Zayde a Spanish history, or, romance / originally written in French by Monsieur Segray ; done into English by P. Porter, Esq.

The History of Alphonso and Bellasire.

MY Lord, you know my name is Alphons•• Xymenes, and that my Family is of some esteem in Spain, being de∣scended of the first Kings of Navarre; my design being only to acquaint you with the History of my last Misfortunes, I will not trouble you with that of my whole life, al∣though there be many remarkable passages in it; but since, from that time I intend to speak of, I have been unfortunate only by the fault of other people, and not by my own, I will pass it over in silence; you shall only know that I have experimented all that the Infidelity, and the Unconstan∣cy of Women can inflict of vexatious and troublesome, in so much, that I had no stomack to be in Love with any of the Sex; the commerce of Love seemed to me the greatest punishment, and though there were many handsome Women in the Court, who might have a kindness for me, I had none for them, but only those sentiments of respect which are due to their Sex. My Father, who was yet alive, and had a great desire to see me Marryed out of that

Chimera, so ordinary to all man-kind to propagate their name. I was not utterly averse to Marriage, but the knowledge I had of Women, made me resolve never to Marry a handsome one; and having been so much perplexed by Jealousie, I was not willing to expose my self to the hazard of being plagued with that of a Lover and a Husband together. I was in this dispositi∣on, when one day my Father told me that Belasire, the Daughter of the Count of Gueuarre was come to Court, that she was a considerable Match both by Birth and Fortune, and he did heartily wish to have her for his Daughter-in-Law: I told him, his wish was vain; that I had already heard speak of Belasire, and that I knew none could ever please her yet; that I knew like∣wise that she was very handsome, and that was enough to take from me all inclination to Marry her. He asked me if I had seen her: I answered him, that every time she had been at Court, it was my Fortune to be in the Army, that I knew her only by hear-say. Very well (replyed my Father) if I were as sure that you would be accep∣table to her, as I am perswaded that she will make you change your resolution of never Marrying a handsome Woman, I should not doubt of your Marriage. Some

few dayes after, I found Bellasire with the Queen; I asked her name, suspecting it might be she; and she asked my name, believing also me to be Alphonso. We both guessed what we inquired after, and we told one another so; we spoke to one another with more freedom than we should have done, or then is usual in the first Con∣versation: I found the person of Bellasire very charming, and her Witt far beyond what I thought it. I told her I was out of Countenance not to be better acquainted with her, and for all that, that I should be glad to know her no more than I did; that I was not ignorant how vain it was to en∣deavour to please her, and how hard a mat∣ter it was not to desire it. I added, that as difficult a thing as it was to make her sensible, I could not refrain from forming the design; if she ceased to be less hand∣some, but that while she was as I then saw her, I would never think more of her; nay more, I prayed her to assure me that it was impossible to please her, fearing least a vain expectation should make me change the re∣solution I had taken, never to ingage my self in affection to any handsome Woman. This Conversation that was something ex∣traordinary, pleased Bellasire; she spoke fa∣vourably enough of me, and I spoke of her

as of a person in whom I found so much me∣rit, and so much agreeableness above all o∣ther Women: I made stricter inquiry after all those that had made their addresses to her, with more application than ordinary: I learnt that the Count of Lare was desperatly in Love with her, and that his passion to her lasted a long time; that he was kill'd in the Army; that he run headlong into dangers when he had lost all hope of Marrying her: I was told moreover, that many other persons had en∣deavoured to win her favour, but to no pur∣pose; and that all people had given her o∣ver, because they thought it an impossible thing to thrive in their pursuit. I took no small delight in thinking of overcoming this impossibility; and for all that I had no design to endeavour it. But I saw Bella∣sire as often as I could possible; and as the Court of Navar is not so strict as that of Leon, it was not hard for me to find occa∣sions of seeing her, and yet there was no∣thing of seriousness betwixt her and me: I spoke to her, laughing at the distance that we were at, and of the joy I should have, if she would change her face and her opini∣on: I imagined that my Conversation was not unpleasant to her, and that she was sa∣tisfied with my Wit, because she found I knew the depth of hers: Finding she had a

Confidence in me, that gave me full liber∣ty to speak to her; I prayed her to tell me the reasons why she did so obstinately re∣ject all those that made their addresses to her. I will tell you sincerely (said she): I was born with a natural aversion against Mar∣riage, the tyes whereof have alwayes seem∣ed to me very harsh, and I believed that nothing but a passion strong enough to blind me, could make me tread underfoot all those reasons that seem to oppose that engagement. You will not Marry for Love (said she) and for my part, I cannot com∣prehend how any can resolve to Marry with∣out Love, and that a very violent one; far from having a passion, I never had the least inclination for any Man. So that, Al∣phonso, if I am not Marryed, it is because I never Loved any Man well enough to en∣gage me to it. How Madam (Answered I) no man ever pleased you? Your heart has never received any impression, it has never been discomposed at the sight or mention of those that adored you? No (said she) I am utterly a Stranger to all the impulses of Love: How! And of Jealousie too, said I? I, and of Jealousie too, replyed she. Ah Madam (said I) if that be, I am perswaded that you never had any inclina∣tion for any Man. It is true (said she) that

no man ever pleased me; no, I never found any bodyes humour agreeable, or any way like my own: I know not what effects the words of Bellasire wrought upon me; I know not whether I was already in Love without knowing it: But the Idea of a heart like hers, that never received any impressi∣on, seemed so wonderful, and so new to me, that I was in that very instant struck with a desire to please her, to gain the glo∣ry of touching a heart that all the world believed insensible. I was no longer that Man that begun to speak without design: I ruminated upon all that she had said, and believed that at the same time she told me she never found Man that could please her; she excepted me. In fine, I had hope e∣nough to compleat my intanglement, and from that moment I became more in Love with Bellasire than ever I had been with a∣ny before: I will not repeat to you how I took the freedom to declare my passion to her; I began to speak to her by a kind of Rallery, for it was hard to talk seriously to her; and this Rallery gave me occasion to tell her things that I should not have durst to tell of a long time, so that I was in Love with Bellasire, and was happy enough to touch her heart, though not so happy as to be able to perswade her that I Lov'd

her: She was naturally diffident of all Man∣kind, though she considered me far above all those that she had ever seen, and by consequence, more than I deserved, yet she would not give credit to my words; but her manner of proceeding with me, was different from that of all other Women, and I found something so noble and so sin∣cere in her ways, that I was altogether surprised at it: It was not long e're she confessed to me the inclination she had for me; she would tell me from time to time what progress I made in her heart; and as she concealed nothing from me that was for my advange, so likewise she told me what was against me; she would say, that she could not believe that I Loved Cordi∣ally, and that she would never consent to Marry me untill she was better satisfied of my Love: I cannot express the pleasure I took in finding that I had made an im∣pression upon a heart that never was sensi∣ble of any before; and to see the confusion she was in, to find her self ingaged in a passion, which till then, was altogether un∣known to her: how charming it was to me to know the astonishment Bellasire was in being no longer Mistress of her self, nor having any more power over her own thoughts. I tasted in these beginnings de∣lights

beyond my hope or imagination; and he that has not known the delight of making a person violently in Love with him, that has never been sensible of Love, may say she never knew the true pleasures of Love. If I had great transports of pleasure to find out the inclination Bellasire had for me, I was also in terrible anxieties for the doubt she was in of my passion for her, and the impossibility I saw of perswading her to believe it.

When these thoughts disturbed me, I re∣call'd to mind the opinion I had of Wed∣lock, I found I was going to precipitate my self into the misfortunes which I so much apprehended: I thought I should have the affliction of not being capable of assu∣ring Bellasire of the passion I had for her, or that if I did convince her, and that she should be truly in Love with me, I should be exposed to the Misfortune of being no more beloved passionately. I said to my self, that Wedlock would diminish the pas∣sion she had for me, and that she would love me no more than as far as duty re∣quired, and that perhaps she would Love some body else: The horror of being Jea∣lous was so impetuous upon me, that not∣withstanding the esteem and passion I had for her, I had almost resolved to quit the

resolution I had taken; and I preferr'd the Misfortune of living without Bellasire be∣fore that of enjoying her without being be∣loved of her. Bellasire's thoughts were al∣most as distracted as mine, she concealed nothing from me, no more than I did from her; we debated the reasons we had, not to engage one anothers Affections; we several times resolved to break off, and we took leave of one another, with intention to exe∣cute our resolutions, but our Adieus were so tender, and our inclinations so strong, that we were no sooner out of one anothers sight, but we were contriving how to see one another again. In fine, after many ir∣resolutions on both sides, I at last over∣come all Bellasires doubts, and she clear'd all mine; she promis'd to consent to our Marriage as soon as our Friends had agreed upon all things that was requisite for the consummating thereof: Her Father was forc'd to leave the Court before all things were concluded, for the King commanded him a∣way to the Frontires to sign a Treaty with the Mores, and we were forc'd to wait his coming back: I was in the mean time the happiest Man in the World; the Love I bore Bellasire, took up all my thoughts, and she loved me as passionately: I esteem∣ed her beyond all the Women in the world,

and believed my self upon the point of pos∣sessing her.

I enjoyed all the freedom that a Man that was soon to Marry her could take. One day it was my Misfortune to pray her to tell me all that her Lovers had done for her: I took delight to observe the diffe∣rence betwixt her manner of proceeding with them, and that she used with me. She named me all those that Loved her, she told me what they had done to please her; she said that those that were most constant in their pursuit, were those she least cared for; and that the Count of Lare, who Loved her to his death, was never accep∣table to her. After what she had told me, (I know not for what reason) but I had a greater curiosity to know what concern'd the Count de Lare than all the rest; his long perseverance touch'd my imagination: I pray'd her once more to repeat what passed betwixt them; she did so, and though she said nothing that could displease me, I was seized with a Jealousie; I found, that although she had shewed no inclination, she had shewed a great deal of esteem for him; a suspicion took me in the head, that she did not tell me all the sentiments she had for him; I would not let her know what I thought, but retired home in a worse hu∣mour

than I used to be; I slept little, I could not rest untill I saw her again the next day, and made her tell over again all she had told me the day before, it was not pos∣sible for her to tell me in an instant all the circumstances of a Passion that had lasted many years; she told me some things that she had not thought on before, and I be∣lieved she did it out of design of concealing them from me: I asked her a thousand questions, and I beg'd of her upon my knees to answer me with sincerity; but when, what she answered was as I would have it, I thought she said it only to please me; if she said any thing that was advantagious for the Count of Lare, I thought she con∣cealed more than she would tell of him: In sine, Jealousie, with all the horrors that accompany it, seized upon my understan∣ding; I afforded her no rest, I could no longer shew her either love or kindness; I could speak of nothing to her, but of the Count of Lare, and yet I was out of my Wits for making her remember him, and recall to mind what he had done for her sake; I resolved never more to speak to her of him, but I alwayes found that I had forgotten to make her explain her self upon some circumstance or other. As soon as I had begun this discourse, I was as it were

in a maze, I could never get out of it, and my affliction was equally great in speaking of the Count de Lare, or not speaking of him.

I passed whole Nights without sleep, Bel∣lasire was no more to me the same person: How, said I, what was the charm of my passion? Was it not the belief I had that Bellasire never lov'd any thing, nor never had Inclination for any body? And yet by what she tells me her self, she had no aver∣sion for the Count de Lare, she had too much esteem for him, and she used him with too much respect: If she had not been in Love with him, she would have hated him for the long Persecutions that he and his Friends raised against her. No Bella∣sire, you have deceived me, you were not such as I believed you; I adored you as one that had never loved any thing, that was the foundation of my Love. I find no such thing, it is just therefore I recall all the Love I had for you: But, said I to my self again, If she had told me truth, what a notorious injustice do I do her? And how much I plague my self in robbing my self of all the happiness I enjoyed in her Love.

While I was in these thoughts, I resolved to speak once more to Bellasire; I believed I should tell her better what grieved me, and

should satisfie my self in all doubts more clearly than ever: I did what I resolv'd; I spoke to her, but it was not for the last time, and the next day I took up the same discourse with more heat than I had done the day before: But Bellasire, who thither∣to, with a most unwearied patience, and wonderful sweetness, had endured all my suspicions, and had endeavoured to clear them, begun to be tired with the continu∣ance of a Jealousie so violent and so ill∣grounded.

Alphonso (said she, one day to me) I perceive you have got a Capricio in your head that will destroy the passion you had for me; but know, at the same time that it will inevitably ruine the Love I had for you. Consider, I beseech you, about what it is that you torment me and your self too about a dead Man whom you cannot fancy that I Lov'd since I did not Marry him; for if I had had but the least inclination for him, my Parents would have Marryed me to him, for there was nothing else that could hinder it. It is true Madam, that I am Jealous of a dead Man, and that is it that breaks my heart: If the Count of Lare were yet living, I should judge by your manner of usage to him, how you did use him formerly; and what you do for me

would convince me that you did not Love him; I should have the pleasure in Marry∣ing you, to deprive him of the hopes you have given him, notwithstanding all you can tell me; but he is dead, and dyed per∣haps in an opinion, that if he had lived, you might have loved him. Ah Madam, I cannot but be unhappy every time I shall think that any other but my self could fancy that you could Love him. But Alphonso (said she) if I had Lov'd, why did not I Marry then? Because (answered I) you did not love him enough, and that the aversion you had for Marriage, could not be overcome by a weak Inclination. I know you love me much better than ever you loved the Count of Lare; but let your love for him have been never so little, it has destroyed all my happiness, since I am no more the only Man that has pleased you, nor am not the first that has made you sensible of Love; your heart has been fill'd with other thoughts than those I supplyed: In a word, Madam, it is no more what made me the happiest Man in the World, neither are you to me of that value I first set upon you. Pray tell me, Alphonso, how you could live at ease with those you formerly were in Love with all? I would fain know whether you found in them a heart that never be∣fore

had felt any passion: I never sought for any such, Madam, said I, nor did I ever hope to find any; I never looked upon them as Women that could love nothing else but me; I was satisfied to believe that they loved me far beyond all others that they had had any Inclination for: But for you, Madam, it is not the same, I always look∣ed upon you as one that was above the reach of Love, and who would never have known what it was, had it not been for me. I thought my self not only happy, but proud to have been able to make so extra∣ordinary a Conquest: For pitty sake leave me not in the uncertainty in which I am; if you have concealed any thing from me concerning the Count de Lare, confess it; the owning it, and your sincerity will perhaps, lessen the trouble which I may conceive for it: Clear my suspicions, and do not let me set a higher value upon you than I ought, or a less than you deserve. Bellasire made answer, If you had not lost your senses, you would easily judge that since I did not perswade you, I would ne∣ver go about it; but if I could add any thing to what I have already told you, it would be an infallible sign that I never had any inclination for the Count of Lare, being I say I had not. If I had loved him,

nothing should make me deny it; I should believe my self guilty of a hainous Crime if I should renounce any kindness I might have for a dead man who had deserved it; so that you may be assured, Alphonso, that I never had any that may displease. Con∣vince me then of it, Madam, cryed I, tell it me a thousand times over, write it to me; In fine, restore me again to the pleasure of loving you as I did, and above all, pardon me the vexation I give you; I torment my self more than I do you, and if I could re∣deem my self out of the state I am in, I would do it at the hazard of my life.

These last words made an impression upon Bellasire, she clearly saw I was not Master of my senses; she promised me to write down all that ever she thought or did for the Count de Lare; and though they were things that she had already told me a thou∣sand times, yet I felt a certain pleasure to think that I should see them written with her own hand. The next day she sent me what she promis'd, I found an exact Nar∣rative of all that the Count of Lare had done for her, and all she did to cure him of his passion, with all the reasons that might perswade me to believe what she al∣ledged to be true. This Narrative was made after a manner that ought to have

cur'd me of all my Caprichio's, but is wrought a contrary effect upon me: I be∣gun with being angry with my self, for having forced Bellasire to spend so much time in thinking of the Count de Lare: Those parts of her Narrative, where she par∣ticularised his actions, were insupportable to me; I thought she had too good a memo∣ry for the actions of a man that was indif∣ferent to her; those which she related cur∣sorily, perswaded me that there was some∣thing more behind which she durst not own to me. In fine, I made a bad construction of all, and came to see Bellasire more en∣raged and more desperate than ever: She, that well knew I ought to be very well sa∣tisfied, was much offended to see me so un∣just, which she made me understand with more force than she used to do. I, on the other side (as angry as I was) began to ex∣cuse my self as well as I could; I saw I was in the wrong, but it was not in my power to be in a right sense: I told her that my extream nicety in what she might have thought of the Count de Lare was a true mark of the great passion and esteem I had for her, and that the great value I set upon her heart, made me so apprehen∣sive of any body else having a share in it; I said all I could think of to make my Jea∣lousie

more excusable. Bellasire would not admit of my reasons; she told me that slight doubts might arise from what I had told her, but such a long and obstinate Jealousie could be produced from nothing else, but from an ill humour, insomuch that she began to be apprehensive of living with me, and that if I continued in this manner, she should be forced to change her opinion. These Words made me tremble, I threw my self at her feet, I assured her I would never more speak to her of my suspicions; and I be∣lieved within my self, that I should be able to be as good as my promise; but it was for a few dayes only, I quickly begun again to vex her, I often ask'd her pardon, and as often made her think that I still believed she had loved the Count of Lare, and that this thought would render me eternally un∣happy.

I had a long Friendship with a man of quality, called Don Mauriques, he was a Man of extraordinary merit; the tyes that were betwixt us, had created a great confidence betwixt Bellasire and him, their amity was never displeasing to me, nay, I took plea∣sure in making it greater; he took notice several times of the ill humour I had been in of late. Though I concealed nothing from him, I was so much ashamed of my

Caprichio, that I durst not own it to him: He came one day to visit Bellasire, where I was more unreasonable than ever, and she more weary of my Jealousie than she used. Don Mauriques knew by the changing of our Countenances, that we had some little qua∣rel. I always begged of Bellasire never to tell him of my weakness, and pray'd her a∣gain, as I saw him enter, to say nothing of it; but she was resolved to put me out of Countenance, and without giving me time to oppose her, she told Don Mauriques all the cause of my disquiet; he seemed to be so astonished at it, he found it so ill groun∣ed, and he handled me so severely for it, that he put me quite besides my self: You shall be Judge Sir, whether I was not mad, and how prone I was to Jealousie; for it seemed to me that Don Mauriques, after the manner he condemned me, was pre∣possess'd by Bellasire: I perceived well enough, that I passed the limits of reason; but I could not believe that he would be so severe in his Condemnation, unless he were in Love with Bellasire. I fancied then that Don Mauriques had been so a great while, and that I seemed too happy to him for being beloved by her, that he did not think I ought to complain, though she had loved another. I believed likewise that

Bellasire her self perceived that Don Mau∣riques had more than an ordinary Friend∣ship for her. I fancied she was glad to be adored (as all Women for the most part are) and without suspecting her of Infide∣lity; I was Jealous of the Friendship which she had for a Man whom she believed her Lover. Bellasire and Don Mauriques seeing me thus distracted, were far from imagin∣ing what caused the disorder of my mind; they endeavonred with all the industry they could, to bring me to my self again, but their discourses rather aggravated my vexa∣tion. I left them, and when I was alone I represented to my self this new Misfortune, which I fancy'd far beyond the other; I found then my want of reason in appre∣hending danger from a Man that was no more in a condition to do me any harm. I found Don Mauriques every way a for∣midable Man, he was handsome; Bellasire had a great esteem and frienship for him, she used to see him often; she was weary of my ill humours and Caprichios, and me thought she was glad to make her self mer∣ry with him upon my score; that she would insensibly give him the place which I held in her Love; to say all, I was now more Jealous of Don Mauriques than I had been

before of the Count of Lare. I knew he had been in Love with another Lady a great while; but this Lady was in all things so far inferiour to Bellasire, that his passion for her was no security to me. However, as my genious would not utterly abandon me so to my Caprice, but that there re∣mained to me still, Witt enough to keep me in suspence; I was not so unjust, as to be∣lieve that Don Mauriques endeavoured in any wise to defeat me of Bellasire: I fanci∣ed he fell in Love with her unknown to himself, and without desiring to be so, and that he strove to resist his passion, because of the friendship that was betwixt us, and that although he said nothing of it to Bel∣lasire, yet he gave her to understand that he Loved her without hoping a return. I thought I had no reason to complain of Don Mauriques, since I believed it was for my sake he forbore to declare his passion. In fine, as I was Jealous of a dead Man without knowing why, so likewise I was Jealous of my Friend, and believed him my Rival, without thinking that I had cause to be angry with him. It were in vain to tell you what I suffer'd by such extravagant thoughts, being it is easie to imagine it: When I met Don Mauriques, I excused my

self for concealing from him the disquiet the business of the Count of Lare had cre∣ated me, but told him nothing of my new Jealousie; nor to Bellasire, fearing least, if she knew it, she should utterly forsake me. Being alwayes perswaded that she still Lov∣ed me very much, I believed if I could com∣mand my passion, and keep my self within the bounds of Reason, she would not leave me for Don Ramires, so that the interest of my Jealousie oblig'd me to conceal it: I begged Bellasires pardon, and assured her that I had perfectly recover'd my right senses; she was glad to see me in that opinion at least, though the perfect knowledge she had of my humour, made her easily per∣ceive that I was not so calme within as I outwardly seemed to be.

Don Mauriques continued his visits to her as he used to do, and somewhat more fre∣quently, by reason of the freedom they used to one another in discoursing of my Jealou∣sie. Bellasire having taken notice that I was offended at her for telling him of it, took care to speak no more of it in my presence; but if she saw me in an ill hu∣mour, she would complain to him, and pray him to help her to cure me. It was my ill Fate to take notice two or three times that she broke off her discourse with Don

Mauriques, at my coming into the Room; you may judge what such a thing would produce in a head as jealous as mine: For all this, I found Bellasire so kind to me, and seemed so glad as often as she saw me in a good humour, that I could not believe that she loved Don Mauriques so passionate∣ly as to hold a correspondence with him; neither could I fancy that Don Mauriques ever had a design to engage her to him, since I saw all his care was to hinder us from falling out; so that I could not well find out what their thoughts were for one another; many times I did not know my own; so in a word, I was the wretchedest of all Man-kind. Upon a time, as I came into the Room, she was whispering some∣thing to Don Mauriques, but so, as if she would not have me percieve that she spoke to him. I remembred then that she threat∣ned me several times, when I persecuted her about the Count of Lare, to make me jealous of a living Man, to cure me of that I had of the dead; I believed it was to make good that promise, that she used Don Mau∣riques so kindly; and let me take notice, that there was a secret correspondence betwixt them. This opinion lessen'd my trouble, and made me forbear for some dayes to

speak to her of it; but at last, I resolv'd to declare my mind.

I went to see her with this resolution, and casting my self down at her feet, I said to her, I confess Madam that the de∣sign you had to afflict me, has had the suc∣cess you expected: you have given me all the disquiet you can wish; you have made me feel, as you have promis'd, that the jealousie which is conceived of the living, is much more cruel than any we can have of the dead. I deserved to be punished for my solly, and you have done it suffici∣ently: If you did but know how I have been tormented for those very things which I believed you did of purpose, you would quickly see that you may make me unhap∣py when you please to go about it: What would you say, Alphonso said she? You fancy, I design'd to make you Jealous; do not you know that I have been too much afflicted for that you had against my will, to desire you should be any more so? Ah! Madam (said I) leave tormenting me, once more I tell you, I have suffer'd enough; and though I saw that your manner of conversing with Don Ramires, was only to execute the promise you made me, for all that, it was to me a most sensible affliction:

Alphonso, replyed Bellasire, either you are out of your Wits, or else you have a de∣sign to torment me; you shall never per∣swade me that I ever intended to create you the least Jealousie, nor shall you convince me that you could have any. I would have you, added she, looking upon me, after having been Jealous of a dead Man whom I never loved, to be Jealous of a living Man that does not love me. How, Madam, said I, you had no intention to make me Jealous of Don Mauriques; you only plain∣ly follow your inclination in doing what you do; was it not to give me cause of suspi∣cion, your leaving of whispering to him, or changing your discourse when I come into the Room? Ah Madam, if that be so, I am more unhappy than I thought my self; nay, I am the most unfortunate of all Man-kind. You are not the most unhappy (replyed Bellasire) but the most unreasonable of all Man-kind; and if I should follow the dictates of reason, I should break off with you this very moment, and never see you more: But is it possible, Alphonso, added she, that you can be Jealous of Don Mauriques? How can I be otherwise, Madam, said I, when you keep a correspondence with him which I must not know. I conceal it from you,

said she, because you were angry when I spoke to him of your strange imaginations; and that I had no mind you should know that I spoke to him still of your ill hu∣mours, and of the dissatisfaction I receive from them. How Madam (said I) you complain of my humours to my Rival, and you think ill of me for being troubled at it? I com∣plain to your Friend (said she) and not to your Rival. Don Mauriques is my Rival (replyed I) and I cannot think that you can avoid acknowledging it; and I (said she) cannot believe you dare tell me he is so, knowing as you do, that he spends whole dayes in praising you to me. It is very true (said I) that I do not suspect that Don Mau∣riques does any way endeavour to under∣mine me; but that does not hinder but he may be in Love with you; nay more, I do believe he never yet spoke to you of his Love; but after the manner you use him, he will not be long before he speaks to you of it, and the hopes that your pro∣ceedings give him, will make him without scruple of Conscience pass over all the tyes and obligations of the Friendship that was betwixt us. Can any Man be so void of rea∣son as you are, answer'd Bellasire? Mark well your own words, you tell me Don Mauriques

speaks for you to me, that he is in Love with me, and that he does not speak to me for himself; where will you find things so contradictory? Is it not true, that you be∣lieve I love you, and that you are con∣vinced Don Mauriques does so too? It is very true, answered I, that I believe both the one and the other. If you believe it, cryed she, how can you imagin that I can love you and love Don Mauriques too? Or that Don Mauriques can be in love with me, and love you still? Alphonso, I am infinite∣ly troubled to find the disorders of your mind to be so exorbitant; I now perceive your disease is incurable, and that in re∣solving to Marry you, I must at the same time resolve to be the most miserable Wo∣man of the world. Assuredly I love you very much, but not so much as to purchase you at so dear a rate; the Jealousie of Lo∣vers is troublesome, but the Jealousie of Husbands is insupportable; you make me so plainly see what I am like to suffer, that I believe I shall never be Marryed to you: I love you too well not to be sensibly af∣flicted to see that I shall not (as I hoped) spend my dayes with you. Leave me alone I conjure you, your words and your sight do but increase my sorrow.

At these words she rose without giving me time to answer, and went to her Closet, and lockt the door, which she would not o∣pen upon no intreaty. I was forced to go home so desperate, and so irresolved in my own thoughts, that I wonder I did not run out of the little wit I had left me: I came next day to see Bellasire, whom I found sad and afflicted; she spoke to me without any manner of sharpness, nay, with great sweetness, but without saying any thing that might make me apprehend that she would abandon me; I thought she studyed whether she should or no, as we easily flatter our selves, I believed she would not remain long in the mind she was in: I asked her pardon for my folly as I had done a hun∣dred times before; I prayed her to say no∣thing to Don Mauriques; I Conjured her upon my knees to change her conduct with him, and not to treat him for the future so well as to give me disquiet of mind. I will not tell Don Mauriques (said she) any thing of your folly, but I will alter nothing of my way of living with him; if I thought he Lov'd me, I would never see him more, though you had never been concerned at it, but he has only a Friendship for me; nay more, you know he loves else-where; I esteem him, I love him, you have consented

I should; therefore the disquiet you receive upon his score, proceeds from your folly and disorder of mind: If I should satisfie you, you would quickly pick a quarrel with me upon some other Mans account, as you do upon his; therefore do not vex your self about my conduct with him; for assuredly, I shall not change it. I am willing to be∣lieve (said I) that all you say is true, and that you do not believe that Don Mauriques loves you; but I believe it Madam, and that's enough; I know you have only a Friendship for him, but it is a Friendship so tender, so full of confidence, esteem and liking, that although it should never rise to the heighth of a passion, yet I have reason to be jealous of it, and to apprehend that it may too much affect your heart: The re∣fusal you make of altering your way of pro∣ceeding with him, gives me to understand that I do not fear him without cause. To shew you (said she) that the refusal I make you, does not concern Don Mauriques, but your Caprice only; if you desired me not to see the Man of the world which is most despicable to me, I would deny it you, as I do, to leave off having a Friendship for Don Mauriques. I believe you Madam (said I) but I am not Jealous of the Man of the world you despise most; it is of a Man,

whom you love well enough to prefer him before my quiet; I neither suspect you of weakness or change, but I must confess I cannot suffer that your heart should enter∣tain any kindness for any man but my self; I am grieved also that you do not hate Don Mauriques, though you know he loves you, and I think it belongs to me alone to have the advantage over all others to love you without being hated, so that you must grant my request without being offended at my Jealousie. I said all I could think of, to induce her to grant what I desire, but all to no purpose.

Though I had been a long time Jealous of Don Mauriques, yet I had so much power over my passion, as to hide it from him; and Bellasire was so discreet, as to say no∣thing to him of it; but made him believe that my Chagrin was still caused by the Jealousie I had of the Count of Lare; not∣withstanding, she held on in her old way of entertaining Don Mauriques; and he being ignorant of my thoughts of him, conversed still with her as he used to do, so that my Jealousie increased daily, and was grown to that height, that I persecuted Bellasire without intermission.

After I had thus persecuted her a long time, and that this fair Creature had in

vain tryed all wayes to cure me of my Caprice: She fell sick, and was so ill, that for two dayes I could not be admitted to see her; the third day she sent for me, I found her much alter'd, but I thought that was caused by her indisposition: She made me sit down near a pallet Bed on which she lay; and having been silent for a good while, Alponso (said she) I believe you have perceived easily this good while, that I have been endeavouring to resolve absolute∣ly to break off with you; yet for all I had many convincing reasons to induce me to it, I do not believe I should be able ever to do it, if you had not given me strength by the strange extravagancies of your pro∣ceedings. If this extravagancy were not so great, and that I could believe it were possible to cure you of it by a discreet be∣haviour, or the austerest way of living, my for you was strong enough to make me embrace it with joy; but since I see that this disorder of your understanding is incurable, and that although you have no cause of being troubled, you fancy things that never were, nor ever will be, I am forced for your peace and mine, to let you know that I absolutely resolved to break off with you, and never to Marry you. I do tell you moreover, this time, which shall be

the last that we shall have any particular converse together, that I never had any in∣clination for any man but for your self, and you alone were capable of making me in Love. But since you have confirmed me in the opinion I have, that none can be happy that is in Love with any man: You, whom I thought the only man worthy of Love, may be assured, that I will never be in Love with any Man more; and that those impressions which you have made in my heart, have been the only, and shall be the last it shall ever receive; nor would I have you believe that I have too much Friend∣ship for Don Mauriques, I refused to change my conduct with him, to see if you would not recover your right senses again, and to give my self room to bestow my self upon you once more, being once assured that your distemper was capable of being cured; but I was not so happy, and this was the only reason that kept me from giving you that satisfaction: This reason being no more, I do sacrifice Don Mauriques to your desire, and therefore have prayed him never to see me more: I ask you pardon for telling him of your Jealousie, for I could not avoid it, and he would have found it out himself by the rupture betwixt us. My Father ar∣rived last night, I acquainted him with my

resolution, he is gone at my request to in∣form your Father of it; so that, Alphonso, you must think no more of making me change this resolve: I have told Don Mauriques, what was requisite to strengthen my reso∣lution before I told you of it; I have de∣ferr'd it as much as I could, more perhaps for the love of my self, than for the love of you; and believe it, none shall ever be so absolutely, nor so faithfully beloved as you have been.

I know not whether Bellasire continued her discourse, but as my surprise was so great from the time she begun, that I had not power to interrupt her; so all my strength left me at those last words which I told you, and swooned away: I know not what Bellasire or her Servants did, but when I came to my self, I found my self in my Bed, and Don Mauriques by me, as much in despair as I was.

When all the Servants were with-drawn, he omitted nothing that might justifie him against all the suspicions I had of him, and that might show me how much he was af∣flicted for being the innocent cause of my Misfortune: As he had a great Love for me, so likewise he had a great feeling of my condition; I fell desperately ill; I then, (but too late) found out the injuries I did

my Friend; I conjured him to pardon me, and to visit Bellasire to beg for pardon for me, and to endeavour to pacifie her. Don Mauriques went to her House, but was told she was not to be seen; he went every day while my sickness lasted, but to no purpose; as soon as I was able, I went thither my self, but I had the same answer: The se∣cond time I came, one of her Women came and told me from her, that I should come no more thither, for she would not see me. I was in despair when I saw no more hopes of seeing Bellasire; yet I alwayes believed that the strong passion which she had for me, would make her return again if ever I had but the opportunity to speak to her once more: But seeing she would not con∣sent to speak to me, I lost all hope; I must confess, that to hope no more to possess Bellasire, was a most cruel pain to one that was so near it, and lov'd her so passionate∣ly. I sought all wayes to see her, she a∣voided me as carefully, and lived so re∣tired, that it was altogether impossible for me to see her.

All the content I had, was to go and pass whole Nights under her Window, but I could not obtain so much as the satisfaction of see∣ing them open. I believed one night, as I came there to hear them open, the next Night

I fancied the same thing. In fine, I flatte∣red my self with the thought that Bellasire had a Curiosity to see me, without being seen; and that she came to her Window when she heard me going away. I resolved to feign as if I were going away, and to return abru••tly again, to see if she would not appear; I did so: I went to the end of the Street, as if I were going away, and I heard the Window open distinctly: I came back again presently; I thought I perceived Bellasire: but in coming nearer saw, a Man creeping close to the Wall under her Win∣dow, as if he would hide himself: I thought, I knew not how, in spight of the Dark∣ness, that it was Don Mauriques; this thought put me quite out of frame, I presently Imagined that Bellasire lov'd him; that he was there to speak to her, that she open'd her Windows for him; to be short, I believed Don Mauriques had gained Bellasire from me: In the fury I was in, I drew my Sword, and we began to fight with a great deal of heat. I found I had wounded him in two places, but he still defended himself; at the Noise we made, or else by Bellasire Or∣der, people came out to separate us. Don Mauriques knew me by the light of the flam∣beus, he went back two or three stepps, I steppt forward to take his Sword from him;

but he let fall the point, and told me with a feeble Voice, is it you Alphonso? And is it possible that I have been so unfortunate as to fight against you? Yes Traytor, said I, and it is I that will pluck out this Heart, for Robbing me of Bellasire, you pass the Nights at her Window, while they are kept shut for me. Don Mauriques, who was lean∣ing against the Wall (supported by some that stood about him) being he could not well stand, looking upon me with Eyes full of Tears, said, I am unfortunate allways in Crea∣ting your discontent; the cruelty of my Desti∣ny is some consolation to me for the Death you give. I die said he, and the condition I am in, ought to perswade the Truth of my last words; I swear unto you, that I ne∣ver had a thought for Bellasire that could displease you; the love I have for another, and which I have not concealed from you, carried me abroad this Night; I be∣lieved I was watched and dog'd; I walk∣ed very fast, I run through several streets, till at last I stopt in the place where you found me without knowing that it was Bel∣lasire's House: This is the Truth, my dear Alphonso, I conjure you not to be troubled at my Death; I forgive you with all my heart, he continued stretching out his Arms to embrace me: at this he lost his Sence,

and fell dead upon those that held him up.

I want words, my Lord, to express the state I was in, and the Rage I had against my self; I was twenty times upon the point of running my self through, then especially when I saw Don Maurques expiring. They drew me away from him; the Count of Gua∣varre Father to Bellasire, who came out, hearing Don Mauriques, and my Name carried me home and put me into my Fathers Hands. They would not leave me alone by reason of the Fury I was in, but their care had been fruitless, if my Religion had left me the liberty of killing my self. The grief I knew Bellasire was in for the accident that hapned upon her score, and the noise it made in the Court, made me mad. When I consider'd that all the afflictions she had, and all the torments I indured, befell all through my fault, I was in a fury that cannot be ex∣pressed. The Count of Guavarre who still retained a great friendship for me, came ve∣ry often to see me, and attributed the noise and bustle I had made, to the extremity of my passion for his Daughter. I under∣stood by him, that she was not to be paci∣fied, and that her grief exceeded the bounds of reason: I was too well acquainted with her humour, and her extream tenderness of

her reputation, not to know without being told, all that she could feel for so unhappy an accident. Some dayes after this misad∣venture, they told me there was a Gentle∣man from Bellasire that desired to speak to me from her: I was transported at the name of Bellasire, who was so dear to me; I bid him be call'd in, he gave me a Letter, where∣in I read these words.

A Letter from Bellasire to Alphonso.

OUr separation has made the world so un∣supportable to me, that I could no lon∣ger live in it with any content, and that late Accident gave so deep a wound to my Repu∣tation, that I cannot stay in it without dis∣honour. I will withdraw my self unto a re∣treat, where I shall not be forced to bear the shame of hearing the divers descants that shall be made upon me; those which you made, have occasioned all my misfortunes, and yet I could not resolve to leave the world without taking my leave of you, and without acknow∣ledging to you that I love you still, as Brutal as you are; the inclination I had for you, and the remembrance of yours for me, will be the first Sacrifice I shall offer up to God when I

give my self to him; the Austerities of the life I am going to lead, will seem easie to me, for nothing can be tedious to one that has felt the smart of tearing her self away from what passionately loved her, and she loved above all things. I will own further, that no other way of living could secure me against the in∣clination which I have for you; and that since our separation, you never came to that fatal place where you committed such violence, but I was ready to speak to you, and tell you that I could not live without you; I am not cer∣tain whether I had not told it you that very Night that you assaulted Don Mauriques, and gavest me new Testimonies of those suspicions which caused all our Misfortunes. Fare well Alphonso, remember me sometimes, and wish for my quiet, that I may never remember you.

There was nothing wanting to compleat my Misfortunes, but to be assured that Bel∣lasire loved me still, and that happily she had bestowed her self upon me again, if she had not been hindered by my own extrava∣gancy; and that the same Accident that made me Kill my best Friend, made me loose my Mistress too, and forced her to render her self unhappy all the rest of her dayes.

I asked him that brought me the Letter, where Bellasire was; he told me he had conducted her unto a Convent of Nuns, of a very strict Order, which came out of France lately; and that as she entred, she gave him a Letter for her-Father, and a∣nother for me; I ran to this Monastery, I desired I might see her, but in vain: I met the Count of Guavarrc comeing out from thence; all his Authority, and his Intrea∣ties to change her resolution, were to no purpose, she took upon her the habit a lit∣tle after: During her year of probation, her Father and I used all our endeavours to per∣swade her to come out, and I would not leave Navarre (as I had resolved) untill I lost all hopes of seeing Bellasire once more: But the day that I knew she had engaged her self for ever, I came away without say∣ing a word to any body; my Father was dead, and there was none that could hin∣der me; I came into Catalonia with inten∣tion to take Shipping for Africa, to spend my dayes in the Deserts of that Country. I happen'd by chance into this House, I lik'd it, I found it retir'd and solitary, and such as I could wish for my purpose; I bought it: Here I have liv'd this five years past, as melancholly a life as a man ought to do that kill'd his Friend, that made the

amiablest person in the world the most un∣happy, and that by his own fault, lost the pleasure of spending his life agreeably with her. Now Sir, will you continue still in your belief, that your Misfortunes are com∣parable to mine.

Alphonso left off here, and seemed to be so over-charged with sadness, by renewing the grief which the remembrance of his Misfortunes past caused him, that Gonsalvo several times believed he was going to breath out his last. He said all the things to him that he thought capable of giving him ease; but he could not deny within himself but that those Misfortunes he heard related, might at least come in competition with those he had suffer'd.

In the mean time his grief for the loss of Zayde increased every day; he told Alphonso he was resolved to leave Spain, and to go serve the Emperour in his War against the Sar∣razens, who having gotten possession of Si∣cily, made daily incursions into Italy. Al∣phonso was not a little afflicted at this reso∣lution; he used all the arguments he could think of, to disswade him, but his endea∣vours proved ineffectual.

The disquiet which Love creates, would not let Gonsalvo rest in this solitude; he was prompted to leave it by a secret hope,

to which he gave no great heed himself, that he should once more see Zayde. He resolves therefore to leave Alphonso; never was there so sad a separation: They re∣peated over all the sad adventures of their life; to which they added that, of never hoping to see one another again; after pro∣mising mutually to write to one another, Alphonso remained in his solitude, and Gon∣salvo went to lye at Tortosa.

He liv'd in a House, the Garden whereof, was the greatest Ornament of that Town; he passed all the Night in walking; some part whereof, he spent upon the Banks of of the River Elbe: Being wearied with walk∣ing, he sate down at the foot of one of the Terrasses of this fine Garden; it was so low, that he cold hear some that were walk∣ing there, talk: This noyse did not present∣ly awake him out of his Dreaming; but at last he was startled by the sound of a voice like Zaydes, which gave him (whether he would or no) both attention and curiosity; he rose up that he might come near to the Terrasse: At first he heard nothing, be∣cause the Alley in which they walked abutting upon this Tarrasse, they were fain to turn back again, and go further off from him. He stood in the same place waiting their return; they came back as he hop'd

they would, and he heard that same voyce again, which surprised him before. There are too many Contrarieties (said she) in the things that might make me happy; I cannot hope to be so, but I should think my grief less, if I could but have made him under∣stand my meaning, and be assured of his. After these words, Gonsalvo could not well distinguish what they said, because they that spoke began to go further off; they came back the second time, speaking, It is true, (said she) that the force of our first inclina∣tions may excuse that which I have suffered to grow in my heart; but what a strange effect of chance would it be (if it should fall out) that this inclination which seems to agree with my destiny, should serve one day to make me fol∣low it with regret. This was all that Gon∣salvo could understand; the great resem∣blance this voice had with that of Zayde's amazed him, and perhaps, he had suspected her to be the same, if he had not heard her speak Spanish: Though he found that she that spoke, had the accent of a Stranger, yet did not reflect upon that, because it was upon the borders of Spain, where they do not speak so exactly as in Castile, he pity∣ed her that spoke, and her words made him judge that there was something of extraor∣dinary in her Fortune. The next day he

parted from Tortosa, with design to take Shipping. He had not gone fat when he saw in the middle of the River Iber a Barge ve∣ry richly set out, cover'd with a magnificent Tilt tucked up of all sides, and in it seue∣ral Women, amongst whom he saw Zayde, she was standing up as ioi were to see the sweetness of that River, and yet she seemed to be in a profound study. Here it were requisite to have lost a Mistress without all hopes of, retrieving her, to be able to ex∣press what Gonsalvo felt at the sight of Zayde: His surprise and his joy were so great, that he knew not where he was, nor what he saw; he looked earnestly upon her, and knowing again all the dineaments of her face, he was afraid to mistake; he could not presently imagine that she (whom he be∣lieved separated from him by so many Seas) could be within the breadth of one little Ri∣ver of him; and yet he had presently a mind to go to her, and speak to her; and make her take notice of him; but he was apprehensive of offending her, and so durstst not make himself to be remark'd, or testifie his joy before those that were with her. So unexpected a happiness, and so many different thoughts would not let him fix up∣on a resolution; but at last, having recol∣lected himself, and being assured that he

was not deceived, he decrees within him∣self not to discover himself to Zayde, but only to follow her Barge to the Hort, where he hoped to find some opp•…•…unity of speak∣ing to her in private; he believed at least to find out, what Country she was, and whe∣ther she was going; he fancied likewise by seeing those that were in the Barge, to be able to find out whether that Rival whom he believed like him were with her or no; in fine, he thought himself now near the end of all his uncertainties, and that at least he might inform Zayd of the love he had for her. He would gladly have wish'd that her eyes had been turned that way, but she was in such a deep thoughtfulness that her looks continued still fixed upon the water. In the midst of his Joy he remembred the person that he heard speak in the Garden of Tortosa, and though she spoke Spanish, the accent of a stranger which he observed in her speech, and the sight of Zayd so near the same place, made him Imagin it might be she her self. This thought troubled the pleasure he took in seeing her again; he remembred what he had heard her say of a former inclination; and notwithstanding the Disposition he might have to flatter himself, he was too well perswaded that Zayd lamented the losse of a lover whom she loved, who might have

a part of that inclination; but her other following words which he still remembred gave him some hope; he imagin'd that it might not be impossible, but that there was some thing writ of advantage for him; he then began to doubt whether it was Zayd he had heard or not; and found it very unlike∣ly that she could learn the Spanish Tongue in so short a space of time.

The disquiet these uncertainties caused in him was dissipated by the joy he felt for ha∣ving found Zayd again; and without think∣ing whether he was beloved or not, all his mind was taken up with the pleasure he ho∣ped shortly to have of being once more seen by Zayds fair Eyes; in the mean time he walked still along by the River side follow∣ing the Barge; and though he Rid a great pace, some people that followed on Horse∣back passed by him; he went some paces ont of the way that they might not see his Face; but as one of them came behind the rest alone, the curiosity he had to learn som∣thing of Zayde, made him forget his ordi∣nary caution, and asked him if he did not know who they were that Sailed in that Barge. They are said he, people of Quality amongst the Moores, that have been for some dayes at Tortosa, and are going to Ship them∣selves in a great Vessel to go for their own

Country. In saying these words he looked with much attention upon Gonsalvo, and so Galloped to over-take his Companions. Gonsalvo was somewhat surprised at this re∣lation, and was no longer in doubt, but that it was Zayde, whom he heard talk in the Garden, since he knew that she lay at Tortosa: a turning which the River made in that place where the way was very craggy, made him lose sight of Zayde. At that very instant all those Horse-men that passed by him, returned back to him; he found they knew him, he endeavoured to go out of their way, but they so beset him, that there was no going from them; he knew him that was at the head of them to be Oliban, one of the chief Commanders of the Prince of Leons Guards; he was in∣finitely troubled to be known by him: but his trouble was the more, because this Of∣ficer told him, that he had been many dayes in quest of him, and that he had order from the Prince to bring him to Court. How! The Prince is not satisfied with his Usage to me, but he must more∣over robb me of my Liberty! It is the only Treasure I have left me, and I'le perish be∣fore I will suffer it to be taken from me. At these words he drew his Sword, and without considering the number of those that envi∣roned

him, and flew with such extraordina∣ry Courage upon them, that he laid two or three of them flat, before they were able to put themselves in a posture of Defence. Oliban commanded the Guards to seize him only, and not to attempt any thing against his Life; they obeyd him with difficulty, for Gonsalvo run at them with great Fury, that they could no longer defend themselves without offending him; but their Captain amazed at Gonsalvos Wonderful Actions, and being fearful of not being able to fulfil the Princes Orders, alighted from his Horse; and with one thrust kill'd Gonsalvo's Horse; the Horse in his fall so intangled his Rider, that it was impossible for him to disengage himself, his Sword also was broke in the fall; all his assailants encompassed him, and Oliban with much civility represents to him the impossibility of being able to resist so many, Gonsalvo was two sensible of it; but he thought it so great an unhappiness, to be conducted to Leon that he could not submit to it: Zayd but just found, and now going to be lost, fill'd his Soul with bitter∣ness and despair; he was in such a sad ta∣king that Don Garcias his Officer, believed that his apprehension of being ill treated made him have such a repugnacy to go to Court; My Lord, said he, you must needs

be ignorant of what had pas'd at Leon of late to have such an apprehension of returning thither; I am ignorant of all things, replyed Gonsalvo, I only know that you would do me a far greater favour, in taking away my Life, than in forcing me to see the Prince of Leon. I would tell you more, replyed Oliban, if I had not been expresly forbid∣den by the Prince; let it only suffice, that I assure you, that you need not fear any thing. I hope the Affliction I receive by being compelled to return to Leon against my will, will hinder me from being in a condition to satisfie Don Garcias cruelty when I come there. As he said these last words, he saw Zaydes Barge again, but could not see her face, for she was sate down with her Face turned from him. What a destiny is mine, said he within himself! I lose Zayde at the very instant I found her; when I saw her, and spoke to her in Alphonso's house, she could not understand me; when I met her at Tortosa, and might be understood by her, I did not know her again; and now that I see her, that I know her, and that she might understand me, I cannot speak to her, and hope no more to see her, he remained for some time agitated betwixt these various thoughts; then on a sudden turning himself towards those that led him, I do not think,

said he to them, you fear that I can make my escape: I beg the favour of you, to let me go nearer to the River, to speak but one word or two to some that I see in that Barge; I am in∣finitly troubled, answer'd Oliban, to have Orders so contrary to your desires, for I am for∣bidden to let you speak to any Soul alive, and you must give me your pardon if I fol∣low my Orders; Gonsalvo was so nearly touched at this denial, that the Officer ob∣serving the violence of his Passion, and fearing he would call to his assistance those that were in the Barge, he commanded his men to lead him further off from the Ri∣ver; which they did immediately, and car∣ried Don Gonsalvo to the next place of convenience to lodge that night; the next day they took their journey to Leon and marched with so much speed that they arri∣ved there in few days. Oliban sent one of his people to acquaint the Prince that they were arrived, and stayed for his comming back two hundred Paces from the Town; he that was sent, brought Order that Gonsalvo should be conducted into the Pallace by a by∣way, and brought straight into Don Garcia's Closet; Gonsalvo was so sad, that he let them carry him whither they would, without so much as asking them whither they lead him.