The comical romance, or, A facetious history of a company of stage-players interwoven with divers choice novels, rare adventures, and amorous intrigues / written originally in French by the renowned Scarron ; and now turned into English by J.B.

CHAP. XIII.

Something longer then the foregoing. The History of Monsieur Destiny, and Madam Star.

I Was born in a Village not far from Paris, and could perhaps make you believe, if I would endeavour it, that I descended from some Illu∣••trious Family, it being easie to impose on such ••s have an affection for us, and cannot disprove ••s; but really I have too much generosity in my ••ature to deny the meanness of my Extraction. My Father was indeed one of the Chiefest in ••hat Village, and as well to pass as the best of ••hem: yet I have often heard him confess he ••as a poor Gentleman born, and served the ••••ing in his Youngest dayes as a Souldier, where ••aving reap'd nothing but scars and wounds, ••e turned Squire, or Gentleman Usher to a rich ••arisian Dame, where, after he had scraped 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••mm together, for he was a kind of Steward ••••kewise, and finger'd the cash, which no doubt ••••d sometimes stick to his fingers; he married 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ancient Gentlewoman in the Family, who ••••••ing shortly after, left him sole Executor, ••hich was a double advantage. He grew weary 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a little while of living single, and being no ••••s tired with his Service, he engaged him self a

second time in the snares of Matrimony with a Country-woman, that was wont to furnish his Ladies Family with bread; and by this Woman was I brought into the World. My Fathers name was Garigues, I never could learn certain∣ly what Country Man he was, and as for my Mothers name, that signifies little to our History. It is sufficient to let you know, she was more co∣vetous then my Father, and my Father more covetous then any man, and both of them of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 large conscience. My Father had the repute o•• inventing the morsell of flesh tyed to a string and fastned to the Pot-hooks, that so it migh•• be pull'd out before it consumed too much, and serve a week thorow, to make Broth or Soupe. could reckon up a hundred other inventions o•• good Husbandry, which got him the name o•• Spare-penny; but not to over-tyre you, I shall onl•• make mention of two, very hard to be believed and yet not more strange then true. He ha•• heaped up good store of Corn together, to mal•• his advantage of a dear Market; but a genera•• abundance following, and the price growin•• less and less, he was so possess'd with dispa•••• and deprived of all judgement and reaso•• that he would needs hang himself: A Neig••¦bour of his coming into the Chamber, while 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was disposing him to execute this noble desig•• and had hid her self for fear of discovery, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to some other intent, was very much astonish when she saw him swinging on an Iron hook the chimney. She ran to him, and cryed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for help, and withall cut him down agai••

whilst my Mother coming up at the noise, help∣ed to pull of the neck-lace he had on. Perhaps they afterwards repented of the good deed, for he bang'd both of them, like Balaams Asse, and made the poor Woman pay for the new Cord she had cut, deducting what it cost out of a lit∣tle sum of money which he owed her. The o∣ther story is no less wonderfull: He grudged every thing he eat, and his Wife being brought a bed of a Boy, the fancy took him, that she had milk enough to nourish both her Son, and him∣••elf likewise; and hoped by this whimsey, that ••ucking his Wife would save him so much other ••ood, and prove a diet of an easie digestion. My Mother had yet less understanding then this Man, and was more covetous; so that although ••er invention were not so fruitfull, yet when ••e had once lighted on the secret, she was more ••xact in observing and practising those conceits ••hen himself. She therefore makes a tryal to ••urse both her Child and her Husband with ••er own breast-milk, and sometimes took a share ••er self likewise, with so much conceited reso∣••••tion, that the poor innocent Babe dyed a ••••artyr, for pure hunger, and my Father and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 other were so weakned, and afterwards so ra∣••nously hungry, that with overmuch repletion, ••••at fell into a tedious fit of sickness. A while ••••ter my Mother was big with Child of me, and ••••ing happily delivered, of a most unhappy ••reture, my Father hied him to Paris to in∣••••eat his Lady to be, God-Mother, and Partner ••••th an honest Clergy-Man, who dwelt in our

Village, where he had a very good living. Com∣ing home again about the Evening, to avoid the excessive heat of the day, as he passed thorow one of the great Streets in the Faux bourg, where most of the new Houses were then building, he perceived something very bright and glistering, that crossed over the street. He was not much concerned what it might be: but a kinde of a mournfull noise, reaching his Ear, as from some body that was in great distresse, which noise see∣med to proceed from the place he saw the bright object go in at, he boldly follows the sound in∣to a large Building not yet finished, where he found a woman sitting on the ground. The place she set in was so light with the Moon shine that my Father perceived she was very young, and very well clad, and that which sparkled so in his Eyes, was a Cloath of Silver Garment she had on; you need not doubt, but my Fa∣ther who was valiant enough from his Cradle, was lesse surprised then the young Gentlewo∣man; but she was in such a condition, that worse could not befall her, then what she then suffered; And that gave her confidence to speak first, and tell my Father; that if he were a Chri∣stian he could not chuse but pitty her; she be∣ing then in labour; and that finding her pain encrease, her servant Maid not returning as sh•• expected, whom she had sent to a trusty Mid∣wife of her acquaintance, she was happily stol forth of her Fathers house, without disturbin any body: where she had left the doore ope•• that the maid might get in again upon occasio••

she had scarce ended these words, but she was de∣livered of a Childe which my Father wrapped up in his cloack. He supplyed the Office she then put upon him, the best he could, and this young lasse conjured him to carry away the little Infant immediately, to be very carefull of it, and within two dayes after, not faile to go to a certain Clergy-man, she named to him, who would supply him with moneys, and let him have all the conveniencies requisite for the maintenance of the Babe. At this mention of money, my Father whose Soul thirsted after Gain, was going about to display all the Squire∣ships eloquence he had; but she allowed him not so much time; For putting a Ring on his Finger, which was the token to the Priest, whom ••e was to enquire for, she tyed the Childe ••s well as she could in her Neck-handkerchief, ••nd wrapping it again in the Cloake, made ••im haste away with all speed; though he ••t first were somewhat unwilling to leave her, ••n that condition. I suppose, she had much a∣••oe to get back again to her Lodgin; as for ••y Father he comes home to the Village, put ••e Childe to his Wives custody, and failed ••ot, two dayes after, to hunt out the old Priest, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 whom he showed the Token. He understood 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this man, that the Mother of this Infant was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a very great and rich Family; and had been ••t with Childe by a Scots Lord, who was gone ••er into Ireland to raise men for the Kings Ser∣••••ce, which Lord had promised her Marriage. ••he Priest told him moreover, that by reason

of the hardshift she made when she was deliver∣ed, it had put her into such a Feaver, that they dispaired of her life, and in the extremity of her malady, she had confessed all the Story to her own Father, and Mother, who instead of chiding, endeavoured to comfort her, as ha∣ving indeed, but that onely childe in the world; yet the misfortune was kept secret from the Family, and in conclusion he assured my Fa∣ther, that in case he took a special care of the Childe, his fortune was made for ever: where∣upon he gave him fifty Crowns, and a bundle of all things fitting for his little Nurssery. My Fa∣ther returned to the Village, after he had eaten a plentifull Dinner with the Priest. I was sent out to Nurse, and a stranger was put into the Sons place. About a moneth after the Scotch Lord arrived, and finding his Mistresse in thi•• desparate condition, was married to her a day before she dyed, and so became a Widdower almost as soon as a Husband. He came to ou•• Village within a few dayes afterwards, with hi•• late Wives Father and Mother. The sight of th•• Childe renewed their sorrows afresh, while the•• hugg'd the poore Infant almost to death wit•• kindenesse, and kissed it eternally: My Fathe•• had reason to brag of the Scotch Lords bounty nor did the others forget to bestow a largesse up∣on their pretty Grandchildes keeper. The•• went back to Paris very well satisfied 〈◊〉〈◊〉 th•• care my Father had taken, but would not ca••∣ry the Childe away as then, the Marriage b••∣ing kept private for some reasons best known

themselves, as soon as I could go alone, my father sent for me to his own house, to be a Compag∣non to the young Count of Glaris, (for so was the Childe called after his Fathers Title.) The antipathy, which is mentioned to have been be∣twixt Jacob and Esau, even from their Mothers Wombe, could not be greater then that be∣twixt this young Earle and my self: My Father and Mother loved him tenderly, and had an a∣version towards me, though I gave them as much hopes that I might one day prove an ho∣nest man, as he did to the contrary. There was nothing but what was very suspicious and mean in him; and I appeared to be somewhat above my poore condition, rather behaving my self like an Earles, than Garigues son: And though I am now reduced to the necessity of being an Actor; yet I rather construe it a Pique of For∣tune against Nature, then any oversight of na∣ture in my production; or if I may take leave to give you my opinion freely, then let me tell you, it hath been often observed, that Nature takes delight sometimes to confer her favour on those whom fortune hath an unjust aversion for. I shall step over the infancy of two young coun∣try Boyes (for Glaris was by inclination more a Peasant than my self) since our chiefest adven∣tures in that unripe age, was onely our fre∣quent wrangling and cuffing. But thus much by the way, when ever we fell together by the Ears, I always got the Victory, unless my Father or mo∣ther took his part in the contest, which they did so often, and with so much heat and passion,

that my God father, by name, Monsieur de Sant Sauveur, was troubled at it, and begged of my Father to let him have me away. To this he consented with much gladnesse, my Mother being yet more willing and joyfull then my Father to be rid of my company. Thus was I kept at my Godfathers well clad, and not ill fed, he very much caressing and seldome beat∣ing me. He spared no cost to have m•• taught both to Read and Write well, and as soon as I was advanced to an Age capable of undertaking the Latine tongue, he perswaded a person of quality his neighbour, and a man that had great riches, to let me Study with his two Sons, un∣der the tuition of a very learned Scholler, he had sent for from Paris, to whom he gave a very considerable allowance. This Gentleman, by Name and Title, the Baron of Arques bred up his children with a great deal of care. The elder was called S^t. Far, a youth of an indifferent good shape, but withall bruitish without re∣claiming; whereas the youngest, besides that he was better fashioned then his brother was in∣dued with a vivacity of Spirit and nobleness of mind equal to the comliness of his body. In short, I do not believe there could be greater ap∣pearances or hopes of virtue and signal honesty in any person, then were to be found in this Gentleman whose name was Verville. He ho∣noured me with his friendship, and I loved him as if he had been my own brother, ever respecting him like a Master. As for Saint Far he was un∣capable of every thing, but his unruly passions,

nor can I better express what sentiments his soul cherished for his brother, and me, then by af∣firming, that he had no more regard or affection for him, then for me, whom he treated with a careless neglect, and had no less love for me, then for his brother whom he little valued. His di∣vertisements were very different from ours; He delighted in nothing but hunting, and loathed his studies; Verville seldome followed that sport, but gave himself much to his books, in which we held a rare conformity, as in most other things, to which my inclination and not com∣plaisance onely prompted me, though in civility I was obliged to the last. The Baron D Arques had a very fair Library of Romances: Our Tutor, who had never met with any in his Latin Pro∣vince, and therefore had at first forbidden us the reading them, and often condemned them to the Baron, there by to render them as despica∣ble as they were pleasing to him, was at last so charmed with them himself, that after he had devoured both Ancient and Modern, he ac∣knowledged, that in his opinion the reading of good Romances, instructed so delightfully, that he believed them no less effectual to stir us up to noble atchievments, and polish the minde with Wit and Judgment, then Plutarch's works them∣selves. He therefore perswaded us to be conver∣sant in them, with as much earnestness, as he before prohibited it, and bid us in the first place begin with the most Modern: but those were yet above our apprehension, and till we came to be at the age of Fifteen, we found more Gust••

in Amadis de Gaule, then Astrea, and those other curious Romances of a latter date, wherein our French Authors have made it appear, as well as in a thousand other particulars, that though they are not so happy at inventing, as other na∣tions, yet they exceed them all for imitation and improving. We therefore wasted a great portion of the time, allowed us for our recreati∣on, in the lecture of Romances. But as for S^t. Far, he nicknamed us The dull Book-wormes, and went each day abroad a hunting or beating the counrey people, at which he was very active. The inclination I had to study and temperance, got me the good will of the Baron of Arques, who was as tender of me as if I had been his kinsman. He would not part me from his Sons, when he sent them to the Accademy, about which time, an eminent Noble man, and one that was re∣lated to the Baron D' Arques raising some troops of horse for the Venetians service. Saint Far and Verville perswaded their Father so much that he gave them leave to go thither with him. The good Gentleman would needs have me venture likewise, and Monsieur de Saint Sauveur my God father, who lov'd me extreamly, freely gave me a very considerable bill of Exchange that I might not be too chargeable to those whom I had the honour to accompany, and to make use of upon occasion. We took the far∣thest way about that we might have the sight of Rome, and some other of the chiefest Cities of Italy, in each of which we made some stay, those onely excepted whereof the Spaniards are Ma∣sters

In Rome I fell sick, and the two brothers prosecuted their journey; he that carried them not daring to loose the opportunity of the Popes Gallies, which were going to joyne with the Ve∣netian Armada about the Dardenellas, where they lay in wait for the Turks. Vervill was the most sorrowful man that could be, to leave me, and I almost dispaired to think of his going at that time from me, when I hoped to have ren∣dred my self worthy of his affection, by some signal service. As for Saint Far, I think he par∣ted, as if he had never seen me, nor did I re∣spect him, but as the brother of Vervill, who left me all the money he could amass together, but whether with his brothers consent or not, is un∣known. Thus was I left sick at Rome, without any other acquaintance then my Landlord, who was a Flemish Apothecary; I had all the atten∣dance and assistance that could be desired, du∣ring my Malady; he had no little skill in Phy∣sick, and (according to my poor judgment) I found him farr more able then the Italian Do∣ctor, that undertook me. In the end, I reco∣vered, and got strength enough, to goe and view the most remarquable things about Rome, where a stranger may finde enough to satisfie his grea∣test curiosity. I pleased my self extreamly in frequenting the Vine-yards, for so they call di∣vers Gardens much fairer then the Tuilleries) which the Cardinals, and other persons of qua∣lity about Rome maintain with great curiosity, rather out of pride and vain-glory, then any de∣light of their own, seldome or never going

themselves thither. One day when I was walk∣ing in one of the fairest gardens, I saw about the turning of the walk, a couple of women in very good habits, whom two young French men had stop'd, and would not suffer to passe by them, till the youngest had taken off the vail which cover'd her face. The one of these, who seemed to be the Master, was indeed so insolent as to offer to pull off her vail by force, whilest she that was bare-faced was with-held by his ser∣vant. I made no demur upon what I thought my self obliged to do; but told those uncivil persons, their insolence was not to be endured. They were both amazed, hearing me speak with so much resolution, as might have startled them, though they had been provided with swords, as I my self was, which then indeed they were not. The two women ran towards me for shel••er, and the young French-man pre∣ferring the displeasure of an affront to his being beaten, said to me at his going thence, Monsieur Bravo, we may meet another time, when all the weapons shall not be in one hand: To which I replyed, that I should never hide my self; his Valet followed him, and I remained with the two Gentlewomen, the elder of them who was unvailed being about the age of thirty, she re∣turned me thanks in such good French, as had not the least Accent of Italian, and told me a∣mongst other passages, that if all the French na∣tion were like me, the Italian Ladies would make no scruple to follow our examples. After which words, to retribute as it were the service

I had done them, she added, that although she had refused her daughter should unvail her face upon compulsion, it was but just however, that she should uncover her self to me. Lift up your vail Leonora, pursued she, that this gentleman may know we are not altogether unworthy of the honour of his protection. She had no sooner said so, but her daughter in obedience took off her vail, or rather dazled me. I never beheld any thing so beautifull; she cast her bright eyes twice or thrice upon me, as it were by ••ealth, and seeing me still gaze upon her, it brought so lively a red into her cheeks, as made her countenance look like an Angels. I percei∣ved her mother was very fond of her; for she see med to participate of the delight I took in beholding her daughter. But I being unac∣quainted with the like Adventures, and some∣what out of countenance thorow my youthfull bash fulness betraid a timerous kind of weakness by the cold compliments I made in answer to their repeated thanks; when they took their leaves of me, which perhaps gave them a worse opinion of my judgment, then they had of my courage. I was vexed in my minde, I had not inquired where they dwelt, and proffer'd to wait upon them to their lodging; but when it was too late to overtake them, I asked the Gardiner whether he knew them; and it was a long time before we could understand each other, he speaking as broken French, as my Italian. As last more by figns then words, he made me un∣derstand, they were unknown to him. I re∣turned

back again to my Dutch Apothecary, not the same man as I went forth, that is to say, ve∣ry much smitten, and very desirous to know, whether the fair Leonora were a Courtezan, or an honest Lady, and whether she had as much wit as her mother shewed in her discourse. This made me resign my self up to Melancholly and sullen pensiveness; flattering my self with a thousand imaginary hopes, which somewhat diverted me at first, but after wards left me in grief and trouble, when I had duly weighed the improbability of the thing Having built many Castles in the air, at last, I took up a resolution of seeking them out again, presuming I could, not hunt very long without retriving them, in some part or other of that City, which is not o∣ver Populus. This made me walk abroad the second time on the same day, searching in every place where I could expect to finde them, but I return'd back much more tyred and disconten∣ted, then I was before. The next day I began a stricter search, but with the same success, which encreased my discontent. The speed I made in hurrying up and down, the often cast∣ing up my eyes at every window I passed, and the clutter I betraid in following every woman, that had the least resemblance of my Leonora's shape or stature, made me be taken by every one that observed it, for the most ridiculous Monsieur that ever appeared in Rome, to the dis∣grace of the whole Nation. 'Tis very strange, how I could recover any strength, being in this damnable pickle, so over head and ears in love,

with I knew not whom. And yet my bodily health encreased till I was perfectly well, whilst I remained still distempered in minde, and di∣vided betwixt Love and honour the first detain∣ing me in Rome, the other summoning me to Candia, so that I knew not whether to obey, ei∣ther the letters I often received from Verville, who conjured me by all the tyes of friendship to go and finde him out, or my foolish passion that had thus possest me. At last considering I could not get the least intelligence of the two Ladies, though I had used all the possible diligence, I satisfied my Landlord, and made up my bun, dle ready to depart. The day before I went Signor Stephano Vanbergue, (so was my Apotheca∣ry called) told me, he would bestow a dinner upon me at a friends house of his, and let me see that for a Dutch man he had made no ill choice, adding withall, that he had forborn to invite me sooner, being a little jealous and wary in a thing concern'd his Amours. I promised to go rather out of complaisance, then any other motive, and thither we went together just at dinner time. The house he led me to, had nei∣ther the looks nor furniture sutable to an Apo∣thecary's Mistris: We came first into a Hall, very well adorned, and from thence into a most mag∣nificent chamber where I was received by Leo∣nora and her mother. You may well imagine how much this surprisal pleased me. This fair Virgins mother came up towards me according to the French mode of salutation, and truly ra∣ther kissed my cheek then I hers; I was so asto∣nished,

that I scarce knew what I did, or heard what she said; At length I recovered my sences; found Leonora more beautifull and charming then when I first beheld her; yet had not the confidence to kiss her. I perceived my errour as soon as I had committed it, but not endea∣vouring, or daring to repair it, it called as much blood into my face, as Leonars pretty modest bash fullness had into hers. Her mother told me, she was desirous, Before I left that City, to give me thanks for the pains I had taken in seeking for them; which encreased my confusion. She led me to a Ruell, trickt up after the French fa∣shion, whither her daughter did not follow, find∣ing me without doubt too sottish in my carriage and so not worthy her conversation. She staid with Signor Stephano, whilst I behaved my self with her mother, just according to my birth, which was to say truth, just like a country clown. She was pleased to furnish all the dis∣course her self, and shewed a great deal of dis∣cretion and wit, though there is nothing more difficult then to make wit appear to those that are void of it. For my part I never had less then at that nick of time, and if she were not tyred with my company then, surely she was never so with any one in her days. She told me amongst many other things (to which I hardly answered I, or no) that she was a French woman by birth, and I might know of Signor Stephano the reasons which detained her at Rome. After this, to dinner I must go, and behaved my self at Table as I had done before in the Ruell; for I was so

strangly troubled, that I could scarce know my right hand from my left. I sat all the time they were eating, just like an Image, with my eyes constantly fixed upon Leonoras, who was impor∣tuned with it no doubt, and to punish my folly, cast her eyes another way all the while I stared at hers. If the mother had not discoursed all the dinner time, there must have been a midnights silence: but she entertained Signor Stephano, a∣bout the affairs of Rome, at least I imagine so, for I am not certain of it. At last we rose from Table, to every ones content but mine, who grew Visibly worse and worse. When it was parting time, they told me a thousand fine ob∣••iging things, to which I answered not, but what is usually subscribed at the bottome of our Letters: Onely one thing I had the confidence to begg before my exit, which I had not the cou∣••age to take at my entrance, and that was a kiss from the fair Leonora, which compleated my ••uine. Stephano could not pump one single fil∣••able from me all the time we were going home. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lock'd my self into my chamber, cast me down ••pon a bed, with my Cloak and Sword about ••••e, there I considered all what had passed. Leo∣••••ra presented her self to my imagination with ••ore beauty, then had invaded my sight. I ••ethought my self of the little wit, I had shown ••oth to the Mother and Daughter, in my sullen ••umour, and every time this came into my me∣••ory, shame set my cheeks on fire. I wished I ••ad had a good fortune; was afflicted at my ••ean birth; and then fancied a many brave ad∣ventures

in my love and whimsical designs In short studying nothing more then some fair pre∣tence to put off my journey, but finding none that pleased me, I was so foolishly passionate as to wish for my former sickness again, to which I was but too much inclined. Then nothing but a letter to her would serve turn; but when I had begun it, I did not like it, and so put the beginning of one or two scribbles in my pocket, which I durst never have sent her, though I had finished them. After I had thus sufficiently tor∣mented my self, having nothing in my thoughts but Leonora, I would needs go to the same walk where I first had the hapiness to see her, and there resign my self up wholy to my passion for a while, and then return back again by their house for the last time. This spacious place 〈◊〉〈◊〉 walked to, was somwhat distant from the City, in the midst of several old uninhabited build∣ings. As I was passing under a Portico, I heard somebody coming after me, and at the same time was run into the body with a Rapier a lit∣tle beneath the Reins. I turned about very nimbly laying hold upon my sword, and find∣ing it was the young French Gentlemans servant I formerly mention'd, intended to return him as much as he so basely gave me. But having beaten him from his first Station a good way back, for he retreated still as he put by my thrusts; his master coming from behind the Por∣tico, and coward-like assaulting me behind gave me a terrible cut over the head, and ano∣ther thrust in my thigh, which made me fal••

down. There was little hopes I should escape ••heir hands, being thus surprised; but want of ••udgment, as it commonly happens in such un∣vorthy actions, made the young fellow wound ••is own Master in the right hand, and at the same ••stant two Father Minimes Friers of the Trinity ••u Mont, who passed that way, and saw their ••eacherous dealing with me, being come to my ••ssistance, my enemies fled, and left me woun∣••ed in 3 several places. Those good Friers were ••rench-men to my very great comfort; for in so ••nfrequented a place, if an Italian had seen me a such a condition he would sooner have avoi∣••ed, then succoured me, for fear least having ••••sisted me, he should be taken in the act, and ••••demned for having murthered me. Whilst ••e of these charitable Friers confessed me, the ther ran to my lodgin to give my Landlord ••otice of my misfortune; who came instantly 〈◊〉〈◊〉 me, and caused me to be carried away half ••ead to my own Chamber. These wounds, and ••e violent love I had late contracted, soon ••ought me into a desperate Feaver. There was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hopes of my life, nor did I much care what ••••came of me. Nevertheless, I could not put ••••e thoughts of Leonora from my mind, they in∣••eased daily upon me, as my strength wasted. ••••t being able therefore to undergo this bur∣••en any longer, nor willing to dye till I had ••••de discovery it was for her sake, I called for ••n, Ink, and Paper. They verily thought I ••••v'd; but I repeated it with so much earnest∣••••ss, and told them so often, they would drive

me into dispair, unless they furnished me with what I called for, that at length Signor Stephano who had discovered my passion, and had wit e∣nough to judge what my design was, sent me every thing I demanded, and as if he had been Secretary to my thoughts, he would needs stay alone in my company. I read over the papers I had formerly begun, once or twice, to help me in the stile I had formerly fancied, and then wrote thus to Leonora.

I no sooner beheld you, but I was compell••d to love you; my reason made no opposition, but acknowledged with my eyes, that you were the loveliest object in the World, instead of informing me that I was unwor∣thy to be your Servant. But what could this have done, save onely to inflame my wounds by those fruitless re∣medies, and after it had put me on the defensive po∣sture, I must have yielded at the last, to the necessity of loving you; a fate you do impose on all that have the boldness to lift their eyes up to your beauty I have loved you therefore, fairest Leonora, but with a lov•• so tempered with respect that you in reason, ought 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to hate me for it, though I have taken the confidence 〈◊〉〈◊〉 discover it. But, how is it possible to dye for your sak•• and service, and not proclaim it to the world, or ho•• can you deny to pardon him this crime, whom you wi•••• have so little time to chide. 'Tis true, having so fai•• a cause, as you are, for my death, it proves a reco•••• pence not to be deserved, but by a thousand service•• which may perhaps make you regret I die so nobly. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 do not envy me this happiness, most lovely Leonora since you cannot deprive me of it, and since it is 〈◊〉〈◊〉

onely favour I ever received from the hands of Fortune•• who never can sufficiently reward your Merrit but in raising you up servants, as much above my meaness, as all other beauties are below yours. I am not therefore so proud or vain, to hope the least sentiment of pitty.

I could proceed no further, my strength fail∣ed me of a sudden, the Pen falling out of my hand; my body not being able to obey the Dictates of my restless fancy; for otherwise, that part had been the least of what I had in my thoughts to thrust into the Letter, so much had Love and my Indisposition heated my heart and brain. I was a long time in a trance, not gi∣ving any signs of Life: Signor Stephano, who ••erceiv'd it, opened the Chamber door, to ••end for a Priest At the same instant Leonora and her Mother came to visit me. They were ••nformed that I was wounded; and believing ••y the circumstances it was upon their quarrel, ••hough they knew themselves the innocent ••ause of this misfortune, yet they made no ••ruple to give me a Visit in the sad condition I ••ay My trance lasted so long, that they went ••way again before I recovered, being both very ••uch grieved, as you may conjecture, believing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 would end in death. They perused what I ••ad written, and the Mother more inquisitive ••••en her Daughter had also read some papers ••••at were scattered at my Beds-head, amongst ••hich there hapned to be one from my Father ••arigvez. I lay a long time struggling betwixt ••••e and death; but at length, nature proved

strongest, and in fifteen dayes after, I was out of danger, and so in six weeks time, began to crawl a new about the Chamber. My Land-lord often told me tidings of Leonora; and gave me an•• account of her Mothers Charitable Visit, which bred an extream joy in me, and though I wa•• somewhat dis satisfied that they had seen my Fathers Letter, yet knowing they had read the other likewise it was enough to over-ballance the trouble it put me into. I could talk of no∣thing but Leonora when ever Signo•• Stephan•• and my self were in discourse together, and one day remembring how her mother had said, tha•• he could inform me what she was, and why sh•• resided in Rome, I intreated him to impart wha•• he knew of her: He told me, she was called Ma¦dam De la Boissiere; and came to Rome with th•• Ambassadors wife from France; where a Perso•• of Quality neer related to the Ambassador, fal¦ling in Love with her, and she allowing of it they married secretly; and from their lawful but private embraces, sprung this Leonora: H•• further related, that the Gentleman havin•• had some controversie with the Ambassado•• Family, was thereby oblidged to quit Rome an•• retire a while to Venice with Madam Boissier•• till the Embassy was over, and then havin•• brought her back to Rome, furnished a house fo•• her, and taken such order that she might live 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a handsom condition, he returned into Fran•••• Whither his Father summoned him, but du•••• not carry her, as knowing the match wou•••• never be approved by his friends. I must con¦fess

I could sometimes have wished my Leonora had not been the Legitimate daughter of so great a person, that so her birth might have better corresponded with mine; yet then I recanted those criminal desires, and wished again her For∣tune equal to her deserts, though these last thoughts tumbled me into a kind of dispair; for loving her above my own life, I foresaw well e∣nough, I never could be happy till I possessed her, tho I should make her unhappy in my poor and wilde condition. When I was perfectly recover∣ed, and no sign of my late misfortune appeared, but onely the paleness of my face, caused by the over much loss of blood; my young Masters re∣turned from the Vinetians service, the Plague which raged in the Army, not suffering them a∣ny longer to remain there and exercise their Valour. Verville continued to love me still, as he had done before, but Saint Far did not then discover he hated me so mortally as I have since experimented. I made them a reci∣tal of all that had befallen me, excepting on∣ly my passion towards Leonora. They expressed an infinite desire to be acquainted with her, which I heightned by exagerating the worth both of the Mother and her Daughter. It is no policy to praise her we love, before those that may possibly become as much in love with the same person themselves, since affection often∣times steals into the Soul as well thorow the Ear, as by the Eye, it being an oversight they too often repent of afterwards, that commit it; which I shall prove by my own sad experience.

Saint Far every day asked, when I would go with him to Madam De la Boissiere; and one day importuning me very earnestly, I told him, I knew not whether she would admit him by rea∣son she lived very retired. I perceive you love her daughter, said he, and then telling me he could find the way alone, began to urge me so much, that I was surprized, and appeared so concerned, that he discovered cleerly, what before he onely barely conjectured, which made him railly me so severely, as made Verville pitty the condition I was in. He took me away from his uncivil brother, and made me walk with him to the Cours, where I was extreamly perplexed, notwithstanding all the pains Vervil took to di∣vert me. Mean time, his ill-natured brother, was indeavouring his own satisfaction, or ra∣ther my ruine. He goes directly to Madam De la Boissieres, where they gave him entrance instead of me, being Trappan'd by my Landlords ser∣vingman whom he had chosen for his guide, as being well acquainted at the house; without which invention he would scarce have had ad∣mittance. Madam De La Boissiere was much sur∣prised to meet a stranger there. She told Saint Far, that being unacquainted with him, she knew not to what she might attribute the honour of his visit. Saint Far without more ceremony told her, that having a young fellow in his service, who had been so happy to receive some wounds in their rescue, he was de∣sirous to wait upon them. Having afterwards raved a long time according to his usual me∣thod,

which pleased neither the Mother nor her Daughter, as I was afterwards informed, and those two ingenious women not willing to haz∣ard the reputation of their wit, with one that seemed to have so little; the young fellow found but small pleasure in their conversation, whilst they grew more weary of his But that which most incensed him, was that he could not ob∣tain the satisfaction of seeing Leonora unvailed, whatever plea or compliments he made, her face being covered all the time according to the Mode of Rome usual amongst persons of Quality unmarried. At last this gallant Gentleman, grew weary of importuning them, freed them from his troublesome Courtship, and returned to Signor Stephanos, having reaped but very lit∣tle advantage to himself by the unworthy trick he put upon me. Ever after, as it is the nature of those brutish people, to continue mischievous against those they have wronged, he became so insolent, and disobliged me so frequently, that I would a hundred times have waved all respect towards him, had not his brother Vervills good∣ness made me contain my anger, and endure his follys. I did not as yet know the slurr he had put upon me particularly, though I several times found the effects of it. I perceived Madam De La Boissieres coldness indeed, had made her less respectful then at my first acquaintance; but yet there was so much civility still in her de∣portment, I did not think she was grown weary of me. As for Leonora she seemed very pensive in her Mothers presence, but when alone, my

thoughts her countenance was more invi∣ting, and her looks expressed somwhat of kindness. Destiny was thus relating his sto∣ry, and the Comedians gave attentive ear to him, not seeming to have the least inclination to sleep, when the clock striking two, Madam Cave put Destiny in mind he was to accom∣pany the same La Rappiniere that day to a house about two leagues out of Town, where they were to hunt. This made him take leave of the Company, and retire to his own chamber, where it is probable he laid him down to sleep, as the women likewise did, passing the remainder of the Night or early morning very quietly in their Beds, the Poet not being in Labour with any new Issue of his pregnant brain.