a pleasure in seeing and hearing him, he observes in him a strength of Wit, and in all his person an Air of Modesty and Greatness joyned to∣gether, which obtained in him a very ad∣vantagious Opinion of his Vertue and Courage, and which made him resolve to bind him to his Court by an honourable Chain. Rosolinda, whose Beauty and Vertue made so great a noise, was a ve∣ry proper means for the effecting of his design. Lisidor, who now no more doubted of the change of Philismena, and who believed that the inequality of Fortune and Quality which she had so lately seen between them, was the true cause of it, was resolved to vindicate his Honour by seconding the Kings Intenti∣ons. Neither the Inclination he had for Philismena, nor the Engagement which was upon him to the King of Sweden his Benefactor, could divert him from this thought. He sacrificed every thing to the pleasure he should have of tri∣umphing over Alcander, by whom he thought himself betrayed, and to insult over the Inconstancy of Philismena. In the mean while Philismena being mortal∣ly

afflicted for the Error that Lisidor was in, but too proud to take care to unde∣ceive him, resolved to watch him, and having heard he went often to visit Ro∣solinda, she took it mortally to heart, for she had so tender a sense of it joyned with so infirm a temper of Health, that she fell sick, and her Life was despaired of the very first day. Alcander, who had for her a most tender Esteem, in∣censed at Lisidor for the unjust suspicion which he had harboured of her and him∣self, and allaramed besides at the pre∣tensions which he made to Rosolinda, was just upon the point of chalenging him, and of letting Philismena thereby have the pleasure of seeing her self vin∣dicated before she dyed. But being more concerned to do her good, than to revenge her Quarrel, he goes to Lisidor, and without losing time, reproaches him, and demands of him the reason of his Inconstancy. He tells him the con∣dition wherein Philismena is, and the need she has of his assitance. Lisidor being struck with a sudden surprize, and a deadly Grief, forgetting his last Jea∣lousie and Indignation, feels the sleeping Passion which he had for Philismena a∣waken'd,

throws himself at the feet of Alcander, and begs pardon for his Error; then immediately raising himself, let us go, said he, dear Alcander, let us go to relieve Philifmena, or to dye with her. They were no sooner entred her House, but Alcander sent her notice that she might be prepared for the fight of Lisi∣dor. At this Message there appeared through the thick Paleness which cover∣ed the Face of the sick Philismena, to escape some Rays of Hope and Joy. All those who were in the Rome re∣tired, to give her the opportunity of a free Conversation with Lisidor. Ma∣donte alone being troubled and struck dumb did not know at first what course to take; she could not bear the Prefence of Lisidor, who being just upon the point of justifying and clearing himself, would discover the Cheat which had made him to suspect the Innocence and Faithfulness of Philismena, and being al∣so prest with remorse of Conscience, she was tempted to declare all publickly, and to lessen the Crime, accuse her self whilst she was in this uncertainty. Li∣sidor approached the Bed wherein Philis∣mene lay in a strange disorder, which in∣creased

at the sight of the terrible Change he observed in her Looks. It is I then, said he, who have brought you into so deplorable a Condition, I who am not able to repay with the loss of my Life, the Goodness you have had for me! No, no, cryed out Madonte, with a Voice which shewed her Grief, and the violence of her Despair, it is I, said she, addressing her self to Philismene, it is I alone, who have been cause of Li∣sidors Crime, and who have brought you into this miserable condition; it was my jealous Rage, which made you to pass for unfaithful in the mind of Lisidor: there is no kind of Torment great enough to punish my Treachery. She spoke these words with so loud a Voice, that they were heard into the next Chamber, where the Mother of Philismene was, who returning into her Daughters Chamber, found Madonte in a Weakness which took away both Mo∣tion and Speech from her. She ordered her to be carried into her own Cham∣ber, and after having known the cause of so great a disorder, she leaves our two Lovers in a full freedom of Conver∣sation, It was then, said Philismene,

with a Voice weakned by her Sickness, the Jealousie of Madonte which has been the cause of all my Misfortunes, and I shall at last have this content in dying, that it is not to you alone that the grief which kills me is to be imputed. Oh Lisidor! could you give credit to the relations of a suspicious and an interested Person? How could you believe that I, who loved you at a time when you had nothing to recommend you but your Person, and at a vast distance removed from me, should cease loving you at a time when the Reputation of your Name and Employments render you more a∣miable, and that a glorious Elevation does bring you nearer to an Equality with me? Could you mistrust me in so favourable a Conjuncture? I see your Repentance in your Tears. It is enough Lisidor, comfort your self for the loss of a Life which did belong to you, but which naturally could not last long. I was born with too tender a Health, thô Heaven gave me a Heart to love you al∣ways, yet it has given me a Life which cannot be of long continuance. No∣thing, replied Lisidor, can lessen my Crime or my Grief, should I have

hasten'd your Death but a minute; a Life like mine, no not my whole Life, can repay one minutes loss of so preci∣ous a Life as yours. Oh Heavens! un∣just Heaven! jealous Fortune! hold cri∣ed Philismene in raising her Voice, do not draw down upon you the vengeance of that Soveraign Power which disposes of us, do not disturb these last moments which seem happy enough to me, since they restore me all your Esteem and all your Kindness. What a Reconcilia∣tion, cryed Lisidor, is this, which reu∣nites our Hearts only to separate them again with more cruelty? His Grief had gone on further, if having still some hopes of the life of Philismene, he had not feared her Sickness would have in∣creased by a longer Conversation; he calls her Women, restores her into their hands, and conjures them to double their Care of her. Lisidor was scarce gone out of the Chamber before she re∣lapsed into a Weakness which proved mortal, and she being full of the Image of Lisidor, seeks him round her Bed with distracted and dying Eyes, and imagin∣ing she saw him, she directed her last

farewells to him with so tender and moving a Languishment, that it almost killed with grief and pity all those that heard her.

So soon as Lisidor had heard of the Death of Philismene, he was so af∣flicted at it, that looking upon him∣self as the principal occasion of this Misfortune, he abhorred himself, he would no more see any body, and think of nothing but removing from all that can put him in mind of his Loss or of his Crime, he begs the King to give him his Audience of Leave in private, and to dispense with his appearance at Court in the disorder he was in. The King not∣withstanding this Resolution which he had taken of having him near his Person, could not refuse him this Re∣quest.

Alcander having given some time to his Grief for the Loss which he had suffered of his Illustrious Friend, being prest very much by his Re∣lations to chuse a Match amongst all those proposed, chose Rosolinda, and having obtained her, he endeavoured

comfort himself for the Death of Philismene, and the Retirement of Ce∣lintha, by the Possession of a Beau∣ty which was far beyond the o∣ther's.

The Second HISTORY.

IN the tempestuous Times which were in France, when the Princes of Bour∣bon, being fallen from the Greatness and Priviledges due to their Birth, the House of Guise, and the House of Montmorency, raised to the highest Dignities, gave a na∣tural birth to so many Factions and Jea∣lousies, the natural Springs of fatal Changes and great Revolutions. These Troubles were maintained and augment∣ed by the sudden and precipitate Death of Henry the II. who after having given Peace to France, was unfortunately killed in a Turnament by Montgomery. The Weakness of Francis the II. and after∣wards the Minority of Charles the IX. the Jealousies about the Government, between the Princes of the Bloud, those of Guise, the Constable, and Queen Ka∣therine

de Medicis, raised new Disturban∣ces, which at last brake out into a Civil War. Yet amongst these Dissentions, in the midst of these Fires which were kindled in all Parts, Love did kindle many others, as if Heaven had a mind thereby to unite Hearts, as Ambition en∣deavour'd to divide them. The Passion which Henry the II. had for Diana Dutch∣ess of Valentinois, is very well known: He was more imployed about this Love, than the Laws of his Kingdom, and this Dutchess was seen to have so great a pow∣er with the King, that the Duke of Guise, sought in her Alliance the surest founda∣tion of his Greatness, and the Constable could find only in the same Alliance, wherewith to balance the Interest of his Competitor. These two Rivals, with the hazard of making themselves odious to the Publick, were resolved to unite with the Bloud of Diana, whom the Co∣vetousness of possessing the Government and Riches, had render'd odious to all France. The Duke of Aumale, a Brother to the Duke of Guise, married one of her Daughters, one of her Neeces being mar∣ried also to the Lord of Argile, the Con∣stable's second Son; Diana in so great a

Post giving her self wholly up to the Pleasures of the Court, which a Favour without bounds had furnished her with in abundance, inspired every where an Air of Gallantry, and drew all the World after her by her Example. This I thought fit to premise, to give some Idea of the Genius of that Court, and of the spirit of the Scene where the Adventure happened, which I am going to relate.

Two Gentlemen of Quality, united by an ancient Friendship, and for a long time having espoused the Interest of the Royal Family of the Bourbons, were desi∣rous to find a new occasion of uniting their Families more firmly, by the Mar∣riage of their two Children, whom Hea∣ven seemed to have made for each other: The one had a Son whose Name was Octavius, and the other a Daughter called Henrietta.

Octavius was born with a Physiognomy which gave great Hopes, and with too fine Features and Complexion for a Per∣son of his Sex. His Beauty increased with his Age, without his having any of those Faults which commonly accompany Beauty in Men. He avoided with great care, all that might make it be thought

of him, that he affected the looking handsom, or that he flatter'd himself with being so. But there appeared in him with his fineness of Feature, a noble and charming Greatness, and a meen of Quality.

Henrietta was born with an extraordi∣nary Beauty, and that which she had of singular, was a kind of a tender and lan∣guishing Air, which was equivalent to the most sparkling Vivacity. This lan∣guishing way of hers, was neither fear∣fulness nor weakness, but an agreeable impression of the sweetness of her mind, which manifested it self in her face, and did not want a firmness and greatness of Courage which nothing was able to shake.

With this Equality of Birth, Quality, and Merit, it was not difficult to form a perfect Intelligence between Octavius and Henrietta, and such a one as their Pa∣rents would doubtless wish for one day, to unite them by Marriage. In order to prepare them for this Union, Heaven had given to each for the other so violent an Inclination, that no History can give a more singular and great Example of this sort of Love. This was not all: The

Death of the Mother of Henrietta, served very much to keep up and fortifie this happy Sympathy. Her Father, whom we shall here call Gaston, which was his proper Name, although he most com∣monly lived in the Countrey, would not leave his Daughter there; and so soon as he saw himself forc'd to follow the Court, to manage all opportunities of serving his Party, in a time when two powerful Factions were in a continual motion, he carried her thither with her Governess, and put her into the hands of Octavius his Mother. Henrietta was now entring into her 8th. year, and Octa∣vius was very near the same Age.

So soon as they met, there did not ap∣pear in their Faces that reserved and cold air, which is commonly observed in Children, at the first sight of Persons they do not know: There was no need of the Governour and Governess taking care to teach them mutual civility: a sud∣den motion, a hasty attraction pushes them forwards towards one another; they run to salute, and to embrace each other like Friends, who had been acquainted for a long time. I need not tell you, by how many sensible signs, and by what a

conformity of opinions, thoughts and desires, they made appear every moment the effects of this wonderful Sympathy; they did so resemble in mind and in heart, that the most exact Picture could less resemble its Original; so that the World was apt to believe, that that which was only the effect of a natural In∣clination, was rather that of a studied Imitation. There was no difficulty in making them agree in their Pleasures and Diversions: The first of them who na∣med the Diversion, was followed with∣out hesitation by the other; for when one shewed to have a mind to any thing, there was always found in the other an implicit complyance. There was not to be found between them, those Jealousies which are usually seen between Chil∣dren, about the Presents, Caresses, or Praises, which are given to them; they put them off from one to the other with a becoming and sincere modesty, when they vyed in their application to the Stu∣dies which were common to them both, as History and Geography. This emu∣l••tion was nor the effect of the desire of the one to go beyond the other, but of a violent desire of each to become the more amiable unto the other.

It may be easily judged by the things that I have now said, what a trouble it was to them, when the different imploy∣ments of a different Sex forced them to part, and what trouble they underwent by suffering the shortest absence, and by the impatience they had of seeing each other again.

So soon as they pass'd their Childhood, Age had given to Henrietta more light to know her self, and that that Inclination which was disguised under the mask of a bare Friendship, made it self be felt as a dangerous Passion: That Reason which she had supported by a becoming Bashful∣ness which usually accompanies the fair Sex, made her apprehend the disorders which commonly follow the greatest Pas∣sions. Although hers was allowed by her Parents, yet she thought that she ought to retrench a little that great fami∣liarity she had with her Lover, and con∣form her self to the decency of an Age, which required a more reserved and cau∣tious Behaviour. But all these Reflecti∣ons were of very little effect, against that Inclination which carried her away con∣tinually towards Octavius; so that her Governess, for this Reason, was forced

to make use of all the severity of her Les∣sons, and her Authority; and Octavius, who owed a part of his time, to the Ex∣ercises which his Age call'd him to, was forced, against his will, to deprive himself of the pleasure which he had of seeing her at all hours. They could comfort them∣selves sometimes with the joy which they had, of seeing each other from time to time, and by the certain hopes o•• their Marriage, which their Parents very earnestly wished for, and only waited for a favourable opportunity to accomplish. But observe to how many Changes their Fortune was exposed, by the Tyes which it had with that of the State. The Prince of Conde, who was of an unquie•• stirring humour, and capable of under taking any thing, in order to gratifie hi•• revenge, and to make himself still greate•• having rendred himself suspected by th•• height of his Fortune, and by his Co••∣duct, to have a share in all the Commo∣tions which the Hugonots had stirred 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the State; and especially the Consp••∣racy of Amboys provoked Katherine de M••∣dici••, and the Princes of Lorrain, so mu•••• against him, that they thought after m••∣ny uncertain and unsetled Deliberatio•…•…

it was absolutely necessary to be rid of him, to secure the King's Authority, and the Constitution of the Government. To effect so difficult and so dangerous a Mat∣ter, many Artifices were made use of: They resolved to hold a general Assembly of the three Estates, and to draw the Princes of the Blood thither, who were retired from Court. There were very favourable Declarations publisht, which lull'd asleep the Suspicions of the Great ones, and quieted the minds of the Con∣spirators. The Princes of Bourbon, and the Constable, being called to the States by the King's Writ, promised to go, but prolonged the time by false preten∣ces and frivolous excuses, the King ma∣king them be prest by the Count de Crus∣sol, and the Marshal de St. André, and especially by the Marshal de Termes, who raised an Army, and threatned he would make them obey by force of Arms, the resolution which they had taken to be∣lieve only their own Judgment, which continually filled them with invincible distrusts, is at last shaken. The Cardinal of Bourbon, a Prince who was a Friend to Peace, and a mortal Enemy of Factions and Novelties, having at length gained

them, the King of Navarr and the Prince of Bourbon depart from Bearn, and come to Orleans, where the States were assem∣bled. There are immediately new ……ards put upon the King of Navarr, to be secure of him, and the Prince of Conde is arrested and condemned to lose his Life: What were the Alarms of Octa∣vius and Henrietta, to see the Heads of their Party in the hands of their Ene∣mies, and in Dangers that were inevi∣table? but also what was the joy which succeeded these cruel Afflictions, when the sudden Death of Francis the 2 d. re∣stored liberty to the Prince of Conde, safe∣ty to the King of Navarr, and hopes to all those of their Party? In the Conjun∣cture of so favourable a Revolution, Octa∣vius presses his Marriage, the Parents Consent and all was disposed for the sa∣tisfaction of our two Lovers, when the accomplishment of it was suspended by the Impatience of the Princes, who now thought of nothing but their Interest, which was without delay to make a good use of so advantagious an opportunity, and to seize immediately upon the Power of the Government. The King of Navarr sends the Father of Octavius to the Con∣stable,

who was absent, to stir up his di∣ligence, and to hasten the helps which he expected from the stability and wis∣dom of his Councels. On the other side, the Prince of Conde burning with the de∣sire of revenging himself, and making use in order thereto of the Hugonot Facti∣on, which was stirring almost in all Parts of the Kingdom, sends the Father of Henrietta to the chiefest of the Party, to keep up their heat, and to make it break out upon occasion. Things being in this condition, imagine if you can, the Trouble Octavius and Henrietta were in, whose tender minds, afflicted by the present Disorders, were yet more so by the Fears of a more terrible futurity. What, said they to each other, must the fate of our Love follow the Revolutions of State? and must our happiness depend upon a calm, which so many different Interests render almost impossible? The Jealousie of two powerful Factions, the Ambition of the Queen, who was resolv∣ed to preserve a Soveraignty and an In∣dependance in her Government of the King and Kingdom, the just pretensions of the Princes of Bourbon, who by the pri∣viledges of their Blood, ought to have

the greatest share in the administration of Affairs, during the King's Minority, the credit of the House of Lorrain, whom a long possession of the principal Digni∣ties of the State, had made more obstinate to preserve the haughtiness of the Duke of Guise, who knew himself to have a greatness of mind so proper for Com∣mand: the couragious vertue of the Con∣stable, who without intermission used all his Endeavours for the publick good, without suffering himself to be corrupted by the Friendship he owed to the Princes of the Blood his Allies, nor by the Ha∣tred which he bare to the Princes of Lor∣rain his Rivals, and his declared Ene∣mies. Add to this, the zeal for the Pro∣testant Religion: How many Obstacles, said the sorrowful Henrietta, in that languishing tone which rendred her voice so sweet and tender? how many Obsta∣cles, said she, do oppose this Calm so much wished for, which contributing so much to the safety of the State, ought to be the height of our Wishes? Do our Parents serve the Princes with so much passion, that they cannot be allowed to give themselves a moment of rest to ac∣complish our Happiness? But why, added

she, should we complain of our Fate? Is it not enough for us, that Heaven has poured into our hearts that perfect har∣mony which makes the happiness of Lo∣vers? Oh Madam, cried out Octavius! do you count the possession of that which one loves nothing? and does there want any thing towards that conformity of thoughts and desires which ought to be between us, to answer to this mutual in∣clination? Let us equally wish for what may render us equally happy: All that comforts us, is to see that the Disorders of the State which retard our Happiness, cannot separate us asunder, because my Father and yours are of the same Party, my Father belonging to the King of Na∣varr, yours to the Prince of Conde; for who can ever separate two Brothers, uni∣ted with so many Tyes of Blood, Friend∣ship and Honour?

Whilst our Lovers flatter'd themselves thus, the Prince of Conde who could not remain in a quiet condition, whilst he saw himself kept at a distance from the Place, which he thought belonged to him by the right of his Birth, and the greatness of his Courage, seeing himself seconded by Admiral Chastillon, made

himself Protector of the Hugonots, whose Number and Power increased daily. This Prince being bred up in the Do∣ctrine of Calvin; and full of that Spirit of Independency and Rebellion, which ani∣mates his Followers, endeavours in vain to get to his Party the Constable and the King of Navarr. The first being fixt in the Religion of the State, and of his Ancestors, who bragged of their being the first Christians, hearkned to nothing against his Duty; the other, whose un∣steady Belief was at last fixt in that of the Roman Catholicks, condemns aloud that which the Church of Rome has con∣demned, and takes her Part. Queen Jane his Wife endeavoured to make him change his Resolution, but he judged that for a Prince, who might pretend to the Crown, the Religion of our Kings was the easiest way to it.

This resolution of the King of Navar, which united him with the Duke of Guise and the Constable, although it was grounded upon plausible reasons and pretences, did notwithstanding a∣stonish all the World, surprise the Poli∣ticks of our Courtiers, throw confusion into the Hugonot Party, and indignation

into the mind of the Prince of Conde, and especially struck the hearts of Octa∣vius and Henrietta with the most mortal stroak that they could ever receive. They immediately saw that their Sepa∣ration must necessarily follow the Divisi∣on of the two Brothers. In effect, Gaston Father to Henrietta, who though bred up a Roman•• Catholick, yet had no other Religion but that of his Ma∣ster, or rather that which suited best with his Ambition, a man full of the Spirit and Character of his Party, that is to say, fiery and impetuous, thinks immediately of withdrawing his Daugh∣ter out of the hands of the Mother of Octavius. He goes to her House, and having found Octavius with Henrietta, Octavius, said he abruptly, all commerce must be broken between you and my Daughter; Heaven and Love had given her to you, and I had designed her for you my self; but the King of Navarre out of a weak and ambitious Policy, suffering his Eyes to be dazled with the prospect of a Crown, although he sees it but afar off, sacrifices, with distant and doubtful hopes, his Party, his Ho∣nour, and his Conscience. This Prince

in breaking with his Brother to joyn with his Enemy, has broken all the Bonds which tied my House to yours; more especially, since it is your Father who (being one of his greatest Favou∣rites) has chiefly contributed to∣wards this Re-union, and thereby has declared himself the greatest of our E∣nemies. I will give you no advice which may make a breach between the Son and the Father, every one ought in the Interests of a Party or Religion, to follow his own Reason or his Pretensi∣ons. I shall only say, that if you love my Daughter, Love is able to do all things in so great a Heart as yours, and ought to fet you above the weakness of common Men. I give you the rest of this day to think of it. I have also bu∣siness of my own to look after, and Or∣ders from the Prince of Conde to exe∣cute unto the Queen, so I must leave you in the mean while to take your Re∣folution.

Our two Lovers overwhelmed by a Discourse which threatned them with an inevitable Separation, asked each o∣ther, in a Language mixed with Sighs and Tears, what course was to be ra∣ken

in this horrible extremity of Affairs. It is now dear Octavius, said the discon∣solate Henrietta to him, with a mortal Grief, that we must part for ever. Yes, for ever, replied Octavius, in a Tone which even pierced the Heart of Henri∣etta, but what miracle can ever unite Interests which are so opposite to each other? If hitherto your Father by the little zeal he had for his Religion, suf∣fered you to be bred up a Roman Ca∣tholick by your Mother, at present that he is thus carried away with zeal for the Hugonot Religion, will he ever suffer his Daughter to be of another? and I, whose Birth and Inclination have made me of your Religion; must I change, if you are forced to change your Religion? Nothing Octavius, replied Henrietta, can make me change either my Religion or my Love, both come to me from Hea∣ven, and that perfect Simpathy which is between us, inspiring us with the same thoughts, answers me for your Con∣stancy, and it is, cried out Octavius, that which makes the greatest of our Misfor∣tunes, and which exposes us to the vi∣olence of our Parents. We owe them an Obedience without any reservation,

and that supream Power which Heaven gives them over us, engaging us in dif∣ferent Parties, must most unmercifully deprive us of the Conversation of each other. Add to the mortal Affliction I shall suffer by ceasing to see you, all the Misfortunes which are natural Conse∣quences of Civil Broils. Being now of an Age to bear Arms, I may (perhaps) be forced to fight with our best Friends, and it may be (I tremble at this terrible Thought, in the blind Fury of the Fights, the first stroak of my Sword may fall upon the Father of my dear Henrietta.

In the mean time, whilst our two Lo∣vers discoursed of a matter which was so afflicting and sorrowful, Katherine de Medicis was full of mortal Disquiet, and took strange allarms at the extraordina∣ry Union between the King of Navarre and the Duke of Guise. This cunning and distrustful Queen judging others by her self, imputed their Union to as dan∣gerous a Policy as her own; and doubt∣ed not but that the Chiefs of the Party had promised each other mutual As∣sistance, to procure themselves all the share they pretended to in the Govern∣ment.

To break their Designs, she thought it necessary to make use of the Counterpoise which she had always done with so much success; that is to say, to balance the strength of the two Parties, and hinder the one from weighing down the other, that she might not be opprest by that Party which should have the ad∣vantage.

In order to this, she pretends to ma∣nage a secret Correspondence with the contrary Party; she expresses her self concerning their Beliefs in ambitious and suspicious Terms, which made her own become doubtful; she confers with the most intimate of the Prince of Conde's Councils, and makes them advantagious Promises. She writes to her Ambassa∣dors Letters which seem to favour the Hugonots Religion, and which allarm'd the Court of Rome; she hearkens to the Propositions made to her by the Father of Henrietta, on the behalf of the Prince of Condé. She does more, she desires the Father of Henrietta to let his Daugh∣ter be one of her Maids of Honour, and promises him to procure her a very ad∣vantagious Settlement. Gaston accepts of the Offers made to him by the Queen

with a great deal of joy, and tells her she may entirely dispose of his Daughter, and that it was absolutely necessary to break the Commerce which was be∣tween her and Octavius, and destroy the Friendship which they had contracted from their Childhood; the Queen pro∣mises every thing for the sake of the Complaisance she would shew to one of the Favourites of the Prince of Condé, and for other private ends. For she thought that she might be able to bring over to her Party those in whom so ex∣traordinary a Beauty as that of Henrietta might inspire Love. She thought also the King being just entring into an Age which would enable him to feel this Passion, it was fit to give him a M……ress, or at least an Amusement which she could dispose of, and so prevent his engaging to any other Beauty, wh••se Quality and Ambition might renew the Example of Diana Dutchess of Valentinais, who was a long time her Rival in Authority and Greatness.

The next morning Gaston brings his Daughter to the Queen; and having in∣formed her of the Intentions that Prin∣cess had in relation to Octavius, leaves

her with her, greatly surprised that the Threats of her Father, which were to remove her into the Country for ever, ended in so honourable a Retreat, as this Relation to the Court, which left her some hopes of seeing her Love some∣times, although she should not have the liberty of speaking to him. Octavius's Joy was not less, but it was soon changed by the sudden departure of his Father, who being obliged by the Or∣ders he received from the King of Na∣varr to put himself at the Head of some of his Forces to surprize a Town which was of the Hugonot Faction, was desi∣rous to have his Son with him in this Expedition, that he might instruct him in the Rudiments of War.

Whilest Octavius, who was not less valiant than handsome, signalized him∣self under his Fathers Command, Hen∣rietta shined at Court, as much for her Vertue as for her Beauty, she attracted the Eyes of all the World, and the King himself lookt upon her with an attenti∣on which made the whole Court believe that what he felt for her might in time become a true Passion.

Octavius who had gained Reputation in this last Enterprise which his Father had executed with a great deal of Vigor, came back to Paris, and brought back with him from this little Campagn, which he had made, a certain masculine and warlike Air, which with that natural Greatness which accompani∣ed his Beauty, did very much set him off. He came back by the Orders of his Father to give an account of an Expedi∣tion to the King, which the King of Navarr had entrusted him with. He made the Relation of all that had happened, with an assurance, and in terms which were beyond his Age and his Experi∣ence. The Queen who was present, heard him with pleasure, and as she made every thing of use to her own in∣terest, she thought she ought to gain a young Gentleman, who in the first tryal that way made of him, gave such great hopes of his Wit and Courage. But it was also of importance to her, not to displease the Father of Henrietta, she therefore renewed the Prohibition which she had made to Octavius not to speak to her. It is true, that to correct the severity of this Order, it was given

him in the sweetest terms, and with those flattering Promises wherewith she was wont to amuse those she thought fit to make use of.

Octavius not daring immediately to offend against the Duty which he owed to the Queen, answered exactly her In∣tentions, but finding the Court filled with the Name of Henrietta, and the noise of her Conquests, seeing her be∣sieged with a crowd of Lovers, and even distinguished by the Complaisances the King had for her, he could not hinder himself from being touched a little with Jealousie, and from mistrusting the con∣stancy of Henrietta, and he thought that he could not overcome his Mistrust, if he were not cleared, and assured of it by the mouth of his beautiful Mistress. But what way was there to approach her, without being seen in the great Light where she stood, nothing could hide him from so many Eyes, whether curious, amorous, or jealous; which notwith∣standing the violent desire he had to see Henrietta, at last made him ven∣ture to pass through.

The Queen having at last by her skill ballanced the Power of the two Parties,

and setled by this conduct her own li∣berty, and that of her Children, goes out of Paris, and carries the King to Fountain bleau, to ease her self of the importunity of both Factions.

The King who as young as he was, had skill and penetration of mind, and by the example of the most skilful and cunning Queen that ever was, had learnt the Art of Dissembling, Disguised all his thoughts of her conduct, with which he was not too well satisfied. The Partiali∣ties and the Cabals which rent the E∣state, and which the Queen kept up; this Jealousie of Authority which she would have entirely in her self, troubled him very much; but not daring to make it appear, to hide it the more, he affected a contented neglect of his Greatness, and an earnest pursuit of all sorts of Diversi∣ons. One day having prepared a magni∣ficent Hunting-match, where the Ladies were to assist on Horse-back with a most glorious Equipage, and Henrietta being of the Match, Octavius thought, being advised by a Lady that was his Friend, that his Face being handsom enough to disguise himself in Womans Cloaths, and very like a Sister of his that was at Court,

he might dress himself like the other Ladies, only desiring his Sister to hide her self the Hunting-day, to give him the opportunity of passing for her. Al∣though he was startled at the shame he should be in, if he were surprized in such a disguise, yet he was resolved to hazard every thing for this satisfaction. Being therefore thus disguised, he goes not to the general Rendezvous with the others, but stays till the Chase was begun: The Lady who accompanied him, and assist∣ed him in this Stratagem, leaving him behind in a remarkable place, puts on her Horse towards the Company there to speak with Henrietta. Having ap∣proached her, she leads her away insensi∣bly, and conducts her to the place where Octavius waited for her with impatience. So soon as she had perceived him, his disguise did not at all make him un∣known to her: At the first sight the dif∣ferent motions which were raised in her heart appeared in her Face; the surprizal of the disguise, and of so unforeseen a Meeting, the sear of having this myste∣ry discovered, and the joy of having the opportunity to converse with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Lover. Octavius whose mind was wholly possest

with the pleasure of seeing the Person he loved so near, without considering the danger of his disguise, and all the circum∣stances of so dangerous an interview, throws himself at the feet of Henrietta, and abandoning himself to all that his passion inspired him, he expresses to her the troubles which her removal from him had caused, and the disorders of an amo∣rous and a jealous heart, and at last re∣quires from her new assurances of her Constancy. Henrietta makes him some soft reproaches for his Fears and his Jea∣lousies, and says to him a hundred obli∣ging things with that charming and in∣nocent sweetness, that it fully perswa∣ded him, and affected him very nearly. Whilst they were both thus tasting the particular Joys, which commonly pri∣vate and stolen Conversations do afford to Lovers, two unknown young Gentle∣men, who were invited to the Forrest by the noise of this Hunting, having per∣ceived Octavius and Henrietta, and having taken them both for Women, were im∣mediately seized with that indiscreet cu∣riosity which commonly accompanies im∣prudent Youths. They alighted from their Horses to approach them with the

less noise, but having looked upon them nearer, they were strucken the more with their beauty. Their surprize was fol∣lowed by a violent disturbance, which was caused by a confused mixture of fear, respect and desire. Full of an impetuous and giddy passion, which place and op∣portunity had given rise to in these two young hearts, they take a resolution of undertaking any thing. Hereupon they accost our two Lovers with civility enough, but withal discovered a confi∣dence which would not stop there: Ima∣gine what astonishment Octavius and Hen∣rietta were in at so surprizing an accident; the different thoughts and motives which agitated their minds in so strange a Con∣juncture, cannot be exprest. Henrietta immediately foresees a thousand dangers for her self and her Lover, Octavius shakes too with horror and anger. After some dis∣course, wherein these unknown Sparks intermingled flat and gross praises, ac∣companied with raillery, wherein they shewed a great deal of impudence, and little breeding, one takes Henrietta by the hand, and the other Octavius telling them they must part, and make two Con∣versations by themselves, to explain

themselves with more liberty, and to taste the sweets of one to one alone. O∣ctavius provoked by this Insolence, who seemed to affect the fears of another Sex, the better to disguise his own, could no longer restrain himself; he falls upon the Sword of one of these rash Youths, and having disarmed him, attacks the other, who surprized and amazed at the cou∣rage of Octavius whom he took for a Wo∣man, did only parry in going back, but Octavius pressed him so home, that he was forced at last to defend himself. The Combat was at last bloody; in the mean while he who was without a Sword, runs to his Pistols, and returns again upon O∣ctavius, who had already dangerously wounded his Adversary. Octavius re∣ceives a Pistol-shot, which hurt him in the Arm, and without feeling his hurt, pursues his Enemy, who seeing his Com∣panion upon the ground, saves himself by flight, and loses himself in the thick∣ness of the Forrest. The noise of the Duelists, the report of the Pistol, the cares of Octavius his Friend, who having perceived from afar what passed, had called for help, drew together some of the Hunters to the place of Fight. They

found Henrietta opprest with grief and fear; one of the unknown Men, dying of his wounds, and Octavius pale and fainting with the loss of bloud, and who being less concerned for his Life than the secret of his Disguise, would have stollen from the sight and assistance of those who were come thither. The disconsolate Henrietta imploys all that the oppression and natural languishment she was under, had left her of voice and strength, to im∣plore the assistance of those who were about her for Octavius. She disguises nothing, and relates the Adventure, with the plainness which always accompanies great Griefs. All those who heard her were moved, and especially a foreign Prince who was in the service of the King of Navarr, and being present at this Spe∣ctacle, was pierced by the tears of Hen∣rietta, and having naturally a passionate and a sensible Soul. The noise of this great Accident being spread amongst all the Hunters, and being come to the ears of the King and the Queen-Mother, the King who felt some inclination for Hen∣rietta, finding the noise which the passion between her and Octavius now made, suf∣fered himself to be overcome with a jea∣lous

melancholy, notwithstanding which he knew how to dissemble, and at last had power to conquer his Resentments. The Queen was openly incensed at the rashness of Octavius, and the foreign Prince, who had been so affected with the misfortune of Henrietta, felt this pity change into another passion which was more tender and more violent. But as he had as much Generosity as Love, the first step which he made to please Henri∣etta, was to concern himself for Octavius, and to obtain his pardon from the Queen; he supposed that this service would ren∣der the design he had upon Henrietta more plausible and agreeable; he was desirous at least to diminish the grief of his Rival, and make his misfortune more supportable. He obtains therefore from the Queen Henrietta for himself, and a Pardon for Octavius, upon condition that Octavius should remove from the Court some time, for an expiation of his Fault. Octavius having with an intolerable grief heard all that had pass'd, and seeing there was nothing to be hoped for from the Queen, resolved to go unto his Ri∣val. He hoped that he should find him generous enough to be moved by his

tears, or at least if he had hard-hearted∣ness enough to keep from him Henrietta, the sense of his injustice would make him fear the fury of a desperate Lover. He comes privately to Paris, where the Court was, and having met with a fa∣vourable opportunity to speak with the Prince in private, without being over∣heard by any body, he spoke to him in such moving terms, and in so passionate a tone, that the Prince could not forbear shedding of some tears. But perceiving that he could obtain from his Rival but a useless pity, and seeing it would not pre∣vail with him to yield up Henrietta to him, My Lord, said he, with a respect∣ful grief and indignation, Would a Prince like you, who are the glory of your own Nation, and the admiration of ours, break the finest knots that Heaven and Love ever yet tyed? Would you possess Henrietta without her consent, and dis∣honour your self by so hateful a violence? Cruel Octavius, answer'd the Prince, with a little trouble, but in a modest and soft voice, Would you have me impose upon my self the most cruel of all Vio∣lences, to spare you that which you re∣proach me with? Would you have my

passion and my generosity render me the most unhappy of all men, and a little Ho∣nour cost me Troubles which will never cease? No, no, replied Octavius some∣what briskly, Henrietta is not a Jewel that can be yielded voluntarily, and she is not one which can be easily torn from my Love, much less possest against her own will. So soon as he had finished speaking, he left the Prince, without giving him time to answer. The Prince who did not doubt but that Octavius would venture a Visit to Henrietta, what danger soever he might run thereby, was resolved to be there before him, believ∣ing he might easily be so, for he did not think it was so easie for Octavius to ob∣tain leave to do it; but the diligence of Octavius was so great and so happy, that he came first to her, by reason of the Correspondence he had with a Servant which had been with her a long time. So soon as he was come to her, What do I see, cried Henrietta? do you come to ruine me by your presence, and to renew my Fears, by exposing your self afresh again to the Queens Resentment? Alas! what have I to consider, answer'd Octa∣vius, when I lose you? what Dangers do

you fear for me, when you take from me that which is dearer to me than my Life? If you speak of my Heart, replied Henrietta, and of all the tenderness of which it is capable, comfort your self Octavius; there will nothing of it be ta∣ken from you, it is and ever shall be yours, both by the gift which Heaven hath made of it to you, and by a merit which I prefer to the most cryed up For∣tunes. The Queen and my Relations may dispose of my Person, but not of my Love. Ah! replied Octavius, Such a Hus∣band as my Rival, so accomplisht a Prince, whose vertue equals his birth, being Ma∣ster of your Person, will soon be so of your Heart. I could wish it would please Heaven, said she, that I were able to change, and that the force of the duty which I owe to the Husband who shall be given to me, could break those chains which tye me to you; but I know my self too well to expect so happy a change. Separated from what I love, and indis∣pensably united with a lovely Prince whom I shall never love, I shall suffer all that can be endured by a Soul that is sen∣sible in the most violent and dismallest of conditions. All that can comfort me or

you, dear Octovius, is that the violence of my torment will hinder the duration of it; you will soon lament my Death, but you shall never have the trouble to bewail my Inconstancy. The Prince who was come to the House of Henrietta, and who had been prevented by Octavius, ha∣ving slipt behind a Skreen in her Cham∣ber, so as to hear without being seen, was so moved by this tender and sad Con∣versation, that he could not restrain that generous pity which he naturally had for the sufferings of others. No, no, said he, discovering himself, you shall not die, fair Henrietta; my passion as violent as it is, knows how to respect yours; I should deserve the just anger of Heaven, if I separated two hearts which it has so well united: The gift which has been made to me of your Person, although it be of an infinite value, cannot defend me from the cruel reproaches which I should make unto my self without intermission, if I should take you away from your Lo∣ver, and from your self; I had rather deserve you by yielding you, than pos∣sess you by making my self unworthy of you.

At these words, which were so moving and generous, what a sudden change was there made in the Souls of our Lovers! A transport of Joy and Gratitude succeeding a fatal Despair, makes them immediate∣ly throw themselves at the feet of the Prince: What do you do, said he, in raising them up? would you by this ex∣cess of joy make me feel the more the greatness of my loss? let me steal away from your thanks, and go without delay to the Queen to finish your happiness, that I may be no more in a condition of disturbing your quiet, and of re-taking the Treasure which I now yield. He goes out, speaking these last words, and after having wiped away some tears which he could not forbear, he runs to the Queen, begs of her the Pardon and Return of Octavius, and her consent to his Marriage with Henrietta. The noise of this Action of the Prince was immedi∣ately spread abroad, and he was com∣forted for the unhappiness of his Love, by the Honour which he had of overcom∣ing it, and by shewing this great Exam∣ple in a Court, where every thing was actuated by an ambitious and selfish Po∣licy.

Octavius and Henrietta were soon in∣formed of their Happiness, and the time of their Marriage soon agreed upon, which was accomplisht with a great deal of Joy and Magnificence.

FINIS.