IN Clusa (the Metropolis of the wealthy King­dom of Armenis, which is compos'd of the greatest half of the Island Sindaton) there liv'd a Beauty, whom Fortune and Nature had joyntly bless'd with all those Graces that procure Adorers, yet render the possessor not altogether happy. No Man could see her and preserve his liberty, and therefore no Man could think himself secure in the possession; yet all the Youth of the Nation sigh'd for her, and those whom Fortune had not [Page 3] blest with Wealth, gaz'd on the happy exalted Fair, and had those thoughts for her, which we bear to distant Heaven, when yet we cannot paint the glorious Fabrick, or hope to reach the Blessing. Her Father (the Earl of Ci­sala) lov'd her more than Honour; he blest the Gods for this mighty gift, and with pride saw himself the Master of a thousand Hearts, by being the envied disposer of the Lovely Eriphile. The travelling God, in all his race, ne're saw a form like hers beneath him; Love threw his Ar­rows through the yielding Air, or shot at random to consume the trifles, her Eyes too fast supply the wilful loss, and strike even those who ne're before had bow'd. She seem'd the unknown Agent of the all-conquering Jove; for tho' she had the softness of a pitying Goddess, and the languishing looks of a yielding Virgin, yet her frowns out­stretch'd thunder, and shook the very State of powerful Love. Believe me, Albisinda, the on­ly way to express her Charms and Wit, were to to say she copied you; and had she prov'd as nicely Virtuous, she had been indeed another Miracle. But Beauty too often proves fatal to the owner, and a handsome Face an Enemy to Honour. All men admire the truly Charm­ing, and continued Assaults must needs shake the besieg'd, or force them at least to Ar­ticles.

Amongst the numerous Youth of Armenis, none could yet pretend to merit the happiness of her esteem, and the Young Lovers had no relief from pains, but when they remember'd, that time must advance one to the Heaven they aim [Page 4] at, and knew not but indulgent Providence had design'd the Bliss for them.

While thus she reign'd, absolute in the Hearts of a thousand noble Subjects, the Great Duke of Entheon arriv'd from his Travels. Him too she Conquer'd, but pay'd her Liberty as a price for the glorious Victory. He is the first Sub­ject of his Country, yet Master of a Soul that infinitely surmounts his Birth or Quality. He has the Courage of a Man in despair, yet attended with the Caution and diffidency of a Coward, or one who values Life. Like Heaven slow to Anger, but if it concerns his Fame, sudden in the Execution, and quicker than Lightning. The liberality of a migh­ty Prince, and the careful management of a pri­vate Subject, are equally his. He has the Reli­gion of the good and wise, without the Biggotry of the superstitious and ignorant: Looks like a Crown'd Head, yet more affable than the mean­est Courtier, and values the honour of his Na­tive Country beyond his private interest, or his dearer Life. Admir'd by all men but himself, and envied by none but Villains, who damn those Virtues in others, to which themselves can ne're attain. He speaks most Languages, and is con­versant in the History of most Nations. In short, Madam, 'tis generally said of him, that his Birth and breeding, make him truly the first Gentleman in the World. Sindalon thought her self enrich'd beyond her Neighbouring Coun­tries, and the happy Inhabitants of Armenis, look'd on this miraculous Youth, as their Geni­us or Guardian Angel. Every Man became his [Page 5] Votary, and those who had spent most of their Years abroad, felt yet those little qualms, and disturbances of Mind when they approach'd him, which bashful Strangers know in shining Courts, when ey'd by Godlike Monarchs. The fairest Ladies in Clusa sigh'd for him, the King doated upon him, and all the World blest him. Cisala amongst the rest, fail'd not to shew that esteem he had for him; and the Duke, who greedily had heard his Daughter's Beauty universally proclaim'd, forgot not to embrace his Friend­ship, he long'd to see the Original, which his Fancy, at second hand, began to form even be­yond what it was, or Nature e're cou'd make, and already believ'd that in all his Travels he had seen nothing comparable to the Fair Eriphile. The Earl's Country House was situated on the fertile Banks of that famous River which sup­supplies Clusa with daily Necessaries, and as it peaceably glides along washes the Walls of its Monarch's Garden. Thither the noble Youth went to confirm the loss of his Liberty, which already he had half resign'd. Cisala receiv'd him with that respect, his merit every where exacted, without regard to Quality, and now thought he had found a Husband worthy of his Daughter; yet doubtful of his wish'd success he acquainted the Fair One with the arrival of his Noble Guest. 'Twas impossible to live in Armenis, and not to have heard of him; she understood the meaning of this Advertisement, [...]nd carefully drest her self to the best advantage, an Art very commen­dable in Ladies, and in which those of her Na­tion are particularly skill'd. The Earl diverted him some time with the Rarities of his House, [Page 6] and shew'd him several pieces of exquisite paint­ing, done by the greatest Masters of the Age. Entheon felt a certain unexpressible disquiet, when he view'd a well-done Landskip, and wanted something which these Scenes suggested to his fancy, yet could harldly consult his Judg­ment to find what 'twas he sigh'd for. At last they resolv'd to take a turn in the Garden; where the Earl meeting with some Friends that had come to see him that Evening, was oblig'd to beg the Duke's Pardon, and promis'd to wait upon him in a very few Minutes. Entheon now left alone, and about to pursue his walk, was suddenly arrested by a Song that charm'd his Soul, and ty'd up all his thoughts. He won­der'd that he had not heard this Godlike Mu­sick, but fancy'd the Charm was just begun, or not heard to perfection, because of his past dis­course with the Earl. He stood sometime im­moveable, yet impatient to see her that sung so like an Angel; he resolv'd to lose one part of his present happiness for the purchase of a grea­ter, and, guided by the Heavenly Voice, with eager steps he reach'd at last the Grove. His Curiosity (tho' great) did not too far extend it self; his passion ne're o're-rul'd his Judgment, and this juncture he manag'd with the discre­tion of old Age: For tho he could have enter'd, as if chance not design had led him, yet he chose rather to keep himself undiscover'd, and to be blest unknown. But [...]hen he advanc'd, and softly had prest down those small boughs that obstructed his sight, how much was he surpris'd! to paint his thoughts, were a labour fit for a Muse at her full Strength! let this suffice, he [Page 7] saw Eriphile, and grew divinely mad. Mor­tality was forgot, and he remain'd in that exta­sie, which if exprest would seem wholly irreli­gious, to any Man but a transported Lover. The Fair One lay in a careless Posture, extended on the yielding Grass. Her Foot and half the Leg were obvious to his sight, and the scanty Bliss prompted his lingering Soul to Paint the Beauties yet unseen, even beyond the Original, or what Nature when she us'd her utmost Art could form. He curst his Fortune that shew'd no more, or else expos'd too much, and fear'd that a shape so far beyond what his eager thoughts had created, should be attended with the alloy of a homely Face; still waiting with the impa­tiency of a Man half blest, till some kind acci­dent should encrease the pleasure. She, who dreamt not of a prying Lover, proves kind with­out design, and taking her favourite Maid by the Hand (with an accent that gave a perfect har­mony to all her words) suddenly cry'd, my Dear Daria (for that was her Name) I've un­luckily lost one of my Garters. The Duke had no time to weigh his coming Fortune, and con­sequently lost part of the blessing, for the charm­ing Eriphile had no sooner said so, than he could see the Pettycoat gently remov'd. The pleasure of a longing stranger, when the furling Curtain shews a guilded Scene, and warlike Musick Charms the unsteady thoughts, sickens the Mind and thrills the kindl'd blood, but ne're yet gave a Joy confus'd like his. His transports were such (which some will think next door to impossibili­ty) that even Nature was husht, the Soul alone imploy'd, and Plato's way of loving was here [Page 8] practis'd to Perfection. Yet 'tis probable that had the old Philosopher himself seen so much, he had quit the Argument, and given the Body a conquest o're the Soul. The amorous Duke, blest too much, was unable to contain himself, and after he had at once survey'd the tempting Object, and her more bewitching Face, suddenly cry'd, Oh Heavens! Can so much Beauty ever give her self up to the embraces of a Mortal? Sure 'tis anticipating Heaven to lye panting in her Arms.—'Twas well the Fair One started from the Ground, the Lover else had prejudg'd the Duke, and his raptures had spoke his Judg­ment not the same he possest the preceeding mi­nute. But a violent Love seldom knows any bounds, and when powerful Beauty suddenly as­saults the Heart, Reason is often dislodg'd, or at least gives way, and then 'tis pardonable if a Man rave. However he begg'd a thousand Pardons for his Sin of ignorance, and told her, that tho' he thought himself infinitely blest by this Encounter; yet he could have wish'd it had hapned at a time when she was less dispos'd to Solitude: And offer'd to retire, that by his speedy absence she might retrieve a part of that silent pleasure she had lost, tho' not before he had as­sur'd her, that if his Curiosity had led him to the Grove, he paid the Forfeiture of his Liber­ty, as a punishment for his offence. The bewitch­ing Maid, not knowing he had seen so much, was pleas'd with the accident; their mutual sur­prise added to the Beauties of both, and she found by her forc'd silence, that the Duke was already more than indifferent to her. Yet a­sham'd of this new weakness, she strove sudden­ly [Page 9] to recollect her self, and confusedly told him, she presum'd he was the Duke of Entheon; that her Father and the whole World spoke advan­tagiously of him, and she could not think her self unfortunate in the Conversation of a Man so universally esteem'd. But that if he paid too great a price for that which enrich'd her, she would be so generous as not to urge him to so much bounty, notwithstanding of those advantages she might reap by it. This was indeed an obliging Compliment, but the fair Eriphile already lov'd him, and already knew it. She had too much wit therefore to lose so favourable an opportunity of engaging a Man, for whom the greatest Beau­ty in the Island would have dispenc'd with the out-gaurds of Modesty, or rather the superfluous niceties impos'd by Custom not Reason upon those of her Sex. On the other hand the Duke thought himself in Heaven. His excess of Joy almost deny'd him the use of his Reason, and if ever he was non-plus'd, let me suppose this the time. However from what she said, he guest his stay could not be altogether unseasonable. And after he had wittily acknowledg'd the Ho­nour she did him, was about to begin Encomi­ums on her Beauty, when the Earl arriv'd and made the Number four. He told the young Lover, he was glad to find his absence supply'd by the Conversation of a young Lady, in whom if he found any thing agreeable he was doubly Fortunate. This too was a handsome begin­ning, and the Duke (who had too noble a Soul not to be amorous) that moment renounc'd his Liberty, which was repaid with hers. To have seen this lovely Pair, would have kindl'd flames [Page 10] in others, when icy Age had banish'd native Heat. The Earl himself curst grey Hairs, griev'd he was born so soon; and to be again capable of loving, and fit to be belov'd, would have re­nounc'd the World's Empire, and that experi­ence which his Years had brought him. Enthe­on's looks spoke the agreeable disorders of his Mind, and the charming Mistress of his Heart had so much of a languishing softness, and new born Love in her Eyes, they reach'd his very Soul, and hurry'd him into extasie. The calm Evening added infinitely to their Pleasure, nor did they think of parting till the falling Dew oblig'd them to't.

The Duke was already divided from himself, his thoughts were wholly imploy'd on the Ad­ventures of that Day, and he was surpris'd to find himself in Clusa, when he had hardly dreamt of his being on the Road. To inform you how he spent the Night, were a needless labour, if you have been in Love, you can easily form his Pains, his Hopes, his Fears, and the strange e­motions of his Soul; and if you have not, you would hardly credit the Recital; as for the beau­teous Eriphile, Albisinda, I leave her to your un­erring Judgment, doubtless you can Divine her Thoughts, and if you never was a Prisoner to resistless Love, yet your fancy can easily paint her faint Joys, distant Cares, frequent Doubts, and disorder'd Thoughts.

Next Morning the Duke was at Court, e're the King had quit his Bed, and waited the Earl's arrival, with the impatiency of a young Lover. When he came, Entheon upon the first occasion told him how happy he was in being a Fa­ther; [Page 11] and smiling (said he) Cisala, sure you need no more to make you Master of all your fellow Creatures, than to shew them what a Treasure you can dispose of. The Earl, who could ne're enough esteem a Man of his Merit, was much pleas'd with this piece of Raillery (for so he would term it) and told him, the World was indeed pleas'd to commend his Daughter's Beauty, and that he was heartily sensible of the Honour he did him, in heightning her Cha­racter. For his good Opinion must needs be much to the advantage of a young Lady, since no Man refus'd to pay homage to his Judgment and Choice in every thing else: From this mi­nute let me date their Friendship. The Earl was no where to be found, but with the Duke; and Entheon must be sued to by Cisala. The Lover thought Clusa no other than a Desart, or if a Ball at Court sometimes oblig'd his Mistress to wait upon the Queen, he judg'd himself in ano­ther World. He found a livelier Air in every Man's Face, and the transports of his elevated Soul were such, that with difficulty he abstain'd from giving publick Testimonies of his inward satisfaction. The happy Eriphile ey'd him with concern, thankt the gods for the blessing of his Love, and knew no real Cares, but when she dreamt she did not please enough. The Duke became the Object of her serious Wishes, and he ne're petition'd Heaven without a Clause for her. Thus some Months were consum'd, Love was an equal Friend to both, and mutual hopes en­creas'd their growing flames. Each of them fear'd the loss of the other, and the Duke having obtain'd the Earl's consent, Hymen could not [Page 12] be wanting in his. In a word, they were mar­ry'd.

I hope, Albisinda, you'll excuse me, if for the first Night I draw the Curtain, and hide her Maiden blushes, when the hasty Youth took her in his Arms, trembl'd with the apprehension of his coming Joy, spoke in soft whispers, yet scarce knew what he said, and the beating of his Heart exprest the eagerness of his Soul. When breathless on her panting Breasts he lay, strove to be again blest, and again sunk beneath the weight of the excessive Pleasure; or better to express it, when Love (too prodigally kind) gave him Heaven by the bulk, without a strength of Mind adapted to the Blessing. To paint the Joys of both were too much, let this suffice, They lov'd, and were marry'd with consent of Friends. The Days now seem'd Hours, or ra­ther lesser Scenes of happiness than the more wel­come Night; and in the morning (tho' divided) each of them thought they yet felt the fast em­braces of the other, and could hardly think themselves unlockt; so vigorously had the re­membrance of the Soul's past Joys imprinted it self upon the consenting active Body. But this fair Weather was not of perpetual Duration, a Cloud hover'd in the Air, thickned on a sudden, and in time eclips'd the shining happiness of both.

Fidelia, a Lady whose Wit and Humour had made her (from a mean Station) the exalted Mi­stress of a kind Monarch, had come (as usually she did once a Day) to see the young Dutchess. They were both addicted to gaming (a Diversion, Al­bisinda, rarely known to the Ladies of your [Page 13] Country) and having plaid some time at Cards, they resolv'd to visit the Centura, (with us call'd a Play-house) where desiring to pass Incognito, they drest for the purpose, and a little after the Play was begun, they appear'd in the side Boxes. Their Cloaths and Air drew the Eyes of a full Audience, and the Actors themselves were so much surpris'd, they scarce remember'd one Cue of twenty, and were oblig'd to the care of the Prompter for every Sentence they spoke, who himself had been incapable of rendering that timely Service, if his Seat had fronted either the Stage or Pit. The most daring of the Beaus ad­vanc'd, and tho' they judg'd them of Quality, yet since they were Maskt, they thought that, without being guilty of ill manners, they might attacque them. Amongst those the Duke shew'd himself none of the least forward, and Fidelia (who was freer than the more modest Eriphile) was the one he assaulted; she fail'd not to en­tertain him kindly, and the Dutchess (who would not baulk the Adventure so oddly begun) took up with the first that offer'd himself. He was a handsom Youth, and knew how to address a Lady as well as any Man in the World. The Dutchess was very well pleas'd with his Wit and Conversation, she already lov'd this invisible way of intriguing, and thought it within a degree of goddessship to be pray'd to unseen. The Duke (who was young and naturally amorous) spent the hours very agreeably, and form'd a Beauty to himself like that of his fam'd Eriphile, yet propos'd only this satisfaction to himself, that to see her robb'd of modesty would serve to en­dear [Page 14] that which himself possest, with constant Virtue joyn'd.

When the Curtain was dropt, the Dutchess ey'd Fidelia, as if wholly ignorant what to do; she had rely'd on her; and she (who was all Gaiety and Mirth, and knew well enough how to come off) gave the Duke her Hand, and hav­ing seated themselves in the Coach, drove to some noted Tavern not far off. When they en­ter'd the Room, the Duke humbly begg'd the Lady would unmask, Erinthus (for that was his Name who waited upon the Dutchess) did the same, and both their unknown Mistresses were almost forc'd to cry out in their own defence, or chuse to undergo a quick discovery; but our Gallants perceiving they were obstinate, were at last fatisfied with their Fortunes. 'Twas an odd freak on both sides, and enough to move any Man's smiles, had he seen how earnestly they talkt, swore, prais'd and lov'd what yet they had not seen. The Duke was charm'd with the wit of his unknown Mistress, and Eriphile felt those emotions which she ne're had known, but when she first saw the godlike Entheon. At last they betook themselves to Cards, where (at Pickquet) Erinthus won fifty Pieces from the Dutchess; she readily paid him, and this confirm'd him in what he almost before believ'd, that she was of Quality. This put him upon his guard, in­spir'd him with care to please; he assum'd a new Air, and shew'd so much it seems of Gallan­try, that the yielding Eriphile was perfectly charm'd.

The Clock at last (having struck twelve) [Page 15] sounded a Retreat, and they began to think of their respective concerns. The Lovers begg'd they'd allow them the Honour of waiting upon them to their Lodgings; 'twas readily granted, and the Coach being call'd, 'twas as readily put in Execution. The Dutchess had given the Coach-man private Orders to drive to her House, and the Duke, whose mind was much imploy'd, ne're examin'd the place till he found himself in his own Bed chamber. As he was about to ex­press his surprise, Eriphile and Fidelia unmaskt. Erinthus first begg'd Pardon for his rude mistake, and Entheon, (after he had rouz'd his disorder'd Judgment) smil'd, and askt the Dutchess if what he had done, gave her any cause to suspect his Faith, and hop'd Fidelia's Wit excus'd him for spending so much time in her Company, when he had thought his Wife at home. Eriphile smil'd too, and faintly answer'd, if Fidelia please she can easily Charm, for Wit and Beauty joyn'd can ne're assault a generous Heart in vain. The Duke was surpris'd with this cold return, and 'tis certain the lovely Dutchess ne're had us'd him so before; she was not now Jealous, nor had she any Reason to fear the loss. But Erinthus already appear'd too Charming, and truth is, it seems he had something about him very taking, and singularly agreeable, for he had before that time atack'd a Lady of the same Rank, and had not fail'd of the success desir'd.

You may wonder perhaps, Albisinda, why I am not more particular in my Character of this Man; but to satisfie some part of your Curiosity, know, he owes his Birth to Burgoa, a Common-Wealth rais'd by Trade, their industry, and the [Page 16] easiness of their prouder Neighbours, to a height unlookt for, surmounting in Wealth those very States or Kingdoms, from whom some Years ago they kneeling begg'd Protection. Love and Gallantry are Strangers to the Nation, many of their Souls are as Phlegmatick as their Bodies, and most of them look like Machines or rather walk­ing Tuns. His Parents were forc'd to pursue a mean imployment to purchase a livelihood, and the now fortunate Lover, when young, left his Country in a Post suitable to his Quality and Education. But having learnt in Armenis (what was by no means to be found at home) some­thing of a better Air, and the easie smooth way of speaking peculiar to the Language of that more Polite Nation, he quickly found Prefer­ment. They are naturally kind enough to Strangers, and the advantages of his Person (which Nature it seems design'd not for a Bur­goan) conduc'd not a little to his good Fortune. That he was a lucky Gamester may appear from this, that in a very short time he purchas'd an Estate, and became a Companion to those of the best Quality in Sindalon. Entheon us'd gaming as a wise Man ought to do, that is, for his Pleasure; he always play'd without Heat, lost Cheerfully, and rarely laid down too much to be dispos'd of by Fortune, remembring always how much of madness it shew'd, to put that to a hazard which before was his own.

This accidental meeting already mention'd, gain'd him the Honour of the Duke's acquaint­ance; you may believe then, Albisinda, that for the future he was no stranger to his House; they spent whole Days together, and Night her self [Page 17] could sometimes hardly part them. Eriphile was always pleas'd when he was present, and lan­guish'd for his absence. 'Tis true, her Virtue was yet strong, and she struggl'd with the grow­ing Passion, hid her griefs with Art, and in her Eyes exprest an easier Soul. When she play'd, her thoughts even then were hardly fix'd on Game, nor could she truely grudge the fortu­nate Erinthus a double Victory.

The Youth already observ'd his coming hap­piness, and by his industry to please, advanc'd that Heaven he wish'd for. 'Tis impossible, when alone to express her pains, she saw how much she lov'd, and from her yielding Heart could judge her Honour lost. Entheon still was kind, she knew his Merit, and fain would yet be just; but powerful Love, with double force assails, and scatters virtue's Charms that stop his way. Nor can he walk with Judgment who was always Blind.—Oh Albisinda! that this charming Fair, at last betray'd her Marriage Vows, is not be disputed. But to say, she fell without a noble Contest, were too much. No Woman e're knew more, or was Mistress of bet­ter Inclinations, she was sensible of her Errour, even when she drew the Guilt upon her; and in his Arms (although she lov'd) could have wish'd her Soul fled to save her sinking Honour. The World has more than common Charity for the fair Eriphile, and some People scruple not to affirm, she yielded e're she knew she had done so. The Story, Albisinda, is in this place known to all, and (even by those who pretend to an exact knowledge in the state of Affairs relating [Page 18] relating to this amour) for a truth believ'd. And it runs thus,

The Duke it seems had long profest a more than common tenderness for the lovely Daria, a Maid generously educated, and of a noble Spirit, to her Mistress just, nor to her self unkind. No allurements could prevail, no present found ac­ceptance, and the weakness of her Nature was always supported by the strength of her Virtue. But the Duke growing at last importunate, and obstinately kind, she found it too hard to pre­serve Honour and his Friendship too. In this pressing juncture she resolv'd to abandon the Fa­mily, and after she had with Tears in her Eyes told the Dutchess, that an affair of Consequence required her absence, humbly begg'd she'd make her happy in her Consent.

Her Mistress was too sensible of her Merit, to lose her without Reluctancy, and said to her, that if she was any way disoblig'd she should have immediate satisfaction; nor would she give her Consent, unless she were first acquainted with those Reasons that mov'd her departure. Daria wept, and on her Knees conjur'd her not to urge, what if betray'd would give her Pains unknown. This instead of satisfying, encreas'd the Dutchess Curiosity, and she was at last oblig'd to disclose the whole.

Poor Eriphile was Thunder-struck with the unwelcome Relation. Her Heart 'tis true alrea­dy was unfix'd, and she had those thoughts for Erinthus, which spoke him too much Master of her Soul. Yet she lov'd the nobler Entheon, or at least esteem'd him so much, that she could [Page 19] not even in thought consent to lose him. In this afflicting affair her Wit or Invention at last offer'd this relief, which she propos'd as the only means to confirm the Duke her own, and pre­serve her Daria too. The Maid was seemingly to yield, to make an assignation, and that done she was to leave what follow'd to Eriphele's Care and Management. This was as soon per­form'd as projected, for the faithful Maid (whose Beauties were better'd by her new Griefs) was that Day more strongly assaulted than ever, and she could do no less than make an Appointment. Two in the Morning was the hour agreed upon, and you may easily believe Entheon thought it an Age till Night. In the Afternoon Erinthus came to see him, of whose Company he was at that time more than ever desirous. To Cards they went, where the pleasures of Love were for a while forgot, and Game and Wine the busi­ness of both.

In the mean time, the Dutchess (willing to enjoy what was for her Maid design'd) took possession of Daria's Bed, and with much im­patiency waited the Duke's coming. The hour at last appear'd, but Entheon (whither indispos'd by drinking, sudden conscientious qualms, or sitting up beyond his usual hour, I know not) felt no great inclination to the Combat. This freak, Albisinda, is indeed unanswerable, espe­cially if you weigh the Conduct of this great Man; but 'tis confidently affirm'd that he ac­quainted Erinthus with the Intrigue. Told him, he found himself at that time unfit for the Field, and that if he pleas'd, he might supply his Place. The forunate Youth was ravish'd with the kind [Page 20] offer, and told the Duke, that since he was on­ly to fight for the first Blood, he was proud of the service enjoyn'd him▪ In short, Entheon conducted him to the Chamber door, which stood open on purpose for himself, and there left him.

The Youth found the Bed in the dark, and I suppose (without the help of a Candle) found the Dutchess too. She receiv'd him, as she'd have done her Husband, and if she found him richer in his Love, she attributed the Cause to liberal Fancy, that form'd her new, and of a stale Wife made a tender young Mistress. How e're it was, they remain'd not long in the state of Ignorance, and each of them wonder'd why the other was silent; for tho' Erinthus would pass for Entheon, and Eriphile would for a time be Daria, yet the first Joys and transports fled, she began to distinguish the Lover from the Husband, and trembling said, My dear Enthe­on, why have you us'd me thus? I have been Daria, and under that Name much happier than my own. Ev'n when she spoke she doub­ted the truth, and us'd these words, only to be confirm'd in her Opinion. The Lover was ra­vish'd, the place on a sudden was converted in­to a new Heaven, and he only griev'd, that much of his past Happiness was lost, by being so long ignorant of the value of that treasure he had possess'd. New Love, new Wishes, rouze him up to Life, and e're he spoke he would be blest again. Eriphile 'twixt fear and hope again receiv'd him, and even in his Arms could hardly know whether she wish'd him En­theon or not.

At last the fortunate Youth confess'd himself, told her that Chance and the Duke's kindness had made him happy, but she alone could keep him in that state. That he had long ador'd her, and bountiful love had now repay'd his pains; that his happiness should be conceal'd from all the World, and her Honour was now as secure, as if in Entheon's Arms she fainting lay. A Crime when first committed is of greatest weight, and frequent repetitions render those things familiar and seemingly innocent, which we at first view'd with reluctancy and horror, for a small sin past without grief, speaks us in a fair way towards a greater. The Dutchess 'tis true lov'd, and by his Voice knew the happy Man: But then she remembred the loss of her honour, saw how far she had fall'n, and trembled when she look'd back upon the frightful Precipice. She call'd to mind the Duke's past Love, those thoughts she had for him, when first he sound her lying in the Grove, and knew his merit nothing yet dimi­nish'd. This my dear Albisinda gave the Fair One some pains, for tho' her Nature had given consent, her Soul was yet Virtuous; and had Erinthus seen those Tears she shed, all thoughts of Joy had vanish'd from his Breast, grief had disarm'd his eager wishes, and impotency by pi­ty brought, had supply'd the place of vigorous Love. But, Albisinda, 'twas in the dark, the Curtains drawn, they were alone, both lov'd and both forgot their Cares; you may easily be­lieve he had his share; for tho' he was a Burgoan that is, a Man whose Conscience would never baulk his business, if attended with pleasure or profit, yet he had some faint remembrance of [Page 22] that injustice he did to a Man, who had forgot his mean Birth, made him a Companion and sharer in his pleasures, and had (or at least thought so) bestow'd that Prize upon him, (in the seeeming possession of Daria) which he him­self had sought for many Months. In a word, all complaints were hush'd; the Dutchess forgot what once she was, what yet she ought to have been, and own'd her Love was stronger than her Virtue.

When the Youth retir'd, her Cares again en­creas'd, she griev'd a loss she could not then re­trieve, and wept and wish'd the business still un­done. These indeed were the first motions of her primitive Soul; but Love again brought it to a modern Constitution, she consider'd how se­curely she had enjoy'd the Man she lov'd, and flatter'd her self with the thoughts of being real­ly innocent, because the World yet thought her so, and believ'd the manner in which it happen­ed extenuated the Crime. In the mean time, the Duke had waited the return of his Friend, (if now I may call him so) and smiling ask'd, how happy he had been. Erinthus gave him a thousand thanks for that Testimony he had re­ceiv'd of his Friendship, but told the Adventure with so much indifferency, that Entheon could hardly grudge that favour he had bestow'd upon him. When he went to Bed, he was yet insen­sible of his loss, Eriphile was all lovely, and that Crime against his Love he had almost committed, endear'd the Object of his wishes more, than all her wonted Charms, or native goodness. He found her melancholy greater than usual, and griev'd that she was not so kind as she used to be, [Page 23] earnestly ask'd the cause, and to comfort her, swore, that he had that Noble Love for her, which our first Father bore to his lovely Eve, e're Hell debauch'd her. She gave him feign'd returns, alledg'd she was indispos'd, begg'd his Pardon for her seeming indifferency, and faintly said, she did belive he Lov'd her. The kind Duke was satisfied, and in a few Minutes the Cares of both were swallowed up in sleep.

This account, Albisinda, is by some rejected, and your busie Medlers, or News-pimps, who pretend to know every thing, confidently affirm, that Erinthus had won so much from her at Cards, she was necessarily oblig'd to pay the Sum with a favour that might have been the price of Empire.

Next day he came to wait upon the injur'd Duke (or rather the kind Dutchess) and forgot not to improve every opportunity to the Advan­vantage of his Love. In a little time he became too happy, or at least too often so; and if the generous Entheon had in the least suspected the Fair Eriphile's weakness, or his Friendship, their guilt had been too obvious. His Noble Con­fidence made him too secure, till an Adven­ture that hapened some time after, taught them more caution, and him more of Jealou­sie.

The Duke it seems was oblig'd to attend the King, who then kept his Court twenty Miles from Clusa. The Dutchess knew of it the pre­ceeding Night, and had therefore order'd every thing necessary for the reception of her Lover. Her Husband took Coach about Eight next Morning, and Erinthus was to wait upon her [Page 24] Grace at three in the Afternoon. She thought every hour had borrow'd from Eternity, and griev'd she had delay'd her happiness so long. She sighing lay upon the yielding Bed, and un­der the Modish covert of a sudden indisposition, occasion'd by a Cold she ne're had felt, avoided the unseasonable Visits of her troublesome Friends. Daria was alone privy to the intrigue, and tho' she had all that respect for the Dutchess, which her Duty in the strictest sense could exact from her; yet she griev'd to find her Virtue so much weakned, and wish'd her innocent as when first she knew her. Eriphile had the goodness to excuse her self as handsomely as she could, Painted her Lover drest with all his graces about him, and show'd the power of subtle Love, in words that spoke her knowing in the Mystery. Poor Daria sigh'd as if she had felt those pains of which her Mistress spoke, and by her looks con­fess'd her inward griefs. The Dutchess careful­ly observ'd her frequent change of colour, and the flushing of her disorder'd Blood, and ask'd, if Love had ever led her Captive. The tender Maid blush'd, and by her silence confest the truth of what her Mistress had often much sus­pected. She charg'd her upon her allegiance, as she would preserve her esteem, and make her think she lov'd her, she would relate the whole and by the story of her Love divert her melan­choly, till the arrival of the fortunate Erinthus. Daria excus'd her self from the performance as well as she could; but seeing 'twas not ac­ceepted, she sigh'd, was some minutes silent, and addressing her self to the Dutchess, began as fol­loweth.

YOU know, Madam, I was born in Scar­ronida, your sister Nation and of the same Religion with your selves, a hardy Warlike Peo­ple, yet no Strangers to Love, and tho' we lye North from Armenis, and by our bounds make up the half of the Island, yet we seem nearer the Torrid Zone than you. My Father was a Gentleman very much esteem'd, and tho' his Fortune did not prefer him to that height his Soul always aim'd at, yet his humour and agreeable Conversation, made him the darling of his grea­ter Neighbours, and he match'd with an ancient Family rich in Friends, and every way truly preferable to his own. I was the first and last pledge of their Loves, and was ever doated upon by those who saw me, for that resemblance I had of the Fair Julietta, (for that was my Mother's name) and Aristeon (my kind Father) esteem'd his Young Daughter even beyond Life or Em­pire. He sought Wealth only to bless me in a Noble Marriage, and with secret Pride already ey'd my growing Beaury. Our Neighbour in the Country, the great Dion, who (tho' a pri­vate Gentleman) can for the service of his Prince muster an Army of his own Vassals and Depen­dants, to the number of some thousands, had a Son whom all the World esteem'd, whom many Beauties sigh'd for, and none attackt with suc­cess. I was then in the sixteenth Year of my Age, and tho' I had often seen him and heard him prais'd, yet my Heart had ne're submitted to his Charms.

That Friendship which was between my Fa­ther and his, drew them often together, and the generous Dion has sometimes spent whole Weeks [Page 26] at our House. It hapened once, that while he rode a Hunting, and eager in the Chase, his Horse fell down a sloping Bank, and bruis'd his hardy Rider. Aristeon was much concern'd for this Misfortune, and immediately sent for his Son. The handsom Youth came to our House with Tears in his Eyes, and mourn'd over his Aged Father, with the tenderness of a weeping. Mother, that griev'd the loss of her darling in­fant. There was so much of the Man mixt with a Woman's softness in his pains, that I could not chuse but observe it. I was insensibly pleas'd with every word he spoke, and sighing wish'd I had had a Brother like him. His Cares for the old Man brought mine, and I could have wept for Dion, more earnestly than when first he got his Wounds. The Young Odmar (for so he was call'd) took notice of my Cares, and from my Tenderness and Compassion, argu'd the easi­ness of my Soul. I shall not, Madam, praise my own Beauty; but he has afterwards told me, that the softness I then show'd, reach'd his Heart, and from small griefs wound him to Pity, and tho' he had no cause much to sorrow for me, yet my pains to him show'd double, and from Com­passion drew him up to Love.

I was one evening walking in the Garden, disorder'd in my thoughts, and examining my self to find if that uneasiness I knew proceeded from my Love to Odmar. But as I began the scrutiny, he enter'd, who alone could confirm the truth of what I fear'd. I trembl'd as he ap­proach'd, wish'd him gone, yet lov'd to see him stay, and scarce could tell what thoughts possest my Heart. The Lovely Youth soon apologiz'd [Page 27] for intruding upon my Retirement, and you may easily imagine how readily I forgave him.

There was a pleasant River at the back of the Garden-wall, and beyond that a spacious Green, where feeding Flocks attend the Shep­herd▪s call, forget their present wants, and listen to the lov'd Musick of his tuneful Pipe. There labouring Swains when toils out-strip the Day, Dance with the Maids they Love, and cheat those pains by cruel labour brought. The Gard'ner it seems had by chance left the Back-door open, and there being a Tarrass walk upon the top of the Bank, we resolv'd from thence to view the open Fields. The Water murmur'd beneath us, and the little Fishes wanton'd in the Streams. The set­ing Sun lookt back on that vast trackt he had left behind him, griev'd to lose that prospect once he had, and as he stoop'd beneath the veil of Night, rouz'd up himself with eagerness, and by a flash of new born Light, would gild the distant Mountains. Just so a Lover when he quits the Shoar, with trouble views the Mistress of his Vows, longs to be nigh, yet still he slides away, and when he's almost banish'd from her sight, he stands aloft and glads her from afar, and by his gestures shows he fain would stay. In a word, Madam, the place and the Company very much charm'd me, and I felt that painful joy at my Heart, which speaks us sick with Love. Amongst other things, I askt Odmar, if his Fa­ther's pains were yet abated, if he hop'd a speedy recovery, and told him, that tho' I was proud of his Company, yet I could not chuse but grieve the occasion that brought us so often together. [Page 28] Madam, reply'd he) I cannot be so happy in this World, as when I am in Aristeon 's House, and yet I think it fatal to me, for as the Father's pains decrease, the Sons are still augmented, and those torments that opprest the old Man's body, are doubly charg'd upon the young Man's Soul. I blush'd as he spoke, and so many crowding thoughts fill'd my Breast, I was unable from the confus'd heap to produce one to serve the pre­sent exigency. My unseasonable silence shew'd I understood his Language too well, and had be­fore thought of (nay it may be wish'd for) what I heard.

Odmar read his good Fortune in my Eyes, and (willing to make use of the lucky Minute) threw himself at my Feet, conjur'd me to re­member that his Life and Fortune depended on what I was about to say, that one kind word gave him Heaven, and my anger made him the unhappiest of Men. That 'twas impossible for him to live without me, and he'd forfeit every thing he held dear on Earth, for the greater blessing of my Love.—His fears, Madam, were vain, I esteem'd him too much to give him more of Pain, and reply'd in Terms that spoke him not indifferent to my Soul. Had your Grace seen his looks, when he found me so calm, in spite of all your Modesty you would have doated on him, and I dare say 'twas impossi­ble for Woman to have us'd him otherwise than I did.

Dion at last recover'd, and I must say, tho' I wish'd him well, I griev'd his Health restor'd, 'cause by his absence I was robb'd of Odmar. Our parting yet presents it self to my view, and [Page 29] I see the lovely Youth drown'd in Melancholy, asham'd of his weakness, yet weeping as he spoke. His House was but three Miles from ours. I bid him remember that Conveniency, and propos'd an Enterview at least once a Week. The Youth (who was o rejoy'd to find me so kind, and in­dulgent to his flame) was almost dumb with ex­tasie, and swore he ne're could Merit any part of that Goodness I had shown; and that his Life was not of worth enough to repay my stock of Love.

When he was gone, methought I yet saw him, heard him, felt his soft kisses, and gaz'd upon the Phantom. My tender Heart could hardly bear the burden of a long Weeks absence. A thousand times I trac'd the Tarrass walk, and if from afar I espy'd ought that resembl'd Hu­mane Kind, I long'd and wish'd it him. Odmar shar'd in ev'ry thought, and my Father's House lookt runious, dead and decay'd, since the de­parture of the sprightly Youth. I remembred every word he spoke, when first he swore he Lov'd, and cur'st the hour that took him from my Sight. I blush not, Madam, to say, no Wo­man ever lov'd like Daria, and no Man e're me­rited more than Odmar.

To avoid Discovery, I was to meet him a Mile from our House, the River already men­tion'd which run by the Garden, chalk'd out my way, and I went along upon the dewy Banks, and shaded from the Sun by spreading Oaks. When we met 'was impossible for either of us to express our Joys: We gaz'd, sigh'd, and em­brac'd, as if our Souls had joyn'd; griev'd that time flew too fast, and wish'd the Minutes Years. [Page 30] What e're he said was welcome to my mind, and tho' I listned to his Voice, with all the pleasure of a ravish'd Maid, yet I often broke the thread of his Discourse, by asking a thousand little kind yet insignificant Questions, because like him I'd show how much I lov'd. Thus have we spent a few short hours, then griev'd and parted, tho' never before we had fix'd the Day for our next Enterview. At this time we rail'd at Fortune and our Stars, and mourn'd we could not meet to stay for ever. But had we known the com­ing ill, we'd then have judg'd our selves truly happy.

My Father it seems had often miss'd me, and found by constant Observation that I was ab­sent twice every Week, and always at the same hours. He knew not at first what to think of this adventure, he dreamt not of Odmar, and won­der'd much that I should walk abroad alone. 'Tis true he had taken notice of my Melancholy, tho' ignorant of the Cause, and was now afraid that I began to humour that weakness of the mind, which so often proves fatal to the Beauty and the Judgment of its Slave, knowing that while we humble the mind too far, we sink the body quite. But then again considering my Years, my few Cares (unless I lov'd) his and my Mother's kindness to me, he could hardly Credit that thought; to rid himself therefore of his doubts, he resolv'd to watch me narrowly for the future, and in person make a true and wish'd discovery of the hidden secret.

The early Day drove on the yielding Night, and as the latter fled, the first in view appear'd, proud of the Conquest, and growing in his [Page 31] strength. The happier gods lay stretcht upon their Beds, and loath to rise, rais'd up their awe­ful Heads, look'd down, and shuffl'd by the thicker Clouds, to see if busie mortals yet were stirring, but viewing the dark and solitary Globe, they shrinkt again beneath the covert of the Night half fled, and clos'd up the Gape of Heaven to wait the arrival of the marching Day. In a word, Madam, 'twas very early in the morning when I arose, and took that road which led me to my Love. My Father follow'd me so close, that unseen he posted himself behind a Bush, hard by that shade where gentle Odmar lay. When I appear'd, the Youth arose and caught me in his Arms. Oh welcome to my Breast, (he cry'd) my beauteous generous Daria! What Love can repay this favour, or what words express my boundless Joy. When all the World sleeps, we two are awake, and kind Da­ria robs her self of rest to ease her Odmar from the pains of absence. Aristeon who saw how fa­miliarly he embrac'd me, and distinctly heard every word he spoke, was strangely surpris'd, and wish'd himself in the other World, that he might be insensible of that affront he already thought done him in this; and doubted not but I was born for his ruine, and the disgrace of his Fami­ly. He was a Man, Madam, rigorously good, and lov'd me very tenderly; from this you may easily imagine the troubles of his Mind, and with what difficulty he contain'd himself. While Odmar spoke, I had felt a sudden trembling at my Heart, new-born fears oppress'd my easie Soul, and I was sick with the apprehension of some coming danger, yet could not foresee how, [Page 32] or from whence the dreaded ill should come The young Man was sensibly afflicted with the unlookt for change, threw himself at my Feet, and sighing cry'd. O my Daria whence this new coldness to the Man that Loves you! You have been kind, I have been more happy and—A risteon no longer doubting what before he much had fear'd, with fury in his looks eppear'd. He continued some time silent, his passion denying him the liberty of speaking, or it may be he waited till his heat abated, and his judgment should take place. My surprise, Madam, is not to be painted in words, and kind Odmar griev'd and look'd on me. My Father look'd stedfastly upon me, and taking me by the Hand, which eagerly he graspt, he calmly but resolv'dly said, Well, well, Daria, you have undone your self, and banish'd ease from me. My misfortune comes from that side from whence I least ex­pected any unkindness, and Odmar wrongs that Man, that would have laid down his Life for his or Dion's service. Ah! Why did he ask? or why did you consent? Iv'e no comfort now, but that the tender Julietta is yet ignorant of her Daughter's weakness. My Lover was so amaz'd, he knew not what to say. But falling on his Knees he embrac'd those of Aristeon, and at last swore by all the Powers above, he never yet de­sign'd him any harm, and that his Daughter was Virtuous ev'n to a fault. But if innocent Love, or chast mutual flames were crimes, he own'd we both were guilty, and deserv'd his anger. Daria's Birth (continued he) is in nothing infe­riour to Odmar's; and if my Fortune surmounts hers, her Virtue turns the scale, and with her [Page 33] Beauty joyn'd, weighs more than Dion's Wealth, or all the glorious riches of the Indies. My Father with Tears in his Eyes rais'd him from the ground, and again taking me by the Hand, Come, come, Daria, (said he) these are fine Baits to catch Fools and ignorant easie Maids withal. Odmar, for your Father's sake I cease to resent this injury as I ought, tho' you have hurt me in the most tender part. She has been kind, you have been happy: But neither of you shall be so again, and now you part for ever. This said, he turn'd his face and mine away, and curs'd the hour brought Odmar to our House▪ To have seen the afflicted Lover, (for I would look back) would have baffl'd all the Precepts of Philosophy, and turn'd the strongest Reason and most fortified Judgment into downright madness. My Soul was in a perfect frenzy, and I could have rail'd against Heaven and Nature, and damn'd that wanton slippery minute that gave me first a being.

When we came home, I retir'd to my Cham­ber. To tell you my thoughts, Madam, were to undertake an imployment that yet would di­stract me. I consider'd my loss, my indiscreet management, my poor Father's grief, and by his concern and Love for me, soon found, that I ought not to have done any thing of that con­sequence without his knowledge and consent. I remembred his Tears, his silence by the way (for he had not spoke one word to me upon the Road) the words my Lover utter'd, which might give him just grounds to suspect my frailty. But most of all I remembred my afflicted Odmar; methought I yet saw him speaking to my Father, yet eying [Page 34] me, and scarce Master of his Judgment, so much for me he fear'd.

My Mother wonder'd she had not seen me all that day, and enquiring for me of Aristeon, she was told I kept my Chamber, that he had spoke some things to me, which tho' not harsh in themselves, yet had brought my Tears; and de­sir'd her to assure me, that he was again pleas'd, and pardon'd what could not be recall'd, if for the future I forbore to offend in that kind. Ju­lietta desir'd he'd impart the cause of this little quarrel, and told him, she was afraid he had been unjust to me, because she knew I dreaded to dis­please him. Besides, she was confident my Na­ture led me not to any thing, that in the least look'd like disobedience. My Father said he knew 'twas so, and that he was sorry for what he had said. You see, Madam, he had the ten­derness of a Kind Parent, and the goodness of a Just Husband. He already forgot (as much as possible) what he had heard and seen; my Tears had melted him, and after he had seriously ex­amin'd Odmar's words, the hopes of finding me truly innocent yet chear'd his Soul, and by quick degrees had rais'd him up to better, kinder thoughts. To Julietta he was just in the con­cealment of what had brought her too many fears; and to show the goodness of his humour, from my infancy I observ'd, that he had the tender­ness of a Young Lover for her, study'd to please, as if he yet courted her esteem; she was a Mi­stress and a Wife, and never griev'd without a constant sharer.

When she came to see me, she found my de­clining Head supported by my Arm, I was half [Page 35] asleep, my sorrows having wearied out my active thoughts, and burden'd yielding Nature; unwilling to awake me, she was about to retire, when her hasty steps prevented all her cares, and rouz'd me till I started from my Lethargy. I doubted not but that Aristeon had fully inform'd her of what had past, and throwing my self at her feet, conjur'd her to believe me innocent, swore I ne're had yielded even in thought; that the gen'rous kind Odmar had a better opinion of my Virtue, than to think of, or propose a thing that would have given me cause eternally to hate him. That I was faulty in nothing but in con­cealing a Secret of that weight from my Father and her. But that I should attone for that Crime by my future Conduct.

Julietta was much startled with what she heard, but being of a ready Wit, easily conceal'd her past ignorance, and pleasantly ask'd me why A­risteon was incens'd against Odmar? If you con­ceal'd it (added she) where was the Crime? Come, tell me all again, for I'm afraid your Fa­ther was byass'd by his Passion when he inform'd me of the Adventure.—You may believe, Madam, I fail'd not to obey, and thereupon gave her a true account of every thing that concern'd my Love, and that discovery Aristeon had made. While I told the Story I could observe strange changes and alterations in her looks. By turns, she ey'd me with concern, anger, fear, joy, and grief. However the relation once ended, she threw her Arms about my Neck, wept with the sudden transport of indulgent thoughts, and as­sur'd me she had fear'd much my weakness, 'cause I yet was Young. But that now all her fears [Page 36] were vanish'd, and she believ'd me Virtuous. That Aristeon had conceal'd from her what had hapned that day, yet had sent her to inform me, that he forgave me all. This, Madam, gave me a double joy, and I could hardly forbear laughing when I consider'd my past thoughts, my fears, and that ugly face my dejected fancy had given to my Fortune, and now saw that which I had industriously form'd to encrease my own pain, in half a minute vanish'd. I thank'd Julietta for her tenderness and that good opinion she had of me, and just as I spoke Aristeon en­ter'd. He had left me in Tears, and the fond­ness of his Nature made him impatient till in some measure he had restor'd my peace of mind. Da­ria (said he) you see I'm a kind Father, and tho' you have offended, I come to sue for Par­don, and am pleas'd to confess I wrong'd you Come my Dear, for the future let us have no cause for just complaints from either side, and let m [...] hope that you truly deserve that good opinion [...] have of you. My Mother said she'd answer in my behalf, for tho' I had been weak, yet she wa [...] perswaded Odmar had a greater respect for him than to attempt the dishonouring of his Daugh­ter. Ha! (cry'd Aristeon) then my Julietta you have found the occasion of our quarrel? Ye [...] (reply'd she) and am sorry you made a Secret o [...] what all the World may know, without prejudice [...] to her Honour or that of our House. Aristeon said, that at first his fears were it may be too great, but now his mind was at rest, and I could only keep him so by my solemn promise before Julietta, never to see Odmar or to Love him more. This, Madam, was a hard proof of my [Page 37] Obedience, and at first I was very much surpris'd with the proposal. But suddenly remembring that 'twas no mortal sin if I should see my Lover afterwards; I gave the proof of allegiance de­sir'd, and engag'd never to converse with him again, unless one or both of them were pre­sent.

Thus, Madam, the storm I so much fear'd blew over, my sin of Love was forgot, and I absolv'd for a performance of the penance en­joyn'd me. How far I play'd the Penitent, you may easily judge by what follow'd in a very few days.

Dion came to our House (as he us'd to do) attended by two or three Servants. Methought I had a more than common interest in them, and could hardly forbear testifying so much to his very Slaves. I ey'd them with a passion that is not easily to be exprest, for I cannot positively say that I hop'd for any thing from them, and yet my mind gave me, that Odmar had (it might be) spoke to some of them, and if he had not written to me, at least commanded them to ob­serve my Eyes, and afterwards inform him if there they saw any signs of Languishment or Sorrow for his absence. In each of their Faces (for from my Window I could see them playing in the Court,) methought I read my own mis­fortune, remembred that next night they would be with Odmar, yet were insensible of he hap­piness, and almost dy'd with grief, when I thought the Dear Youth had not sent me any Mark of his continued Love.

In this dejected humour I retir'd; left the old People together, and in the Garden sought for [Page 38] ease where first I lost it. Rigd, (for that was the Name of one of the Servants) follow'd at a di­stance, and taking an Alley which cross'd that in which I walk'd, he met me as if chance had led him. You may believe, Madam, I was plea­santly enough surpris'd when he gave me a Let­ter, and smiling told me, his Young Master had been Post to himself, if Dion had not prevented him. When I received it, I scarce knew what to say; and I must confess I had not Art enough to hide my inward Joy. Having opened it, I found these words:

How much I lov'd, and how this Letter was receiv'd, may appear from my Answer. Which was to this purpose, if my memory serves me.

The Lodge much resembl'd a Pavilion, 'twas stor'd with Books and Pictures, and from the Window one might see three Rivers joyn into one Body; and falling from a mighty precipice in view, you'd thought they shak'd the very Floor on which you stood. The bubling and hollow noise of the greater stream provok'd your Melancholy, and fed the Lamp of Love. I had of late much frequented that place, I kept the Key my self, and could not think of one more convenient for this stol'n enterview. 'Twas there I writ my Letter undiscover'd, and there resolv'd to meet my welcome Lover; my Fa­ther alone us'd to possess it, 'tis true; but on the other hand I remembred, that I had not seen him there for twelve long Months past. In a word, Madam, I thought the place very secure, and al­ready wish'd the Night gone, that stood like a heavy Age between me and my happiness. Me­thought I already saw the transported Youth begging at my Feet, melting my Heart, and [Page 40] conquering as he spoke. I dreamt of nothing but Odmar, or if I awak'd I scarce knew that I did so, for the lovely Image was so strongly im­printed, I knew not if my Judgment or my active Fancy form'd him.

When Day appear'd, the morning mov'd so faintly, you'd thought the lingring Night had dar'd him to the Combat, and vow'd the sole possession of the Skies. I quit my Bed so early, that from my Chamber Window I could not descry any thing awake but my self, a dead si­lence reign'd in every part, and not one watchful Bird yet welcom'd in the light, the yielding Grass lay cover'd o're with Dew, and the nodding Trees spoke Nature in a Slumber. To any but a Love-sick Maid, this had been no other than a melancholy Scene, and I must own that even to my self it appear'd no less. But from that me­lancholy my pleasure grew; Love in absence is naturally dejected and languishing, and I firmly believe (at least I think I felt it so) that when we are alone, and sad, the Fancy is stronger than when our Reason drives our Passions from our Breasts, and hardens the Soul, which Love or Grief before had melted down and made pli­ant for any impressions.

While thus I stood and thought of Odmar and the coming Night, I could see, (tho' with some difficulty a Man on Horse-back). I waited im­patiently till he approach'd, (for those who Love much hope ease from ev'ry thing) and at last knew him to be Dion and Odmar's Servant. After I had askt concerning his Master's health, and told him that I'd awake some of the Ser­vants to let him in, I stole gently down Stairs [Page 41] my self, and (changing my Voice to a sharper Key) desir'd to know if he had business with my Master? (meaning my Father) Riga (for 'twas he, and knew me not) answer'd no. He begg'd pardon for that disturbance he gave the Family, and said, he had lost yesterday some Papers of consequence, and was sure he had dropt them in our House, and to his best knowledge the last time he had them was in Daria's Chamber, when he waited upon his Master. This encreas'd my hopes, and I firmly believ'd 'twas a Plot of Od­mar's, and willing to be speedily resolv'd, I ask'd him (by way of a whisper) if he had not a Letter for my young Mistress. No, (said he in a seeming Passion) from whom should it come? Why (reply'd I) she writ to Odmar yesterday, and from him expected an Answer. Did she! (cry'd he) I know nothing of the matter, I came out early in search of my Paper, and am oblig'd by seven of the Clock to attend Dion, because this Day he goes a Hunting with some of his Neighbours. But pray (added he in another tone) Sweet heart, if 'tis possible let me into Daria's Chamber, for there I'm perswaded I shall find my Papers. I was vex'd, and knew not what to make of this Adventure. If my Father had seen me I had been undone. The fellow told me he had no Letter for me, yet wanted to be in my Room, and spoke the story of his Papers with so much gravity and earnestness, that I could hardly doubt the truth of what he said. Un­willing nevertheless to betray my own weakness, I still personated the Maid, and faintly told him that he might come softly up Stairs, and stay at the Door till I had receiv'd her Orders. He fol­low'd, [Page 42] and when I enter'd my Chamber I was even sick with grief, I wonder'd much that Odmar had not written to me, and thought, if he eager­ly had long'd to see me, he had slipt no oppor­tunity of telling me so, and of returning those thanks my too obliging Letter well deserv'd. However I was yet unwilling to condemn him, and to divert that pain the thoughts of his un­kindness brought me. I run immediately to the Door, where I had almost forgot the poor Servant; and Night being wholly fled, he could perceive by my morning Gown who it was then admit­ted him, and after a low Bow presented me with a Letter from Odmar. I've lost no Papers, Ma­dam, (said he) but you see I've presum'd to bring one, and from a Man who would renounce a year of that term of life allotted him by Destiny, to see you as securely now as I do. Riga's good con­duct and obliging Complement so prevail'd up­on my fluttering gladed Heart, that I could not for my life delay that. Reward he deserv'd till I opened the Letter. The faithful Servant thankt me for my bounty, desir'd me speedily to read what he had brought me, and assur'd me I should ever find him constant to his young Master's in­terest, tho' I had not ty'd him to it by my Li­berality. The words, Madam, If I remember well were these.

I consider'd this Letter as the effect of his Love, and the very product of his real Thoughts, and knew by his stile and freedom he had remembred 'twas in safe Hands, and would be with secresie enough convey'd to mine. However, lest the Servant's stay should have render'd his Errand li­able to suspicion I durst not write, and only bid him tell his Master. I was pleas'd with what he had sent me, but could give no immediate return, unless he hazarded a disapointment at Night, as undoubtedly 'twould come to pass, if I should be sus­pected in the morning, of holding any correspon­dence with my kind Odmar. The Servant with­drew, and I could see him mount his Horse er'e any in the Family were awake.

You may wonder, Madam, when you consi­der my reserv'd way of living, and coldness of Temper, how I was then so kind, and perhaps you may quarrel my fondness too, and that ex­pression my kind Odmar! But if your Grace consider my Years, and that my inclinations were Virtuous, methinks 'twill not appear strange [Page 44] or faulty; for in honest exalted Love there can be no Crime, and what e're we say of obliging and tender, is certainly pardonable, if we do it as we ought, which in the first place is to consider if we are truly belov'd, the merit and conduct of our Lovers, and most of all to do it privately and with caution; for even Crimes themselves (when we confess the truth) if done in secret, give not half that trouble to the mind, which publick Trifles bring. I read the Letter a thousand times, and in that imployment consum'd the te­dious Day. When the hour approach'd I felt those little pains to which I had been a stranger, or at least had not before that time thought of; I fear'd that if the Youth came too soon, my Fa­ther or some of the Servants might see him in the Fields, and if I should go to the Lodge before the hour prefix'd, I should be mist and search'd for. These thoughts made me very uneasie. How­ever the danger I fear'd from the last Accident was the least, and I ventur'd down into the Gar­den. I had no sooner opened the Door, than I found my hasty Lover muffled in his Cloak. The kind Youth caught me in his Arms. Oh my Da­ria! (cry'd he) I'm lost in extasie! Pardon me if I cannot express my thoughts, to Heav'n and you I owe so much, that I must still confess my self a Bankrupt. O thou dear darling of my Soul, for­give me if I have no more this goodness to repay, but life and constant Love. He was so welcome to my Breast, Madam, that I could say no more than, Oh my Odmar! What I wanted in words I supply'd in looks, and I dare say the happy young Man was pleas'd with all he saw.

When we went into the Lodge I lockt the Door behind me; you see Odmar, (said I) how much I Love, and the good opinion I have of you. Madam, (reply'd he) that's a Comple­ment I know not how to answer; for I'm afraid you'd think me faulty, if I said your Honour were secure and you were safe, because to mention that were to call my nobler Love in question. No Odmar, (said I) I would be very unhappy if I could in thought dispute the innocence of your Love or Mine; but I'm sorry that when I see you, I must be guilty of a breach of Promise. Ha, (cry'd he) is Aristeon then so much an Ene­my to my Love! It seems he doubts not your Virtue but my Treachery. But Daria he's un­just to me, for rather than wrong thee, I'd forfeit Life, Estate, or any thing yet dearer, nay by Heav'n I'd rather banish all my hopes of being Belov'd, never see thee more, and be for ever damn'd to absence from my greatest Blessing.—Yet Daria (for thou art all goodness) think of a way to redress this mighty ill, secure thy self, and ease thy Father of his fears, and if you Love, tye your self for ever mine. Oh my Daria! re­fuse me not that Heav'n I ask, our Parents soon will be reconcil'd, I shall yet (if possible) en­crease my stock of Love, thou shalt be more fond, and all that see us shall confess us truly happy.

Madam, I hope you will own 'twas hard for a young Maid, that lov'd well to keep a Medium 'twixt her Fears and Joys. His Fortune was in­finitely beyond mine, he knew his Father would be incens'd, and might perhaps from a kind Pa­rent become a cruel Enemy; all the World was sensible of his Merit, nor could he himself be ig­norant, [Page 46] that 'twas in his power to wed a greater Beauty and a larger fortune. When these thoughts fled, my sudden Cares took place, and I already saw him unfortunate and forsaken by his Friends, 'cause he was just to me. I saw his frowns in poverty, and an hourly decay in his Love; and methought I already heard the poor chang'd Odmar whispering in my Ear, I had been great, had I but lov'd thee less. This last thought stopt the hasty flight of my fond new fledg'd Soul, and it was not in my power to give an an­swer to what the Youth had said. My unusual si­lence equally mov'd his wonder and his fear, when throwing himself at my feet, Daria (said he) why do you use me thus? Oh remember 'tis Odmar speaks, 'tis the Man that Loves you, one that can ne're be happy without you, and thinks the Gods have not a gift to bestow upon their first Fav'rite a­mongst Mortals, like that I ask of you. Who can resist a kneeling Lover, Madam? I rais'd him in my Arms, and fondly, yet confus'dly told him, His Love and Honour made me wholly his, and I would be eternally rul'd by him. For now I gave my all into his hands. To tell you his Joy and the kind words he utter'd, were to renew the sense of my misfortunes. No man e're said more, no Woman e're believ'd more, or gave kinder yet more innocent returns, and no two Lovers e're confided more in one another, or were happier than we. When we had said all we could, we unwillingly were silent, and gaz'd upon one ano­ther, then began afresh, prais'd, lov'd, doated, sigh'd and languish'd. This happy Scene had banish'd all my Cares, I found my Odmar Just, and sought no other Blessing.

At last my discreet Lover kindly told me 'twas past twelve, conjur'd me to forgive him, because slipery Time had run away when he had seen his thoughts imploy'd. I was heartily vex'd that I had manag'd so ill; I saw how inconvenient 'twas for Odmar to travel at an hour so unseaso­nable, and yet knew my self necessarily oblig'd to leave him. In this disorder of thoughts I heard a noise in the Garden, and stealing softly to the Window, I could discern my Father with one or two Servants, enquiring earnestly of one another if they had yet seen me. I trembl'd when I heard my name pronounc'd, and my Lover was almost mad with grief because he saw me so. At last they came to the Door, where they knock'd a­loud, and receiving no answer, concluded I was in some other place, either dangerously ill with a sudden fit of sickness, or by some other accident unknown. My Father, to be better satisfied, commanded them to break open the Door, be­cause he said I might be there, yet fast asleep. But the Servants assuring him that 'twas impossible, considering the noise they had made; he was at last diverted from his resolution. My Lover while this was acting, stood with his Sword in his hand ready to receive him, swore he had been once tamely robb'd of me, but wou'd be so no more; that he wou'd not attempt Aristeon's Life, but would secure my Peace, and carry me off in spite of all his followers; and I verily believe had my Father enter'd, I would have trusted to Od­mar's generosity, and fled with him. As they went off, I heard Aristeon cry, Oh Heavens! Re­store my Daughter, or take back that wretched Life you gave me. These words wounded my [Page 48] very Soul; and I had almost cry'd Your Daria is not lost. However seeing his search was to no pur­pose, he retir'd to his House, and there with my weeping Mother, waited the arrival of a new day.

In the mean time 'twas so dark (and being na­turally tim'rous) I durst not go thorrow the Garden alone, nor could I take Odmar with me, lest I had met Aristeon or some of the Servants by the way. My Lover saw my troubles, knew they were upon his account, and bore an equal share; I stifled my grief as well as I could, that I might lessen his, and with a calm brow ask'd him what was my best course. I bid him at once consult my Honour and my safety. And he, who never entertain'd a thought against either, said he would be advis'd by me. But if I rely'd upon his Opinion or Judgment, I should stay in the Lodge all night, he'd stay by me, and guard me while I slept. In the morning he would retire as early as I pleas'd. And that I could hardly satisfie Aristeon concerning my Conduct, if I should go home at that hour of the Night. Odmar's Voice was to me, Madam, no less than an Oracle, and I knew him so good and just, I scrupl'd not to grant him any thing he ask'd. My silence shew'd I was resolv'd to stay; and the glad Youth scarce knew how to thank me for my goodness, and that opinion I had of his, and swore he would not betray so much innocence to gain the first Beauty under Heaven, and the greatest Empire on Earth: Having thus spent an hour or two, Odmar begg'd I'd go to Bed (for there was always one in the Room in which my Father often lay) that sleep was necessary for the preservation of my [Page 49] Health, which was dearer to him than his own Life, and assur'd me he would awake me e're the Sun arose. I was much concern'd at the Pro­position, and with some passion ask'd him if he thought my Love had banish'd native modesty, or if he had advis'd me to stay with a design to attempt my Honour. The kind Youth fell up­on his Knees, and clasping mine, Swore by all the Gods he never meant me ill; Daria's welfare and that of his Soul were equally his care, and if I deny'd him that assurance of my Love he begg'd, he would believe himself yet unhappy after all I had done for him. Why Daria, said he, is Odmar a Common Lover? Is he not thy Husband? Let me hope our Hearts are Joyn'd, and sure a few trifling Ceremonies serve not to confirm the tye before Heaven but our fellow Creatures, whose unbounded Passions must be li­mited and restrain'd by Laws. To the Virtuous and good no force is needful, and I shall be just to thee, as I would expect mercy from the powers in Heaven when my last hour approaches.—O! Madam, 'tis needless to say any more, I Lov'd even to distraction, nor did he merit less. I yielded, and hid my blushes in his Breast; he was blest, nor could I think my self unhappy. That sleep he had at first propos'd was to both deny'd, nay was not wish'd or look'd for; we consum'd the hours in each others Arms, and Jove sat wish­ing, when he view'd our Joys.

When the unfortunate Sun appear'd, and lovely Odmar rose, what agonies did my poor Soul know! He embrac'd me tenderly, but without one kind word leapt from the disorder'd Bed. I already fear'd I had shown too much of [Page 50] fondness, and that the Joys of that Night had cloy'd the appetite of his easie Soul. When he was dress'd, he came again to the Bed's side, took me in his Arms, sigh'd, and ask'd me when he should be bless'd again? With Tears in my eyes I told him I was his, and that now my happiness depended upon his pleasure. To morrow's night then (said he) let me find my Daria here, doubt not my Love or honour; kiss'd me again, and so quit the Room. Oh! Madam, if you knew those cares oppress'd me when he was gone. I remembred how elo­quent he had been before I yielded, and now saw he had not one kind word to spare. His sighs encreas'd my fears, and I had nothing to comfort me in this new affliction, but that last kiss he gave me, which, notwithstanding of his silence, me­thought did yet express a constant tender flame.

When I opened the Door, I trac'd his foot­steps on the Dew, and almost sunk with the fresh remembrance of what had past. Go (said I) Odmar go, and if thou art not so Honoura­ble as I have judg'd thee, I know how to be re­veng'd; my Death shall attone for my guilt, and thou shalt mourn the loss of her that lov'd thee. As I spoke, I cast my Eyes that way the Youth had gone, and saw my Father coming. I trembl'd so much as he approach'd, that my fears indeed were enough to betray the secret. Ha! Daria (cry'd he) is this the reward of a Father's care? Have I lov'd you to be the more easily betray'd by you, and is your Virtue and Honour fled beyond Redemption! my passion is not master of my Judgment, and I forbear to use you as I ought to do, tho' I've trac'd Odmar, and [Page 51] saw him on the other side of the River. But take this for my positive resolution, never see me more; since you obey'd not the instruction of a kind Fa­ther, I shall, nay I have forgot that ever I had a Daughter. I had spent the night in pleasure, and the morning in Tears, so that I had not time to feign a story to divert his Anger. I threw my self therefore at his feet, and sunk with grief, could hardly bid him think I yet was Virtuous. Yes, yes, Daria (reply'd he) you are Virtuous! I can read in your Eyes no signs of last nights Revels! But come (continued he, and taking me by the hand) let's see the Scene where the disho­nour of my House was acted. When he came to the Bed, Oh, Madam, I blush to tell, that the marks of Virgin Loves confess'd that weak­ness which I strove to hide. My Father was Thunder-struck with what he saw, and running out of the Room, I could hear him at some di­stance cry, Oh my lost Daria! I'm sure, Madam, you will confess 'tis impossible to paint that grief I then felt; I fell into a swoon upon the Bed, and there lay some hours e're I recover'd my senses. When my Judgment return'd, I felt a new return of all my pains too, I was ready to end all my griefs by one dire Blow, and I'm firm­ly perswaded, if any instrument of Death had been nigh, I had not now liv'd to mourn the loss of Odmar. However amidst all my sorrows I remembred that Appointment he had made the succeeding night, and tho' I doubted much his Constancy, I resolv'd to wait the event. Till that time should come I knew not whither to betake my self, I could not fly to a Friend's House, be­cause then my shame would be notorious, and [Page 52] durst not venture to show my self at home, when Aristeon had sworn he ne're would own me; e're I could come to a resolution, my afflicted Mo­ther enter'd the Lodge. Well Daria, (said she) I come not to reproach you with a Crime that cannot now be mended, but to tell you that no Arguments can yet reconcile you to your Father. He denies your admittance to his House. This indiscreet way of Loving, has sown that reproach upon our Family, (for can you think Odmar will wed a Fortune so mean as yours!) which no time shall be able to Root out. In a word, A­risteon is mad with Grief, and you may guess at mine. However, come along with me, and stay in your Chamber without his knowledge, for my Tears may yet perswade him to forgive this fault of Love and Youth. I was not able to give any answer to this tenderness of Julietta's, my grief was visible in my Face, and sufficiently pleaded my excuse. I obey'd then, and when I was left alone in my Room, in a few minutes my condition was the same it had been a little be­fore my Mother had come to me; and when the troubles of my mind again allow'd me the use of my senses, I read my Odmar's Letters a thousand times, but found not half that pleasure in 'em I had known before. At Night Julietta came again to see me, told me my Father's sorrow was nothing yet abated, and that he was resolv'd not lose Dion's Friendship, bid me make use of my Reason, and shun immoderate Grief, and so left me to my self. I spent the Night without sleep, and the next Morning yet encreas'd my fears, for now the hour approach'd, in which I was a­gain to see my Odmar, from whom alone I hop'd [Page 53] and wish'd relief. To be short, Madam, Night at last arriv'd, but not my Lover. How I long'd and waited for him in that Lodge, where I had been once so happy, no Tongue can utter; I staid there all Night, and, tho' in the dark and alone, void of my wonted fears, and only wept my own folly, and the young Man's unkind ab­sence.

In the Morning I found a Paper lying upon the Bed, I knew it to be Odmar's, and wonder'd that my Father had not seen it the other Day. You must know, Madam, (for so I understood afterwards) 'twas written by a Friend of his, to whom I have since that time been much indebted. Having opened it with impatiency, I found these words.

You see by this broken line, Madam, the piece was not perfected, however, there was enough to move my grief and wonder; I was now fully perswaded Odmar was unjust, and even when I believ'd him so, wonder'd that a Man, who look'd so like a god, could in his Nature be the worst of Villains. I knew he was a Poet for his own pleasure, and found by what I had read, he had spoke his Sentiments, not half his Art or Wit. I saw my Fortune painted in each line, and now (tho' ne're before) I wish'd I had not seen him. I found my ruine ineyitable, for since Odmar was unkind, I had no more to lose. I had too convincing a proof of my ill Fortune, when I consider'd he had written to me in the Morning, when he was to see me that Night, and could not reasonably have expected a Letter from him; and that now when he had giv'n me [Page 55] the disapointment, he had not been at the pains to excuse himself, or say that yet he lov'd me.

This, Madam, is a tedious way of telling the story of my Love. But I can do no less than ac­quaint you with my Griefs, because the remem­brance of these things fill my Soul, and yet de­ny a room to any other thought. To be short then as possibly I can, I resolv'd speedily to aban­don the World, and retire to a Nunnery a few Miles distant from Odmar's House. I had two young Cousins there, whom Love had made Reli­gious, and I resolv'd to spend my Days like them. I went privately to my Chamber, and took from thence every thing of Value and of little Bulk, read my Lover's kind Letters, and afterwards burnt them; with my Eyes took a long farewel of every thing in the House, and, drown'd in Tears, I left it.

I had not walk'd far, when my Grief and Trou­ble made me know, I was too weak for a Jour­ney of five long Miles on Foot. Half faint be­neath a shady Tree I lay, and view'd the watch­ful Shepherds driving out their Flocks, and wan­toning ev'n in Rags. I compar'd their happiness with mine, and often wish'd I had been born like them, to moderate Wants, or to an humbler Fortune, bless'd with Peace and Innocence. I mourn'd all my Misfortunes at once, but most of all I griev'd the loss of Odmar's Letters; for I found even then when I suffer'd so much for him, 'twas not in my Power to hate him.

While thus I lay, I could see at some distance two Men on Horse back; 'twas yet so ve­ry early in the Morning, I could hardly think them less than Robbers. My fears suggested a [Page 56] thousand things to me, I remembred I was a Woman helpless and alone; and yet, Madam, by that great Power I swear that gave me first a Being, I wish'd them Murderers, Ravishers, or any thing that was Cruel. Life was become a perfect burden to me, and I was resolv'd some way or other to be reliev'd from the weight. As they approach'd, I step'd into the Road, and ex­pos'd, as if I had done it by Chance, any thing of value about me to tempt the vicious Wretches, then by resistance prompt them on to fury. This conduct I confess was a greater Crime than any I had yet committed, but your Grace will con­sider that Despair has no acquaintance with Rea­son, and I did it with a setled design to advance my ruin. When they came close up to me, Oh Heavens! what art can express my surprise, for I had almost fainted with excess of Joy! In the depth of my misery, and sunk beneath my self, my kind, just Odmar came to raise me up. Oh Daria! (cry'd he, alighting from his Horse) Whither art thou going? Why do I read in thy Face so many signs of past grief? Did you sus­pect me? Oh! by Heavens! I'm mad with Joy! For whate're has brought thy Tears, I find thy Sorrows to thy Beauties add. When I could speak, Oh Odmar! (said I) do I owe this hap­piness to Chance or You? No, (reply'd he sud­denly) to your self only, if you had been less Fair, or less Kind, I had been less Constant; and now I know you Love me, we shall both be hap­py. But I have nothing, my Dear, (continued he) to repay that Joy you give me, a heart ex­cepted, which Heaven design'd but for it self and you; for I have acquainted Dion with my [Page 57] Love, but he (tho' otherwise kind) is inexorable, and swears if I persist he ne're shall see me more. The hopes nevertheless of obtaining his consent kept me from my Daria yesterday, but could not do so to day. Ah! Odmar, (cry'd I) The gods were passive, and you might have come. But I am ruin'd, my Father has banish'd me from his House, and our stoln happiness is—No, (said he, interrupting me, and with all the tenderness ima­ginable) if my Love can repay the loss of A­risteon's smiles, my Daria is not ruin'd. Here (continued he, and turning to his Friend) this is my Wife; You can confirm our Vows already made, and as you tender my Life obey. To be brief, Madam, Odmar was singular in his Love and Virtues. We were that day marry'd, (for his Friend was a Priest, whom the kind Youth had brought on purpose) bless'd with safe possession, and both Exiles, cause we lov'd too well.

We retir'd to a Gentleman's House, who was Odmar's Relation and mine too. He writ often to his Father, but the old Man was deaf to all entreaties. Mine would not lose Dion's Friend­ship, tho' he pardon'd me in his Heart; and my Mother alone was kind to us both, and sent me frequent Letters in return of mine. We went seldom abroad, we were welcome to our kind Friend, we lov'd more passionately than ever, and scarce one Night past without a recital of our first night's Joys, our mutual Fears that fol­low'd, his longings, my Pains, and those thoughts we entertain'd for one another, when first old Dion languish'd in our House. Thus, Madam, we liv'd two Years, and I can confidently affirm, that to the last hour we had those little Cares to [Page 58] please, true Love, and constant fondness for each other, we knew that Night I yielded in the Lodge. At last this happy Scene vanish'd, and tho' the story grates my Soul, and awakes my slumbering Griefs, yet, Madam, for your satis­faction take it thus.

Our King (the good Othredus) unfortunate in his Councils, tho' of himself Just and Merciful even to a fault, was at last by Knaves betray'd, and by his Friends abandon'd. In this extremity he fled, and (seeking protection from his neigh­bouring Monarch) left the Government to the management of others. Scarronida was so fond of their new Government, that he was judg'd a Tray­tor to his Country, who enterrain'd but favourable thoughts for his native injur'd Lord. The Eastern part of the Nation, nevertheless betook themselves to Arms, and tho' they were but a handful of Men, (the number of their Enemies consider'd) boldly kept the Field, and bid Defi­ance to the new crown'd Head. Dion was one in this Loyal Army, and finding he was incapa­ble of enduring those fatigues inherent to his Post, he sent at last for Odmar. My Father fought as he did, and whether or not he perswaded the old Man to reassume his good Nature upon this occasion, I cannot positively affirm. My kind Husband show'd me the Letter he had receiv'd, and ask'd my advice concerning that Answer he design'd, when at the same time he knew I had that respect for his Judgment, which fond little Children bear to that of a tender Mother. In a word, tho' the old Man had freely pardon'd him, yet he would not obey, till first he had secur'd his [Page 59] Daria, and therefore let him know, that tho' he was kind, yet his Son was still unfortunate, unless he were doubly so to me; and, as a mark of his unfeign'd Reconciliation, settl'd one half of his Estate upon me, if 'twere my Fortune to survive so good a Husband. Dion readily agreed to this, and assur'd him he deserv'd more than he had to bestow upon him, since his con­stancy to me sufficiently excus'd his primitive dis­obedience upon the score of Love. I firmly be­lieve our hospitable Friend Tameran, (for that was his Name) alone griev'd our better Fortune. He was an old Batchelor and an hater of Women, and the Author of those lines which Odmar had Copied, and by chance drop'd in the Lodge, yet he confess'd that in spite of his humour he found a certain pleasure, when he saw our mutual fond­ness, and happy way of living, and often swore if he could find a Woman like me, and himself could Love like Odmar, he'd be no more an Enemy to Marriage. When we came to Dion's House, we were receiv'd with all that respect and assurances of his affection we could desire, and Aristeon wept for Joy to see his Daughter bless'd

'Twas ne're my chance to be every way Hap­py, and Odmar's absence lessen'd or quite remov'd the sense of my present Fortune. The Loyal Army lay but a few Miles from Dion's House, so that I heard from him every Day, and by the gods I swear, Madam, I read the Letters with the same Joy, I knew when faithful Riga gave me that one I mention'd under a pretence of seeking Papers which he ne're had lost. Heaven ne're saw two such Lovers, and when the new [Page 60] King's Army came into the bosom of our Coun­try, I felt a thousand deadly Fears for the con­stant sharer of my Joys.

In a few Days they came to a pitch'd Battle, where the General of the old King's Forces lost his Life, tho' he gain'd the Victory. He con­quer'd, and Death o'recame the Conquerour: Odmar flew to my Arms, the danger once I fear'd was now past, and security made us doub­ly bless'd. He stay'd a Month, which as an hour appear'd, and the new King having muster'd new Troops, he left me to seek new Hazards: The Armies again met, but Fortune had fled with the General, and we (if I may properly say I was on Odmar's side) lost the Day, and all that Honour we had gain'd before. My Hus­band however was safe, and I askt no more; our remaining Troops were by degrees cut off, and in a short time no Man appear'd in Arms but Dion and his Followers. Unable to keep the Field he retir'd to a little Town, which yet own'd no power superior to his own. This he forti­fied and stor'd with Provisions, such as the har­rass'd Country could afford. In the mean time the successful Monarch, wearied with the Civil War, and willing to secure with seeming mercy what with Blood he had purchas'd, offer'd to e­very Man that would lay down his Arms the be­nefit of a Kariph, with you call an Act of In­dempnity. Dion, who wisely saw he could be no longer serviceable to his Prince by an obstinate resistance, laid hold of this opportunity, and made his Peace with Honour. In short, our Gates were open'd, we rely'd upon the Con­querour's Promise, admitted his Troops, and made [Page 61] 'em bosom Friends. Now it was, I thought my self beyond the reach of Fortune's frowns, and al­most elevated above the power of Fate. Dion and Aristeon found themselves bless'd beyond what e're they hop'd, and never saw us without Joy and Wonder. Oh Heav'ns! how innocent­ly we liv'd, and lov'd as when first we swore we did so. Poor Odmar thought of nothing but his Daria, and I never dreamt of any thing but him. We descry'd new Beauties in one another every Day, long'd and wish'd like Bride and Bridgroom, gaz'd, embrac'd, and knew no pains, but when in each others Arms we sigh'd and fear'd we had not lov'd alike.—Now, Ma­dam, pardon my Tears, for when I have told you all, you'll own my griefs are just.

One Night as awake I lay, I heard my Od­mar groaning in his Sleep. 'Twas the first time he ever had done so, and I was much amaz'd; but more, when suddenly raising himself up, he cry'd, Oh spare my Daria 's, and I'll give you mine. Ha my Dear! (cry'd I) Whither does your fancy wander? Why thus afear'd when there's no dan­ger nigh. The kind Youth rouz'd from his Sleep, caught me in his Arms, kiss'd me with transport, sigh'd, and would have slept again, had not I press'd his hand in mine, and conjur'd him to tell me why he had pronounc'd my Name. Ah! Daria, (said he) I can yet hardly think I have thee in my Arms, so much I fear'd thee lost. I dreamt (and oh methinks 'twas a very lively dream) that Tameran our kind Friend, who entertain'd us when unfortunate, pull'd a­side the Curtain, and with looks that spoke him fill'd with dire revenge, threatned thy life and [Page 62] mine, for Crimes he fear'd that I had done, but meant not to reveal. You take me for a Friend, (said he) but you shall find a Foe, where least you dreamt of one; I trust not the Man who once offends, for tho' he begs my pardon afterwards, yet I consider that as the effect of my power and his necessity, not Love or real Friendship. This said, methought he struck his Dagger to my Heart, and swore you too should bleed. 'Twas that my Dear, (continued he) which broke the Chain of Sleep, and set my Tongue at liberty. When Odmar spoke, I felt the same pain as if it had not been a dream; but that which sunk me most, was that this same Night I had seen old Di­on expiring on his Bed, and ghastly in his Wounds. To encrease my fears, my Windows stood all open, and between me and the Skies I saw the Heads and Limbs of murder'd Friends, heard the shrieks of tortur'd Souls that wander'd in the Air, and howling Ghosts to snowy shrowds confin'd. I shrunk, and graspt my Odmar in my Arms, and e're I spoke I'd view the Scene again; but as I was about to tell my fears to my Dear kind Youth, I heard a dreadful noise upon the Stairs. The Chamber-door was immediately forc'd open, and Ruffians mask'd in Armour straight rush'd in: My fears would not let me cry. But the more daring Odmar leapt from the Bed, and with his Sword receiv'd them. Oh Heavens! this god­like Man did all a mortal could, but cover'd o're with Wounds at last he fell. Oh base Vil­lains! Oh Daria! Daria! he cry'd, and in that moment dy'd. The senseless Clay their utmost sury felt, and they stab'd Odmar, after Odmar fled. I saw't, Madam, (and oh that I liv'd to [Page 63] see so much) yet found that 'twas not in my power to speak, for my Soul (affrighted with the horrid sight) retir'd and left me destitute of sense. This alone sav'd my Life, for the cruel murderers when they saw me motionless on the Floor, and drench'd in my Husband's Blood, believ'd me dead, e're they forsook the Room. When I recover'd my Soul half fled, I knew not what to think, I was in a perfect frenzy, and would have thought all a Dream still, if I had not found the wounded Body by me, nay even then I scarce could think my self awake; for when I examin'd my life past, in all my search I saw not one massy Sin that could have pull'd this cru­el stroak from Heaven, nor could I think that the just gods had us'd me so, when I had studied never to offend. The bloody Executioners had carry'd their dark Lanthorns with them, and I, to be convinc'd of my own unhappiness, (undrest as I was) run into the other Room to tell old Dion that his Son was lost, and Daria just grown Mad; for, Madam, I must confess I really was so. Oh! what words or art can paint my pains, and the horrours of that Night! The Father was murder'd e're the Son was cold, and Aristeon shar'd in Odmar's fate, he and my Mother were both butcher'd; and (if so Heav'n had pleas'd) would Daria too had dy'd, for not one of Dion's Relations escap'd but my self. You may won­der, Madam, that e're a Man was found to Ex­ecute so barbarous a Commission, for you must know (tho' 'tis very strange) the new Statesmen fearing, that (if the exil'd Prince should at any time attempt the recovery of his own) Dion would prove a dangerous Subject, they thought it [Page 64] sitting by this cruel method to prevent that ill they fear'd. My just griefs robb'd me of the use of my Reason, and 'twas my Fortune not to feel the weight of my own unhappy Fate, (for oh, Madam, I had lost the best of Men) but du­ring the time of my short intervals. A neighbou­ring old Gentlewoman of Julietta's acquaintance took a particular care of me, and after fifteen long Months I was again my self. But tho' bless'd with my Reason, I was still oppress'd with Grief, and therefore without acquainting any bo­dy, (nay my benefactor her self was kept a stranger to it) I quit the Scene where all my ills were acted, and came in Tears to Armenis. My Fortune preferr'd me to your Graces esteem, to whom I confess I am more indebted than all my coming services can e're repay. I've told you a story I have long conceal'd, and, Madam, you may believe the Widdow of Odmar would not so far betray her Honour, as to conceal any part of the truth, or add any thing that was not so.

Here, my Albisinda, the lovely unfortunate Daria ended her Story, and the tender hearted Dutchess wept for Odmar's death, begg'd her pardon if she had not us'd her conform to her Quality and Merit, and assur'd her, that for the future she would make it her Study to teach her to forget her Misfortunes. Eriphile was always good, and she was at this time so much concern'd for the death of so kind a Man, that she told Daria she could dwell eternally upon the Story, and there settle her thoughts, if the sad remem­brance and frequent repetition did not renew the Tears of one who had so just cause to Mourn: [Page 65] As she spoke Erinthus enter'd. The Dutchess re­ceiv'd the fortunate Youth with all the tender­ness of a conquer'd Beauty, told him the Duke was gone to Court, and kind Love had allotted the few minutes of his absence for the happiness of both. Poor Daria blush'd and withdrew, and the Lovers, now left to themselves, let loose their wishes, and surfeited in pleasure. But as they lay in each others Arms, their Souls upon the Wing, and fear'd, by coveting too fast, desire should be lost, the injur'd Duke arriv'd; pardon me, Al­bisinda, if I omit not the particulars of this Ad­venture. Their mutual Joys had banish'd usual Fears, and he knock'd at the Chamber-door e're they had thought him nigh. Erinthus nimbly started from the Bed, and sensible of his own danger, and the Crime he had committed, half drest, leapt from the Chamber-Window into the Garden, and with the hazard of his Neck made his escape. Entheon saw him, and, in a height of sudden passion, fir'd a Pistol after him, but with­out the wish'd success. 'Tis easie to guess in what a posture he found the lovely Dutchess, half dead with fear, and unable to hide, what even to Enthe­on she should have ne're expos'd tho' in her state of Innocence: Besides, to evince her guilt, and that she had been actually happy in anothers Arms, the lucky Youth when from the Bed he leapt, had left the usual Marks of Love behind him. This indeed, the Duke had not the misfor­tune to see, for one of the Maids, who was privy to the Amour, enter'd the Chamber with him, and hid the base remains of interrupted Love.

Eriphile at once blush'd and wept, she saw 'twas impossible to deny what had past between her and Erinthus, and did not so much as offer to extenuate the Crime. Entheon knew his Ho­nour betray'd, his constant Love repay'd with Treachery, and griev'd that e're he went to Ci­sala's House. Then again remembring her Blushes, when first he saw her in the Garden, her Love which at that time was real, and all those tender words she utter'd in his Arms, since she became a Wife, he grew almost mad, and the thoughts of losing so much sweetness rack'd his very Soul: Again he ey'd the weeping Fair, and again storm'd and griev'd. He curst the hour brought Erinthus to his House, and saw that if he reveng'd this great affront, he could gain no honour by it, the Quality of the offen­der consider'd. Besides Eriphile was always dear to him, and now (tho' false to the last degree) as lovely as ever she had been. The powerful Charms of a weeping Beauty can ne're be truly painted. To have seen the Dutchess at this time was to be eternally hers, and when she look'd upon her injur'd Lord, she show'd a certain soft­ness, of force enough to enslave at once the Judg­ment and the Soul. You may believe then, Albi­sinda, the generous Entheon was not insensible when he beheld her. He sate sometime speechless, and thinking on his loss, then suddenly starting up, he threw himself upon the Bed, took her in his Arms, and kiss'd away her fears. Ah, Eriphile! (cry'd he) how I lov'd you, Heaven and you can tell! How my constancy has been rewarded, I'm asham'd to speak! But oh! why Erinthus is preferr'd to Entheon, you alone can say! Was [Page 67] your Honour (now inseparably ty'd to mine) a Triffle, and Marriage Vows a whim of Priest­hood? No, no, Eriphile, the World will take notice of the first, and Heaven I fear can scarce neglect the latter. But I, by all that's good, for­give you. Let not my disgrace and your weak­ness be the Table discourse of a whole Nation: Let all that's past be hush'd up in eternal Silence, and for the future to Entheon and to your self be just. Sure, Albisinda, you'll confess 'twas a dou­ble Sin to offend so good a Husband. The ten­der Eriphile for that time was truly sensible of this, and, drown'd in Tears, (tho' yet in Bed) threw her self upon her Knees, graspt Entheon's Hand, and, weeping, swore by all the Powers above, and by that just Heaven she had too much offended, she griev'd what she had done, and for the future would prove her self the most o­bedient humble Wife that ever yet was known; adding, his excess of Goodness and Generosity encreas'd the weight of her Guilt; she saw with sorrow, how far she had err'd, and assur'd him that no temptation should e're again perswade her to forget how much she ow'd to Entheon or her self. The kind Duke forgave her all, rais'd her up, took her again to his Arms, and told her he griev'd nothing more, than that Erinthus, proud of so great a Conquest, might betray the Secret; to prevent which, 'twas fitting he should bleed, for the security of hers and his own Ho­nour. The lovely Eriphile, tho' she truly re­pented the wrong she had done her Husband, yet found too soon she had not wholly banish'd her Lover from her Breast. She ey'd the Duke with concern, and reading in his Face the signs of [Page 68] close revenge, she fell a second time upon her Knees, conjur'd him to believe that she was hear­tily sensible of that fault she had committed, but could not think the death of Erinthus, the most proper method to secure his Honour; begg'd as he tender'd her Life, he'd lay aside that thought, and, as he had already promis'd, pardon all that was done. The Duke could deny her nothing; and sure, Albisinda, his easiness that way was very pardonable; for had she stood before that surly old Cynicks Diogenes, he'd not have us'd her with that freedom he express'd to the World's great Conquerour, he'd willingly have quit his Book, and gaz'd upon her, or at least have sought no other light but what her eyes could give. Oh, Albisinda! some People may blame him for an excess of good Nature, upon this and other Emergencies that concern'd Eriphile. But then, believe me, their Hearts are of a different Mould from that of this Noble Man, and they ne're saw Eriphile, or were capable of any tender­ness, that think they could have resented the ill she had done; especially when she kneel'd and begg'd forgiveness. In a word, my Albisinda, Entheon granted every thing, she promis'd any thing, he believ'd all, she seem'd sensible of all, and both were happy in a new Agreement.

I'm afraid Albisinda, (for I frankly confess my want of Art or Power to move the Passions) that by this time you wish my Letter finish'd. But the story affords no great number of Adventures, and that of Daria, having wasted more than half my time, you will find me generous in spite of my self, because necessarily oblig'd to relieve you from the trouble. I shall then, Madam, (like [Page 69] our famous Teachers) only beg one minutes pa­tience, and venture to take two.

The Duke tho' he had lov'd much, and be­liev'd much, yet could not chuse but fear more. He remembred that Eriphile was a Woman, that Erinthus was young and handsom, that he was new, and already in possession of her Favours. These considerations taught him to observe her Conduct narrowly, he consulted her very looks, and tho' his Judgment always master'd his Pas­sions, yet sometimes he could not chuse but think, he read his own dishonour painted in her Eyes. On the other hand the Dutchess fear'd to offend, because she could not reasonably expect to find him always merciful. Erinthus griev'd the loss of his happiness, but more Eriphile's cares, and knew not that the Duke had sign'd her par­don, and seal'd it with his Love. Unwilling ne­vertheless to lose that happiness he had enjoy'd, by the help of powerful Guinea, he convey'd the following Billet-deux to the longing Dut­chess.

The Dutchess (tho' once half resolv'd to forget him) was o're-joy'd to know him safe, and in spite of all her Resolutions found she lov'd him more than ever. When she retir'd to her Closet to consult her Judgment what to do, e're she was aware, she writ him this Answer.

The happy young Man receiv'd it, and fail'd not to obey. When the hour came, he appear'd upon the place with all the longings of a Lover; as yet he saw not one Woman there, and was almost assur'd of a disappointment, when a lovely Youth approach'd his Chariot. Erinthus be­liev'd him sent from the Dutchess, and bid the Coach-man stop, and you may think him hap­pily surpris'd, when he found the handsom Youth was no other than the Dutchess of Entheon. The Duke shortly after, by chance, drove the same way, and as he past, Eriphile gave him a low Bow, as other strangers did. You may assure your self, they stay'd not long in the Walk, there were greater sweets to be found in a Bed-Chamber than in the open Fields, and they forgot all those hazards they had lately past. At ten they part­ed, and the Dutchess got home with all that ease and security she desir'd. Her two faithful Maids stood at the Gate to receive her, and as [Page 71] she enter'd inform'd her that Entheon was at home, that he had enquir'd after her, but that they had told him she was indispos'd, and begg'd his Grace's pardon. Had Fortune continued this kindness, all had been well; but, Albisinda, you'll confess 'twas hard, that e're she had fairly enter'd the Room, and ready to undress, the impatient Duke knock'd at the Door. Eriphile (with a Voice seemingly faint) askt who it was, and knowing too soon that 'twas the Duke, you may easily think she was startl'd with the sudden ap­prehension of her danger. But not so confus'd as to neglect her own safety, she told his Grace, she was so very ill, she could not yet come to the Door without difficulty. Entheon, who lov'd her to distraction, fear'd that her indisposition might indeed be dangerous, and, unable to live one mi­nute from her sight, gently forc'd it open, and found her in the same dress in which she had bless'd her Lover; her Wig and Sword lay ob­vious on the Table, and not one sign of indispo­sition appear'd. The great Entheon became dumb with sorrow, and the charming Eriphile knew not what to say for her self. At last, the Duke broke silence, and calmly, but with trou­ble, told her, That if she was not really sick, she ought to have been so, seeing his Honour had again been stab'd, and hers was truly dead. This generous Man, Albisinda, said no more; he lov'd her even yet, and griev'd her weakness. He ey'd her a while, and in spite of all his Cou­rage his Heart melted. But willing to hide his softness, he feign'd another Passion, show'd an­ger in his looks, and yet in Tears withdrew. When he was gone, Eriphile threw her self upon [Page 72] the Bed, wept her own Misfortune, and wish'd she could yet be sensible of Entheon's merit; and when with pain she view'd him noble, as when first he saw her, Erinthus leapt between her and the lovely form, and she could think of nothing else but him. In the mean time the Duke sent for the Earl of Cisala, and acquainted him with all that past since that Night she and Fidelia went to the Play-house. The old Man was in­finitely surpris'd with what he heard, and thankt him for that moderation he had shown, in an af­fair where so many provoking causes were given, and told him, that Eriphile's Education had ne're taught her to dishonour his House, and again bless'd him for not exposing to the World the disgrace of his seduc'd Daughter. Eriphile yet lay upon the Bed, and was perfectly mad with grief, when she saw her Husband and her Father enter. She was too in that dress which betray'd the Secret; and, weeping as she rose to receive them. Ah my Lord, (said she to Cisala) I own my guilt, load me not with reproaches, but rob me of my Life, for I deserve not to live; since I've dishonour'd you, and wrong'd so good a Husband, Oh Entheon! (continued she) I can­not ask forgivness, you have been too kind, and I too ingrateful, yet e're I dye let me receive your Pardon. Whether she truly repented or not, Albisinda, is not to be doubted; for she ne're saw Entheon, but she lov'd him. But when he and Erinthus were both absent, her Heart inclin'd to the latter, and own'd him much the happier Man. But, Madam, why should I detain you longer upon this Adventure, since I've already promis'd a speedy Conclusion. In a word then, [Page 73] the Duke lov'd too well, and she was too charm­ing. Her new dress gave her a thousand Gra­ces, expos'd the tenderness and delicacy of her shape, and show'd so much of softness in her Air, 'twas enough to have charm'd the most insensi­ble of Human Kind, for even when in the Grove she lay, and show'd by chance what else had been conceal'd, her Limbs appear'd not to the van­quish'd Youth, with half those Beauties which he now discover'd. Cisala too interceded for her, and 'twas morally impossible for the Duke not to be reconcil'd to so fair an offender.

Things being thus setled, they liv'd for some time in a seeming Union. How far their Hearts were engag'd in this peace I shall not offer to de­termine, but by what has follow'd it appears, the Dutchess kept not to Articles on her side. E­rinthus it seems had too many Charms to be with ease forgot, and even in Entheon's Arms she sigh'd and wish'd for him. The Duke some Months after was oblig'd to go into the Coun­try, where he stay'd a considerable time. He trusted much to Eriphile's Promises, and (confi­dent of her future conduct) left her with that ease and peace of mind, which happy Husbands know, of virtuous Wives possess'd. In his ab­sence 'twas impossible for Eriphile to be constant to her Vows, Erinthus attacqu'd her with Letters, and all the Arts of a cunning Lover, knowing that where a Woman once has yielded, 'tis rare­ly found she can deny again. In a word, the Lover was again happy, and the witty fair Eri­phile again was faulty. The continued absence of Entheon gave them all that security they could desire, and frequent meetings made the Crime at [Page 74] last so obvious, that all the World took notice on't. Every Servant in the House knew it, and tho' they lov'd the Dutchess, yet hated the happy Lover. He often stay'd all Night; and 'tis known that two of the Maids at a certain time peeping throw the Key-hole saw them in Bed to­gether, the Curtain at foot being open, and next morning could perceive the marks of impi­ous Love, and signs of Honour lost. Nay the Intrigue grew so notorious, that Erinthus's Friends enquir'd for him no where but at the Duke of Entheon's; and Fidelia, one day before many wit­nesses, by way of raillery, askt Eriphile, if Erin­thus was not in her Closet? We shall see him (said she laughing) appear by and by like a fatigu'd Traveller. There was one thing too, which e­vidently demonstrated that familiarity between the Fair One and this fortunate Youth. One of her Maids coming accidentally into the Room, found the charming Dutchess in a Posture that vi­sibly betray'd past or intended Crimes; for she was sitting upon the Bed, where the happy Lover was allow'd those freedoms which fire the weary Soul, and give new flames, that when encreas'd expire. 'Tis impossible to find me an Anchorite so frozen or devout, that could have seen the half of all those Charms, without a passion not to be exprest; his Hands graspther naked Limbs, she wanton'd, wish'd and sigh'd, and show'd so much of pleasure in her Eyes, his very Soul grew giddy with the Joy. The Dutchess (and not without just cause) was heartily displeas'd with that disco­very the Maid had made, and in a passion, to which she was much a stranger, desir'd Erinthus would for this impudence kick her down Stairs; but [Page 75] 'tis to be presum'd she say'd him that labour by her speedy absence.

At last the unwelcome Duke came from the Country, and having those in the Family who watch'd the behaviour of his Wife, he was soon inform'd how faulty she had been. However he conceal'd his resentment as much as possible, took her as kindly to his Arms as ever, and only waited for an ocular proof of her infidelity, e're he should attempt to right himself. Eriphile believ'd him ig­norant of all, and without a blush receiv'd him. This added to his inward Fury, and I may almost believe, (so much he hated dissimulation and trea­chery) that had she again confess'd the truth, and again begg'd pardon, he had lóv'd again. But Fortune was never her Friend, and she never yet was guilty of any thing, but what was by some [...]ccident or other unluckily betray'd. Doubtless, Albisinda, there are Ladies in Clusa who have done [...]s much as ever she did, who yet pass for Virtu­ [...]us, and would faint (at least be thought to do so) when they heard but the name of dishonest Love mention'd before a Witness.

The Duke one evening returning from Court, [...]nd almost entring Clusa, he found his Coach suddenly stop'd by the over turning of an Hack­ [...]ey, which cross'd that Road in which he was. The voice of a Lady, frighted with her fall, re­quir'd Entheon's assistance; and, leaping from his Chariot, you will not find it easie to paint his sur­prise, when he saw Eriphile and her Lover ari­ [...]ing from the Ground! The surpris'd Youth, un­willing to run the hazard of the Duke's Fury, whom he had too visibly injur'd, abandon'd the place, and between running and walking soon va­nish'd [Page 76] from his sight. The wise Husband was pleas'd he fled, knowing 'twas beneath himself to resent the Villany. He weighed his Birth and Eriphile's repeated guilt, and now resolv'd upon a way of revenge proper to her Crimes, he stept again into his Chariot, and without speaking one word to the mortified Dutchess, order'd the Coach-man to drive immediately home. Poor Eriphile was almost mad with grief, she could not expect kinder usage from the Duke, nor could she blame Erinthus for what he did; tho' if she had not lov'd too much, she had not for­got that he went off and left her in the hands of an incens'd Husband. In the mean time the Coach was again fitted up, and she came to Clu­sa with more sorrow than e're she had known before; she durst not trust her self with the Duke after what had past, nor could she think of being truly welcome to her Father. To relieve her from these anxieties, as she enter'd the Port, Erinthus (who had waited with impatiency) show'd him­self; she was glad to see him, and the Coach door boing opened, she received him with all that ten­derness of which a Woman is capable. To be short, Albisinda, they went off together, and E­riphile now secure in her Lover's House, forgot her fears, her Honour and her Husband. She remembred not now how much she was esteemed when Virtuous, and scarce could think her bro­ken Vows a Crime. Entheon in the mean time sought to redress his Honour, and before the Re­gala (with us called a Spiritual Court) sued for a Divorce. The Dutchess, tho' unfortunate in her amour, had nevertheless managed it so well, that he found it impossible to cast her; and tho' 'twas [Page 77] known that she was guilty of the Crime laid to her Charge, yet it could not at that time be proved; and she enjoy'd her Lover and her For­tune. The Duke's and her dishonour was now the publick Theme of every discourse in Clusa, all Men were sorry for her, and no Man con­demn'd his discreet Conduct. But, Albisinda, her confidence of her own safety advanc'd her Mis­fortune. Entheon was too great a Man to be always abus'd, and having at last remov'd his Suit, the powerful Segdarin (or Senate) did him Justice, and she is at this time the Divorc'd Eriphile, once the happy Dutchess of Entheon. Some People may alledge, that the Duke was too formal in his Resentment, and that he ought to have punish'd Erinthus as the Crime deserv'd; that is to say, Albisinda, shot him when he found him in his way to Clusa, or at least after his dis­appointment in the first Tryal. But 'tis certain Entheon chose the better way; 'twas known to e­very Man that he wanted not Courage, and in in his Youth he has even run beyond Seas, on purpose nobly to resent affronts to others done, who were not truly capable of doing Justice to themselves or him, whose Honour suffer'd in their Persons.

You see, Albisinda, (because I would not rob you of all patience) l've come to a conclusion so speedily, that I have almost cramp'd the Story: But you are the Woman whom by no means I would offend, and tho' I writ with pleasure, yet I deny my self a continuation of that happiness, rather than be too troublesome. Oh, Albisinda! if you knew my thoughts or inclinations, you [...] pardon whatever has escap'd me in [Page 78] my Letter. If you have found any thing in i [...] too Natural, that is, Albisinda, not truly nice enough, believe 'twas a force upon me to please others. But if I have offended you, I buy their Friendship at a price too dear. How cruel you have been, Madam, I cease to mention now, but I presume this way of writing was not prohibited that fatal Night in which you told me I was e­ver to expect your Friendship, and the happi­ness of being the first Man in your Esteem, but could not hope for Love. Albisinda, I could trace the Story even to that place where first we met, and where two Fools (who alone it seems are fortunate) were happy, and had that Heaven they sought, by jugling Quacks allow'd. I could show my innocence, or at least excuse whate're I did by putting you in mind of my Years. But, by my hopes of better Fortune, I know not yet what 'twas that mov'd your anger, and I rely up­on your goodness only for a pardon: I could for ever think on the innocent Pleasures of that day in which you mention'd the Story in Phara­mond, your obliging Compliment, and that dis­covery of my flame which immediatly follow'd the Encouragement—The remembrance of these things make me truly Melancholy, and I am forc'd to end. Oh, Albisinda! I'll say no more then; but, if you can, remember the Man who has often subscrib'd himself,

AFter I had Written that Letter, (where Passi­on rul'd, and my Judgment or Gratitude were not consulted) I took Horse that Evening, and began my journey to Chira, (the Metropo­lis of Naitrant) where I have staid ever since my departure. I was a stranger to the City, and the first Bill I read, there I took up my Lodgings. I liv'd sometime in the House un­known, and went very seldom abroad; my grief for so great a loss hourly imploying my thoughts. But one day going to take the Air upon the River at the back of the City, I encountred some Young Ladies that walk'd upon the Banks, and ask'd, if they design'd to trust themselves to the water? Women there, tho' Virtuous and Ho­nest, yet are not shie, and being well bred, know how to oblige strangers, and preserve their Ho­nour. They accepted the Complement; and [Page 38] having got Musick on board, we spent the day, and some part of the Evening very pleasantly; and at last began the stories of our Loves, where I related mine (but conceal'd your Name and Quality) with as much pain, as if we had but newly parted; this mov'd the pity of all the Ladies, and she who was the fairest of them (and whom we could not perswade to a relation of her Adventures) wept; and sighing, said, I deserv'd better fortune. Thus we consum'd the time, and I proffer'd to see them to their Lodg­ings, but was deny'd the Honour, tho' not before they had assur'd me that I might fre­quently see them, where we had met that Forenoon.

I found something that night at my Heart more than usual, and tho' my own misfortunes lay heavy upon me, I was afflicted for those Tears I had forc'd the fair one to shed, and cou'd have almost wish'd my self in Love with her: Her tenderness spoke good Nature, and her gen'rous pity show'd a noble Soul. Your seeming infidelity urg'd me to forget my Vows, and my griefs bid me seek relief from some kinder she. Then after a tedious contest, I was all Love, all Repentance, and every corner of my Soul was full of thee; Timandra, was the Object of my waking thoughts, and the last guide that led me to my rest; all Night I'd dream of her, and in the Morning mourn, be­cause I cou'd dream no more.

Next day however, I went to renew my ac­quaintance with my last days walk, I mov'd without design, yet wanted to see them; I [Page 39] fear'd, and wish'd, and wanted I knew not what; I fled from my self, I ask'd not whither; and when I most resolv'd to shake off my sorrows, and seek for Happiness in a new Love, I've found a pleasure in my present pain, and doated on my griefs for the sake of her who brought them. But the fair ones no sooner arriv'd, than all my cares were husht, sorrow slept, and no Melancholy thought disturb'd my dawning Hea­ven. I cou'd look on my new acquaintance with an' air wholly chang'd, and observ'd that the fairest often fixed her Eyes on mine; and when she spoke, Love and Modesty shar'd all her words between them. But time (which to unthinking Lovers still seems short) flew quick away, and Night with all her gloomy shades ap­proaching, the Ladies retir'd to their respective Lodgings.

The tender-hearted fair one, after some small refusals, at last permits me to wait upon her to hers. My thoughts were so pleasantly imploy'd, I ne're examin'd the way she chose, and was surpris'd to see her stop at mine. I beg'd she'd allow me the Happiness of waiting upon her to hers, and she told me, I had already done so. Thus we parted, and I enter'd some time after, without acquainting her that I lodg'd in the same House. A few minutes after, my Heart seem'd entirely hers, and when it had for a while enjoy'd it self with the thoughts of a new Beau­ty, and judg'd the Conquest past, its first Mi­stress wou'd return, recall the wand'rer, and force him to obedience; and the fair Timan­dra still possess'd a Heart, in spight of its owner.

We often met, and the Charming Olmechine, (for that was the name of this kind fair one) at last let me know she lov'd. But did it with all the modesty of her Sex, show'd a strong and nice Virtue, with a powerful Love; paleness o'respread her Face, trembling dwelt upon her Lips, her Eyes were fix'd upon the ground, and her Words were moving, but her Beauty more. 'Twas then, that Love show'd himself a capri­cious Deity; for the Maid no sooner had at­tack'd my Heart, than 'twas entirely yours. I had Eyes no more for her, and my inclinations be­ing wholly chang'd, I receiv'd the tender ad­dress with more indifferency, than good breed­ing or gratitude cou'd well allow. However, when I had recollected my self, I gave her all that Satisfaction she cou'd justly expect from a heart she knew wholly prepossest, and now firmly fortified against a change, I see her home at Night, and inform her, that I lodg'd in the same House, she blush'd at the unexpected adven­ture, and tho' she lov'd, was sorry to know a Man under the same Roof with her self, that was conscious to her weakness. Next day I din'd with her, where I made my acquaintance with her Aunt; and whom I found to be the Mistress of the Family. The old Gentlewoman entertain'd me very kindly, and commended my shape, mien, and garb, with all the gallan­try, of which one at twenty is capable; and I return'd her Complements with that careless gra­vity, to which my griefs permitted me not to be a stranger. At night she came to my Room; and under the notion of asking, if things were in that order I wish'd them, spent some [Page 41] hours in my Company. I cou'd observe, while she stay'd, that nothing pleas'd her so much, as when the Subject was Love: The Blood spark­led through her buff Cheeks, and Love lay burning in her deadned Eyes. Next day I found her painted and dress'd, with that gallantry that only fitted Brides of fifteen, and I was a second time oblig'd to accept of a splendid Entertain­ment from her. Thus she continu'd kind, and every day gave me new grounds of suspecting the old Letcher inflam'd. While the Aunt made daily advances, the lovely Niece saw me but seldom; and when she did, 'twas with all the bashfulness of a guilty young sinner, whose Virtue had newly been seduc'd. I paid her all those respects she deserv'd, and gave my Pity when I had no more. She'd sigh, look pale, and gently hang her head; then leave me sad, because I cou'd not love. Attabalippa, (for that was the Aunt's name) in time became a per­fect plague, she haunts me like a Ghost, my Will and Actions seem the guide of hers, and she does nothing, in which her hopes to please me has not a share. This made me look out for new Lodgings, and I was ready to depart, when my Servant Curacas came and told me, the fair Olmechine lay dangerously ill of a Fea­ver; at this a sudden tenderness seiz'd me, Pity and fears lodg'd in my Breast, and a thou­sand Torments rack'd me till I saw her. I soon got admittance, and (having seated my self by her upon the Bed) enquir'd passionately after her health; the Charming Innocent wept, and sigh'd, then looking upon me with Eyes all Languishing, answer'd, I am—At this a [Page 42] new flood of Tears broke forth, and all the Charms of Beauty in distress assault my Heart, and mov'd a pity equal even to Love. Then taking hold of her fair hand, that lay above the Cloaths, I kiss'd it with all the Transports new-born flames cou'd give; conjur'd her to speak, I long'd to share her griefs; and almost wish'd my self the Cause, to have the Power of giving some relief. Thus while I mourn'd o­ver her, possess'd with all the tenderness of dying Mothers, for their weeping infants, I cou'd see her Lips (like Roses pluckt) grow pale, her Heart beat thick, and night o'respread her Eyes, her Soul half fled, and she at last lay fainting in my Arms. This adds to my sorrow, and lab'ring 'twixt grief and Love, I gently rais'd her drooping Head, and strove to kiss her back again to Life; my sighs ecchoed in her ears, and my groans awak'd her from this little death. She look'd upon me with all the Symptoms of a Love-sick Maid, and blush'd to find her self ly­ing in my Bosom, with half her Beauties open; then faintly strugling, threw her self down upon the Bed. Ah! Sir, (said she) for Heav'ns sake, think me Virtuous, tho' you've found me weak; tenderness for your loss first begot my Love, then use it as the darling Child of that gene­rous passion, and not the effect of a mind un­fix'd; pardon the excess of a flame so pure, and give me pity, if you cannot Love. I answer'd these obliging words with all the sweetness which her Charms inspir'd, and if a flame equal to that of hers did not then possess me, I told her, my Gratitude and her Beauty would as­sist me, and my Heart shou'd quickly bid adieu [Page 43] to its old Mistress, to entertain one whose merit justly claim'd a better. This eas'd the Maid, and I left her more sound in mind and better than I found her. Attabalippa met me just as I came out, and forc'd me with her back into the Room. Olmechine blush'd at the unexpected Happiness, and was scarce able to look upon her Aunt, be­cause her Lover look'd and was so nigh. She was glad to see her Niece alter'd to the better; and going to the other end of the Room, view'd her self in a large Glass, opposite to the Bed, and ask'd me, smiling, how I lik'd her dress? Then told me, how such a one had lov'd her, that a Lord had dy'd for her, and that most of the Youth in Chira still sigh'd for her, and wondered where that Beauty lay which charm'd them. I answered her dotage very modestly, and Olmechine, (whose Feaver was now abated) took particular notice of all that past; was a­sham'd of her weakness, and sensibly touched to find a Rival where she least look'd for one. In the mean time, the old Gentlewoman, who had forgot something below Stairs, quitted the Room, after she had desir'd me to wait upon her Niece, and divert her melancholy thoughts till she return'd. I look'd upon the fair one, with an Air that spoke me pleas'd with the op­portunity and imployment; and she, with a Charming Voice, told me, she was not the only Conquest I had made; and tho' she fear'd some ill Consequences from her Aunt's passion, yet she had the satisfaction of seeing Age inflam'd, and lookt upon it as some excuse for hers. I con­fess'd I had been long sensible of that esteem her Aunt had for me, but that it had never met [Page 44] with any Encouragement; that since her Charms had been able to drive Amazonta (for so I had always call'd you) from my Heart, they were sufficient guards against the fond assaults of an old Woman, whom I esteem'd only, because of that Relation she had to her I lov'd. The fair one, sighing, answer'd all I said with so much modesty, she look'd like innocence her self, and told me, her past misfortunes yielded to her present Happiness, that all her losses doubly were repay'd, and she no more complain'd of cruel fortune. Her Face and Breeding spoke her Quality beyond her present Circumstances; and seeing she was able to speak without preju­dice to her health, I gently press'd she'd let me know who it was had taken the happy Con­querour Captive, and if my Love was able to repay the least part of her by past Sufferings. She, all goodness, and full of love, after a few Tears, began. Here Adrastus stopt, and wait­ed my consent to the Relation of Olmechine's story; which, Madam, for your divertisement, I likewise send you; and if my Letter be of too great length, impute it to my Obe­dience, and the desire I have to serve you.

MY Father was a Man well known in Nai­trant, by the Title of Manco, an Earldom which was long possess'd by a noble series of his famous Ancestors, handed down to him with ad­ditional Honours, which their Kings according to their Merits had bestow'd. In his Youth he discover'd a thousand signs of that extravagan­cy which possess'd him in his Elder Year's. At Masks he still appear'd with all the gallantry [Page 45] of Youth, dress'd profusely, but danc'd well, had [...] pleasant Countenance, but a large stock of Ill-nature, a refin'd Wit imploy'd to ignoble uses; quarrel'd with all men, and seem'd a bubble to each Rook he knew. His Father (whom Hea­ven had bless'd with no more Children) griev'd to see that Son, from whom his Age had hop'd so many Blessings, the cause of endless fears. And to reclaim him from his wildness, thought Marriage the best expedient. Almado, his Friend and Neighbour, (a Man equal to himself in Birth and Fortune, the Father of two Daugh­ters) had often propos'd an Alliance with his Family; and of this he now resolves to ac­cept. The Match is immediately agreed upon between them, and my Father Accompanies the old Earl to Almado's House, where he saw the Charming Arathea (for that was my Mother's name) and seeing Lov'd. She, whom Fame had acquainted with his Nature, and her Father with his business, had that grief upon her Soul the accident might justly give. This languish­ment adds to her Beauty, and to his Flame. Al­mado, who was of a gen'rous temper, was sor­ry to see his Daughter averse to what he thought conduc'd so much to her welfare, and tells her all the Advantages that attend so great a match, that the Love my Father had for her wou'd settle his roving thoughts, and stay his Soul at home. Her Beauty wou'd doubtless reclaim him. That Marriage wrought such changes, was evi­dent from every day's experience; and that Youth in that state, were oblig'd to reckon themselves amongst the number of men, and as such to live; that a lovely Woman had more Eloquence [Page 46] than a grave Philosopher, and Love to Vir [...] join'd, more power than Vice with all her Ma [...] about her. The Daughter naturally Pio [...] knew what she ow'd to her Parents, and show' [...] Obedience by a quick consent. The old Ea [...] was overjoy'd at his good success; bless'd h [...] Friend, and the happy hour which gave hi [...] Daughter Birth. Their hopes were equal, an [...] their thoughts flew high, and every hour of ad­ded life was look'd upon as Cyphers joyn'd to the numbers of their Blessings. But this plea­sant Scene, was not of long duration; for the Brave Almado, had the misfortune, to be ac­cus'd by Villains, (Enemies to Virtue) of some designs against his Prince, and was forc'd to seek for safety in another Nation, where he shortly after dy'd. Old Manco griev'd for the misfortune of his Friend; but more to see his Eldest Daughter ill us'd by his own Son, and the other expos'd a prey to Contempt and Poverty, because her Father's Fortune answer'd for his seeming guilt, and pay'd for Crimes not his. But as if Heaven had design'd my Mother for the longest sufferer, the Earl (after he had settled a small part of his Estate upon her Sister Attabalippa) dy'd, and left the disconsolate A­rathea, to mourn a loss which Fortune ne're attempted to repay.

Manco soon forgot the loss of a Father, whom he had always look'd upon as an allay to all his Pleasures; and now being entirely Master of himself and Fortune, he aims at Vice in all her pomp, keeps an Army of Footmen, plays inces­santly at Cards with every Sharper, and pays a double price for every pleasure. While thus he [Page 47] liv'd, I came into the World, and tho', he look'd upon my Mothers Charms and Virtue, as things not worthy of his serious thoughts, yet upon this occasion there was nothing wanting that Money, master'd by a lavish mind, could bring, and the poor Countess mourn'd in state, to see her Infant born to cruel wants. Some­time after it, he sold one half of his Fortune, to appease the rageing hunger of some gaping Creditors; the remaining part cou'd not long supply his Disbursements, and he at last reduc'd it all to nothing. My Mother wearied out with this long Scene of misery, in a short time sunk beneath the burden of her misfortunes, and smil­ing plung'd into the other World; while I, whom Heav'n preserv'd to sport it self withal, was taken care of by her Sister, upon whom the Earl (as I have already told you) had settled a small part of his Estate. She was not of A­rathea's temper, Gallantry seem'd the business of her life, and tho' she was always Virtuous, yet her Conduct seldom made her thought such, for innocence it self, is not sufficient for a Wo­man, unless she also study to appear so; because the World, which only views the outside of af­fairs, seldom offers to give its Judgment of things as they really are, but as they seem to be. I had reach'd the twelfth Year of my Age, when Manco asham'd of what was past, and terrified with the prospect of future disgrace and con­tempt, (the Companions of Poverty by madness brought) abandon'd his House and Relations, and threw himself naked upon the World, in the quality of one of her beggar'd Sons, pos­sess'd of nothing, but what in time she might [Page 48] bestow upon him for tedious Years of toyls, and hated labour. What few friends his poverty had left him, were sorry for the accident, but none strove to give relief; and upon second thoughts; inwardly rejoyc'd to see the poor spendthrift gone, tho' they knew not whither. My few Years did not protect me from a due feeling of these Misfortunes; and that Beauty, which already began to display it self in my Face, now droopt and languish'd e're its day had dawn'd, and darkness strugled with the glimm ring Light.

My Aunt still made a considerable figure in the World, and strove to maintain some part of the Grandeur of her Family, upon that small Estate Manco had given her; and I was by those, ig­norant of our Circumstances, reputed a Woman of no small Fortune. This gave me the trouble of some Lovers, amongst whom were the Lord Avilon's two Sons, men of infinite parts; the Eldest was tall, of good Shapes, had an incom­parable Air, danc'd well, and sung to a wonder, but addicted to Anger and Jealousie, passions of sufficient force to oppress a large stock of Vir­tues. The Younger was all good Nature, of a prompt and piercing Wit, Eloquent beyond expression, had the softness of a Woman in his Voice, and all the Courage of that mighty Ceature Man in his Soul. I was equally be­lov'd by both, each strove to gain a Heart in­sensible of their merits, and tho' the youngest had a great share in my esteem, yet neither of them possess'd my Love. Thus for a while they Courted, the present still speaking to the Advanvantage of the absent, till Duverr (for that was the name of the Eldest) o'recome by his [Page 49] [...]ealousie, quarrel'd with his Brother, (the Hand­some Sevilus) by whom (after a few thrusts) he was kill'd, in a field adjoyning to our House. The Young unfortunate Conquerour, kiss'd the wounded Clay wept over him some Hours, and then (consulting his own safety) fled. His Father us'd all his interest at Court, to obtain a pardon for his only Son; and Canador our pre­sent Soveraign (all Mercy) grants it soon as ask'd. But he never returning, it was useless, and the afflicted old Man (now concluding both his Children lost) in a few Years dy'd, hav­ing left his Estate to the next Heir-Male, if his absent Son return'd not.

I cou'd not longer live in the Country, where I was look'd upon as the cause of so many mis­chiefs. My Aunt, whose fortune now began to ebb, was perswaded by necessity, and we came to Chira, where unknown we have liv'd these five Years without a change of Fortune; nor have we yet heard what became of my poor un­fortunate Father, or the young Sevilus, now (if alive) Lord Avilon. The Court and foreign Trade renders the City very populous, and pri­vate Families reside in it unregarded. Thus you see Sir, (continued the afflicted Fair) how mis­fortunes have pursu'd me from my Infancy, and I have now added sensibly to their number, by that weakness of which you have found me guilty.

Here she ended, and the story wrought that Im­pression, which the affliction of the fair Sex does on generous Souls. I was all pity, all tenderness, all sorrow; and each of these were swallow'd up in Love. I wish'd her all the Happiness the love­liest [Page 50] of her Kind e're possess'd; swore my con­stant Love shou'd attone for part of her past ills, clasp'd her gently in my Arms, laid her all languishing to my Breast, and whisper'd com­fort to the kind afflicted. She (whom Love had not robb'd of Modesty (reprov'd me mild­ly for the rudeness, and said, she fear'd I doubt­ed much her Virtue, when I thus presum'd upon her Love. I answer'd this with words that sufficiently spoke it the effect of my passion and my grief, for a thought that differ'd so much from my real intentions or sentiments; Madam, (cry'd I) believe me I love, that I think you Virtuous, that I lament your past sufferings, and shall be ever yours. The Aunt jealous of her Niece's Charms, made all the dispatch she cou'd of any affairs that kept her from me, and enter'd just as I pronounc'd the last words. At first she stood amaz'd at what she saw, but (willing to conceal that concern she had for the discovery) turn'd it into Raillery, and smiling ask'd her Niece, if she stood in need of a Love-Physician, to compleat the Cure of her Feaver. Olmechine only smil'd; and I, who was obliged to answer for both the offenders, told Attabalippa, that I shar'd in her Niece's sickness; that my Heart was naturally tender, that Women's pains (if fair) were all my own; and that I was glad of her arrival, and thereupon show'd a Picture, (done by the best Master of the World, which I val­lu'd at a hundred Guineas.) This, Madam, (said I) the fair Olmechine at first view admir'd, but when I beg'd she'd accept the small Complement, it was answer'd, you better deserv'd it, and I swore it shou'd be ever hers. At this you ap­pear'd, [Page 51] as if kind fortune had sent you to decide the difference. The old Gentlewoman was pleas'd to find things no worse, and decided in my favours; while the Charming Niece had Joys equal to hers, in seeing how much I fear'd, and what caution I us'd for the concealment of my flame; for Cares are always Natural signs of growing love, and our endeavours to hide any thing, a mark of that value put upon it.

In a short time the fair one was perfectly re­cover'd, and Attabalippa wou'd often call me an able Physician, and attribute the cure to my Conversation. But at last growing jealous to a degree of madness, she deny'd her that Happi­ness, and watch'd her with as many Eyes as Ar­gus e're had open, when he look'd to the Rival Cow, at the command of the jealous Goddess. While I was absent from this fond tender Beauty, my Heart would struggle 'twixt the old and new, recall to view my first and latter Vows, show Olmechine in all her sweetness, and Timandra with her Honour abandon'd for my sake, then I wou'd immediately be all yours; when with your Rival I lov'd her, when absent I forgot her; and still as the moving Object fled from my sight, the flame she had kindled burnt no longer, but serv'd to add to that I had for another. The Aunt storm'd and lov'd, saw me frequently, and had always the marks of Anger, Jealousie, and Love evident in her Countenance, and forgot not to tell me, she took notice of that inclinati­on the fond young Girl had for me, (meaning her Niece) and was sorry to see how much I contri­buted to the encrease of her passion. I deny'd all, and certainly had left Chira to be rid of so [Page 52] many tortures, if the Compassion I had for Ol­mechine's sufferings had not commanded my stay. At Night Curacas told me she had met him upon the Stairs, and desir'd to see me next Morning at the Rivers side. I fail'd not to be there, and had not waited long when she arriv'd. We spent the first part of our time upon the Wa­ter; where we discours'd our Loves anew, laugh'd at the old Aunt, pity'd her weakness, and pleas'd our selves with the hopes of coming Happiness. But the day growing hotter, we forsook the inconstant Element for one more fix'd, and chose to walk beneath some Trees which grew upon the Bank; Olmechine on a sudden stop'd, and offer'd to retire, because the King was upon the place; and I, who had never yet seen this Prince, was now resolv'd to lay hold of the opportunity. But as I was about to tell her so, the mighty Canador appear'd, of whom Fame speaks so many wonders. He discours'd familiarly with any Man that approach'd him, look'd all Majesty and Courage, yet had Mer­cy painted in his Face. We stood sometime to see what Courtiers were with him, when to the wonder of all, a young Man (with his Hair cut above his Ears, imprison'd (you'd thought so at least) in his Coat; his shoes and e­very thing about him bespeaking his Imploy­ment, and his Gloves thrown beneath his Arm­pit) approach'd. He ask'd some Persons of Quality which was the King, and having found him, bluntly demanded if he was Canador the Soveraign of Naitrant; who smiling answered he was. The Seaman immediately pulls a Let­ter out of his Pocket, and presents it with that [Page 53] grace inherent to men of his profession. The King ask'd from whom it came? And he confidently reply'd, from my Companion honest Villacus, a Man who has done your Majesty great service at Sea these Seven Years past. He came on shoar some Months ago, and after he had spent his Money with pleasure, as with toyl he gain'd it, was forc'd by Necessity to reimburse with the first opportunity, and so had the misfortune in a Civil way to borrow some pounds upon the Road from a Gentleman, for which he is now detain'd Prisoner in the Caroula, and may short­ly pay too much interest for the Mony, if your Majesty does not discharge the Sum, and relieve him speedily. The King was pleas'd to open the Letter; which we afterwards understood to be to this purpose.

Canador taken with the Adventure, laught heartily, and turning to Benizor, who then walk'd with him, ask'd if he knew any such? who reply'd he did, that they were two merry Fellows, had serv'd in his own Ship, and were extraordinary Seamen. While the King dis­cours'd the Admiral, I cou'd see the Young Tarr fix his Eyes upon Olmechine; she blusht and trembl'd, and he show'd no fewer marks of sur­prise in his Countenance; when approaching, Madam, (said he) may I ask where the fair Ol­mechine lives, and what place of this City is bless'd with so sweet a Guest? This he spoke with an Air that bely'd his habit; and she un­able to answer, only sigh'd. In the mean time the King ask'd for him, and bid him acquaint his Comrade with his success, adding, his Pardon shou'd be sent him in the Evening. He, who again appear'd a Seaman, bow'd to his Prince after avery odd manner, and tossing up his Hat (after a few Pray'rs for the King, and a languishing look to the fair Olmechine) run off, and left the Compa­ny beyond thought pleas'd with the Novelty of the address. The fair confus'd one soon quit the place, and as we walk'd homewards, I cou'd [Page 55] observe her drown'd in melancholy, that her Soul was o'reburden'd, and she was ready to sink between two very different passions, Grief and Love. I ask'd the cause with all the ten­derness of which a Man can be capable; and she answered me in the same Language she had done the lovely Seaman.

Next Morning I paid a visit to the old Wo­man, she was glad to see me, but the lovely Niece (no more what she had been) Sickned as I enter'd. The Aunt observ'd it, and Re­membring how she had been indispos'd that Night, attributed the cause to Love, and playd upon the Subject. In the mean time one of the Servants enter'd, and whispering something to Attabalippa, the dejected Olmechine told me in a moving accent; that the misfortunes of others now press'd her Heart, and new pains had seiz'd her easie Soul; that time wou'd shew me how weak she was, and I wou'd scorn her for her past kindness. This discouse amaz'd me, and I was about to tell her so, when her Aunt cry'd bring them in; the Door was immediately open'd, and I cou'd see two handsom Gentlemen enter. Ol­mechine trembl'd, look'd pale, sigh'd, and in a moment fainted. The Aunt ran with open Arms, not knowing which of them to embrace first; and cry'd, Oh Manco! Oh Avilon! The Fa­ther and the Lover equally strove to assist the Fainting fair; and each regardless of Attabalippa's kindness flew like lightning to embrace the Lovely Niece. Both raise her up, both weep, and joyntly press her Lips. The Charming in­nocent lifted up her Eyes, bless'd Heav'n, then sigh'd, and fainted o're again. At this, the [Page 56] Lover floods of Tears let fall, curs'd his own folly, rav'd because he had shewn too much o [...] Happiness at once, and had not brought h [...] Heav'n by just degrees The Father was pos­sest with all the tenderness of an afflicted Parent. He gaz'd upon her, stood motionless, and in groans spoke all his griefs. The Aunt was di­vided between hopes and fears, and my endea­vours for her recovery, gave way to those of her first Lover. At last she spoke and Charm'd them into extasie. Not smiles of new-born Infants ever were so welcome to tender Mothers, after all their pains as the first word she utter'd. After some minutes thus spent, they at last seated themselves and ask'd a thousand questions of each others For­tunes. Olmechine press'd Avilon to tell her if he was the Man who had address'd the King the preceeding day, for a Pardon to his Friend. Manco smil'd, and desir'd the Lover to satisfie her Curiosity. At this I offer'd to retire, but 'twas beg'd I'd stay. In the mean time the Young Lord began, and told her how he had met with her Father at Sea, that they had both serv'd to­gether in one Ship, that a few weeks after they came to Chira, they went into the Country to enquire after her, where by the way the Earl was apprehended for a Robbery, because he had some resemblance of the Author, and being Condemn'd, they had made use of that Strata­gem to obtain a Pardon, without discovering his Quality. That when he had left the King, he waited at the end of the Avenue and dog'd her home; and that as soon as her Father was at liberty, and they had provided themselves in handsome Cloaths, they came to wait upon her. [Page 57] The fair one wept at the story of their hard­ships, thank'd the Gods that had restor'd her Parent to her, and kneeling ask'd his Blessing. The Earl, with all that gravity in his Face which Age and misfortunes commonly imprint told her that Heav'n had now repay'd all his suffer­ings, that he saw the Errors of his Youth, and was sorry he had been the Cause of all her past miseries. Then taking Avilon by the hand; here my dear Olmechine (cry'd he) receive the Companion of my toyls and absence, my good and bad Fortunes, look upon him as the preser­ver of your Father's Life, Honour, and Estate; and the Man whom kind Heaven designs you for your Husband. At this she blush'd, and the happy young Lover throwing himself at her feet, conjur'd her to remember his past sufferings, his continued Constancy, and all his Vows. The fair one fix'd her Eyes upon mine, and with Tears answer'd all he said.

In the Morning she sent for me, and after a thousand blushes and faint sighs, ask'd me if I cou'd see her Marry'd to another. I lov'd her when present, and was scarce able to answer, but upon second thoughts told her, I cou'd see her possess'd by Avilon, because his services best de­serv'd her, and that to purchase happiness for her, I cou'd forego my own; I shew'd the hand­some Young Lover in his best shapes, and forgot not to put her in mind of those obligations she lay under to him. She confess'd his worth, but doubtcd still the truth of what I said, and ask'd me blushing if I spoke my thoughts? I swore I did; that as Compassion first begot her Love, so it had done mine; and the cause once [Page 58] remov'd, the Effect naturally ceas'd, that I cou'd mourn her misfortunes no longer, when I saw her happily Marry'd to a Man who lov'd so well; that she should ever have the greatest share in my esteem, and in my Heart take place next to Amazonta; and that for my self, I hop'd time shou'd procure me that happiness, which the thoughts of seeing her honourably match'd had already begun. I cou'd read contentment in her Eyes, and she might easily have found as much in mine. When I left her, I began more seriously to reflect on what had past; and by my hopes of future Happiness I swear, in all my search, I found not one thought that was not for this Marriage; and was confirm'd in my opi­nien, when inform'd that Avilon had bostow'd upon the repenting Manco the profits of his E­state, which he had not enjoy'd since his Father's Decease, it amounted to a considerable Sum, and wi [...]h i [...] he was able to relieve that half of his [...] which he had not sold, and that which [...]balippa possess'd became likewise his by her Death. This, Madam, I say confirm'd me much in my Resolution of seeing her Married to another. But your fair Idea which still haunt­ed me, confirm'd me more, and finish'd what was begun, my imperfect thoughts settled there and all my wishes center'd in Timandra.

The day following they were Marry'd, A­vilon [...] Mistress of all his Vows, for whom, he had endur'd Seven Years of tedious Exile; she a Lover who had restor'd her Father to his Fortune and Honour. Manco saw his Daughter Marry'd to the best of men, and her self the most Charming and Obedient Nature [Page 59] e're had fram'd, looks on his inclinations past, compares them with the present, and finds how far he had mistaken the Road to Happiness, thanks Heaven for all those hardships he had known, because they serv'd to show the value of his present Fortunes. Attabalippa was o'rejoy'd at the return of her Brother-in-Law, and the loss of a Rival, in the Marriage of her Niece, and I had all at that pleasure love and absence wou'd permit. Thus we were all happy, and a few days after began our Journey to the Country. At Olmechine's desire, I made one in this happy Company, and I cou'd observe how blest the fair one was; contentment and Love sat smiling on her Brow; and Venus, when she for the Apple strove, exposing all her graces to the Youth, was a homely Beauty, rugged and deform'd, match'd with this lovely Nymph. Joys sparkled in her Eyes, and the calmness of her Soul and Mind display'd it self in all her words. But if by chance, she fix'd her Eyes on mine, thoughts of that weakness she had lately shown, disturb'd her Peace, and fann'd expiring Fires; or if at any time they spoke of constant Loves, she'd sigh, and blush, then faintly look on me. When we had rid two days Journey, I met upon the Road an Inhabitant of Capac, of whom asking several questions, and at last concerning you, I was surpriz'd to hear him say, you'l laugh when I've told you how the Earl of Rucana Marry'd her. The words like Lightning struck me to the Heart, my Blood was chill'd, and froze within my Veins, and I had scarce the Courage to bid him tell me all: At last he did it. But good [Page 60] Gods! you only know what passions swell'd my loaded Breast! Grief, Shame, and Repentance first took place; then Joys follow'd, not to be chang'd for those the Gods possess Eternal springs and sweets seem now in view, the thoughts of for­mer pleasures are no more, all past and present va­nish'd, (like Birds of Night at the approaching Sun) at the coming of a new Heav'n. Timandra was innocent, all Lovely, all Virtue, and tho' I found too late how faulty I had been, yet to my comfort, I still remembred the Nature of the offended Fair; knew her all Mercy, and blest kind Heav'n and her. Olmechine no more ap­pear'd the same, her Eyes look'd dead, her Beauties fled, and all the footing which her Charm's had gain'd, for Years of sighs, within my faithful Breast, was in one moment by Ti­mandra won. I acquainted the happy Fair with my good fortune, and told her my Amazon­ta still was just, that her Maid had borrow'd her name, and was already Married. The kind she shar'd in my Joys, bid me post to Happiness which I oft had wish'd, and had so well deserv'd. Mounted on Wings of Love I hither came; stole into Capac with all the privacy and inward Joy of Misers, who at dead of Night go to view their hoarded Treasure; and found Zi­belline at the Garden Door, when asking for the Object of my desires, I was inform'd the Duke was possest of all, and I for ever damn'd, and excluded that Heav'n your Mercy had tempted me to hope. I enter'd, found you sleeping, sigh'd over you, till my trembling Soul prompted, by the Heav'n-like outside, strove [Page 61] to abandon my Body, and possess it self of yours; and while thus I labour'd you awak'd, and by your griefs you taught me what to hope.

Here Adrastus ended; and, Madam, I cou'd wish you'd spare me the shame and trouble of Writing what follow'd. Yet had the Trojan look'd but half so fair, the Tyrian Queen was happy even in flames; for to live without him, had brought new pains each moment of her life, and all her Years had been consum'd in sor­row; or had he when at Sea so lovely been, the Queen of Heav'n had laid her Anger by and smil'd upon him, Winds had for ever been in Chains ty'd up, and mutter'd for new vent within their Cells. While she above in contem­plation wrap'd, had seen the Waves plow'd up by Trojan Ships, and kept his men from danger for his sake; Jove's Bed for ever now had nau­seous grown, and she'd have left the joys and sweets of Heav'n for the Embraces of the God­like mortal; she'd envy'd Dido, and her place supply'd, and had by flames extinguish'd rageing fires. Virtue and Marriage Vows had fled be­fore the happy Conquerour, and Cynthia her self, with all her coldness and indifferency about her, had smil'd, if this young Man had seen her in the Water, naked she'd stood and gaz'd upon his Eyes, and caught by Love, forgot to seek Re­venge, then in the heat of wild desire, expos'd to view what happy streams had hid, to tempt the Youth into an equal flame. Wonder not then, Madam, if I confess my weakness, and tell you, that I yelided, that he possess'd what was anothers [Page 62] right, and weigh'd the Blessing in the Sca [...] [...] Love.

That night he went to the Earl's (who yet knew nothing of his being in Capac) 'twas there he found the Duke, and was by both re­ceiv'd with that joy natural to a kind Brother, and a constant friend. I had complain'd of Mi­noya's unkindness, and he forgot not that Night to observe his behaviour, and found the Countess shew'd no compliance to his Passion, but what good Manners and his Quality command [...] from her. When he came to see me next morning, my Husband fond of his Company wou [...] not live without him, and he accepted of an Ap [...] partment in our House.

You may condemn me, Madam, perhaps because I did not oppose this, and shun'd [...] Man that made me betray my Honour, and [...] Marriage Vows. But I must plead the force [...] his Love, and my weakness for an excuse; [...] I hope you are no stranger to the force of t [...] Young Deity; for had Apollo, with all his cu [...] locks that wanton'd in the Wind, and all [...] Charms his Musick e're had wrought, been h [...] so taking, half so gay, the lovely Virgin ne're had fled before him; the Gods had laugh'd when she for pity cry'd, and all the Goddesses had en­vy'd her Happiness, her Heart so long cou'd not have flinty prov'd, she'd turn'd, and look'd, then lov'd, and yielded.

Adrastus thus happily posted, enjoy'd his Mistress and the friendship of her Husband, and beneath that shade the Serpent lodg'd, that stung his Honour when he seem'd secure; in [Page 63] the mean time he goes often to Rucana's, and assaults his Wife with all the Arts of Love; but she (too modest, and fortified with a stronger Virtue than I was ever Mistress of,) withstood this growing Malady, and hop'd to cure him e're her Husband took notice on't.

In the Evening Adrastus came into my Room, and there spent some hours; our security made us careless, and our repeated Joys had lull'd our wearied Souls almost into a Lethargy. I was sitting in a Chair hard by him, and my Head rested in his Bosom; the young Lover wou'd sigh, and eagerly press my hand, look languishing upon me, and tell how much he lov'd, then wonder how the Duke became so blind, and aw not Charms of force enough to move a frozen Hermit, drag him from his Religious Cell into the World again, make him lose what forty Years of cruel pennance gain'd, [...]d pull him back from Heav'n when almost [...]ter'd.

As he pronounc'd the last words, the Duke came into the Room, he look'd furiously upon me, his Eyes plainly speaking his thoughts, and going to the other end of the Chamber, seated himself in a Chair opposite to me. Adrastus was confounded at the Accident, and only griev'd for me. Then rising up, he embrac'd his friend, ask'd the cause of his sudden melancholy, from whence his frowns, and swore his Wife was Virtuous e­ven in thought. Minoya gave him small en­couragement to plead for me or himself, and wou'd have forc'd himself from his Arms, when Adrastus (after he had given me a sign to retire) threw himself upon his knees, and (to [Page 64] save my Reputation or at least my griefs) swore by that friendship which he had always profess'd towards him, Timandra was innocent, that 'twas true, she had laid open her sufferings to him, in hopes he might prevail with her Husband to abandon that passion he had for the Countess of Rucana, and that he cou'd do no less than speak passionately, and with tenderness, to ease her present griefs. The Duke, whether it was because he saw his Love to his Sister-in-Law taken notice of, or if he really believ'd what was said, I won't determine; but after a short pause he seem'd on a sudden pleas'd, and begg'd a thou­sand pardons, for that unjust opinion he had conceiv'd of his Friendship and my Virtue. Then taking Adrastus by the hand (after they had embrac'd) he led him into the Room where I was. I had thrown my self upon the Bed all drown'd in Tears; in this condition he found me, and falling down by me, he claspt me in his Arms, kiss'd me, and smil'd, Ah my dear Timandra! (cry'd he) Pardon the first Crime o [...] this Nature I e're committed, and accept of an unfeign'd Repentance. By all the pow'rs in Heav'n I love thee to distraction, and wou'd not again be doubtful of thy Virtue, to be Mo­narch of the Universe, curs'd be the thought, and may Love and Peace be ever strangers to my House, when e're I think the Just Timan­dra false. Adrastus who saw with what tender­ness he spoke, how good his Nature, and how great his Love, almost repented what he had done in prejudice to his Honour, and abhorr'd his own Treachery. But then looking on me, these Virtuous qualms forsook him. Sorrow mixt [Page 65] with Jealousie took place; he saw the Woman whom he first had lov'd, now kiss'd and ruffled in anothers Arms, and she by Vows to base com­pliance ty'd. This shook his Nature, made his Soul unfix'd, and almost turn'd his passion into madness. So mighty Jove from distant Heaven look'd down, and saw Alcmena whom helong had lov'd, now prest and folded in a Mortal's Arms, a while with Love and Jealousie he burns, and to himself he mutters sweet Revenge, swears by his God head, when Amphitrion's fled, he'l lay his Thunder and his Scepter by, descend, and in the dull Phlegmatick Husband's place, lay both a burning Lover and a God.

For some days after the Duke forbore his vi­sits to Rucana (or rather to his Wife) and A­drastus and I cou'd both of us have wish'd him oftner abroad, we began to fear that absence might lessen that flame he had for the Countess, and that which (before the return of my Lover) was my greatest torment, now became my blessing; and nothing possess'd my Mind more, than the doubts I had, of being eternally de­ny'd the Happiness of entertaining the fond young Man. These fears did not last long, but gave the way to new ones built upon better grounds; for the Duke went as frequently a­broad as ever he had done, but then he stay'd not long, or if he did, 'twas when my Lover was with him, who griev'd for this violent sepa­ration, and had no comfort but what stol'n looks bestow'd. One Evening while the Duke sat by me, he dext'rously convey'd a short Billet-deux into my Pocket, some minutes after I read it, and found it to this purpose.

Minoya according to his Resolution went, and I doubted not but that the Earl of Assapan wou'd detain him till Night, if not longer. He was a Man of a great Estate but of mean Ex­traction, possess'd every thing that makes an accomplish'd Gentleman; was a Batchelour, sel­dom given to extravagancy, lov'd Hunting, and fitted the Duke's humour exactly.

I had waited but a few hours when Adrastus came; the danger added to the wish'd for Bliss, and I like the constant Hero, took the bold Leander in my Arms, wip'd his cares from him, laugh'd at Honour, and possess'd my Love. While thus we lay in fast embraces twin'd, dreamt of no Danger but of present Joys; my faithful Zibelline came running in, half dead with fear, and almost out of breath, Madam, (she cry'd) the Duke! The Duke! Prepare,—now save—your Lover—and—your ruin'd Honour. —Adrastus (careless of himself) starts up, unsheaths his Sword, and points it to his Breast. This! This! (said he) shall find an entrance here, and pierce my panting, loving, [Page 67] tender Heart, when I abandon the too kind Timandra; the Duke shall bleed, and she shall still be safe; if now he come this Steel shall give him welcom. Trembling I caught my Lo­ver in my Arms, bid him remember all his for­mer Vows; when sighing at my feet inflam'd he lay, by all our hopes of Happiness, I swore Minoya's death shou'd bring Timandra's too. The Lover now no more of Courage knew; his Love for me a thousand fears begets, and plung'd in grief, all motionless he lies, thinking on me, but not my present danger. Then on a sudden leaping from this Trance, he cry'd, Speak! Speak! I'm yours, command me where you please. Zibelline half recover'd from her fright, within my Closet hid the hot young Man, my Husband ent'ring just as he was gone. My care­less posture as in bed I lay, deludes his fancy with the hopes of Bliss; and my Maid (who saw a fire in his Blood, and how he sigh'd, and faintly spoke my name) retir'd, and left me in his loath­some Arms. Adrastus heard with sorrow all that past, yet pleas'd to know how faintly I em­brac'd, each sigh I gave, he thought it meant for him, and all my actions spoke the joy unwel­come. So Proserpina when by Pluto caught receiv'd the Person of the ravishing God, with all those fears which tender Virgins know, and all the loathings of a lovely Maid, who had been blest with better sweeter loves; but at the last, comforts her self with this; that as she was to Hell and Pluto ty'd, for half the Year to share unequal pleasures; the other half was to be spent in Heaven.

When the Duke was gone the Lover straight appear'd, grief press'd his Brow, and anger glow'd in his Cheeks. So Mars, when taken in another's Bed, storm'd when he saw the Gods look laughing on; but more when Vulcan stood before his Eyes, and Venus blushing for her Lover lay. My dalliances with the Duke had added to my Beauty, Blood sparkled in my Face, and the marks of past loves shin'd in my Eyes. So in the Morning wat'ry Suns appear, and speak that rains were either past or coming. A­drastus smil'd to see the Danger fled, thank'd me, and swore he never shou'd forget those fears and hazards I had lately known, to give him Hea­ven and Happiness in love. Then falling on his knees he kiss'd my Hand, and stole from that low step of Bliss unto the last, we renew'd those Joys we had not finish'd, and which my Husband had almost lost us by his sudden arrival; nor did we part till we had sufficiently repay'd the inju­ry he had done.

Some days hereafter, Adrastus told me he had newly come from the Earl of Rucana, that he was Jealous of the Duke, because of some words he had accidentally let fall, and of his frequent visits; that he swore revenge, and rag'd like Hercules in his Poyson'd Shirt, or the unfortu­nate Bajazet in his Iron Cage. This gave me a thousand fears; I knew Rucana brave, lov'd much, a Man that wou'd not always be impos'd upon, and had taught the Duke once already what to expect from him. I must confess I lov'd Adrastus much, but withal cou'd not chuse but fear for a man who was my Husband, and who [Page 69] still doated on me when in my Company, mau­gre all those Charms his new Mistress possess'd. I charg'd Adrastus to run and seek him, and prevent (if possible) his visit to the Countess that Night. The Lover flew to obey me, and I rested impatient of his stay, longing to know the success of our project. In the mean time my Husband had gone to Rucana's, where after some words had past between them, (of which few were Witness) they went into the Garden to begin that Tragedy which I so much fear'd; for Minoya, after he had receiv'd three Wounds, run the Earl thorow the Body, and left him dead upon the place; that done, he leapt over the Garden wall, and coming hastily thorow the Streets with his Cloak muffled about him, in the dark and without Attendants, he was met by A­drastus, who seeing he came from his Brother's stept close up to him, and suddenly cry'd Your Grace has been last with Rucana. The Duke terrified with his guilt, dreamt of nothing less than his friend; and judging him who ask'd the question privy to what had past, drew his Sword, and at the first thrust run him into the Arm. A­drastus surpris'd with this return, concluded the Duke had a design upon his Life, and in his own defence us'd all the Arts of a good Swordsman, and left my Husband's Soul taking its flight from that passage he had given it in his left Breast. The noise of Swords had drawn a considerable number of People together, and several had seen the Duke the first aggressor, so that none offer'd to seize him. He came straight to me with his all bloody in his hand, and throwing himself at my feet; he fix'd his Eyes upon me, set the [Page 70] point to his Breast, and cry'd, Here I must re­ceive my doom for that Crime I have unwillingly committed; if Timandra acquit me, I am able to defend my innocence before the Gods themselves, but if she do not, then Adrastus falls to appease the angry Ghost of his Friend. I knew not what to think, the Duke, the Earl run equally in my Mind; his Cloaths and Sword besprinkled both with Blood, taught me to fear the worst; and I cou'd hardly say, speak on, is the Duke my Hus­band well? He all sorrow started up, stared wildly upon me, and cry'd Minoya was no more; at this I fainted, and when I came to my self a­gain, I found the lovely Murd'rer at my feet weeping and begging hard for Mercy; he show'd me his innocence, swore he wou'd love me to death, tho' extended on the Rack and all his joynts dissever'd; that if I remembred him as the Au­thor of my Husband's death, he'd own it to the World a base treacherous Murder, and throw a­way a Life that was not worth his keeping since undervalu'd by me: Then ask'd me if I cou'd see that Neck stretch'd out under the hands of a common Executioner, that I had so often em­brac'd in my longing Arms, or his Body hung in Chains like the loath'd Carcase of some wild Ruffi­an or base Malefactor, expos'd to contempt, and be the Object of each raskals mirth; conjur'd me to remember all our Joys past, his present Grief, and constant Love. Then raising himself up a­gain, he laid hold of his Sword, curs'd his Stars, his Fortune, and Himself; Swore he'd end his Life that moment, pointed it to his Bosom, then [...]ook'd again on me, threw it from him, fell at my feet, groan'd and melted into a Woman's [Page 71] weakness, and faintly murmur'd, can I leave Timandra? No! No! I cannot, that were to lose Heaven and Life too. In the mean time the Officers came with a Warrant to apprehend him. I heard the noise upon the Stairs, and desir'd him (but in vain) to provide for his safety. When they enter'd he arose and told them if they want­ed the Man had kill'd Minoya he was ready to answer for him. Then looking back on me, he ask'd me if he shou'd preserve his Life, or if he was indifferent to me, if the last, he knew what to do, for he cou'd ne're resolve to Live, unless Timandra Lov'd him, and seeing I did not an­swer, come (said he to the Officers) let us go where Justice calls for us, 'twixt grief and Love I faintly look'd after him, and bid him remem­ber that I ne're was cruel.

When he was gone, I began to know some respite of my sorrows, and in that state cou'd con­sider the nature of the Accident, and my own Circumstances. I remembred the Duke's Love when I marry'd him, his good Nature and fond Compliance with every thing I desir'd. Then call'd to view Adrastus, saw him my first Lover, Constant to a wonder, that had conceal'd those favours from the World which I had bestow'd upon him, had kill'd his Friend in his own de­fence, full of Repentance, but more of Love; despising his Life for my Love, and setting that value upon things, just as he found I esteemed them. Then I was all fear for him, I saw the Duke's Friends already his Enemies, and knew how Justice might be wrested. But still my cares give place to flattering Hope; I remembred we were now both single, that Heaven seem'd to [Page 72] have ordain'd us for one another, because of that Sympathy between our Hearts and Natures, and dreamt already of a Heav'n to come; for fear is but the prospect of a future ill, which pain'd we view and yet might shun with ease, cause when our thoughts on Phantoms are employ'd, Gi­ants are made, which the next moment annihi­lates.

While thus I strove to delude and cozen my self, it was told me the Earl of Rucana was found dead in his own Garden, that some People had seen the Murderer make his escape over the Wall, and had pursu'd him so close, they saw him as­sault the Gentleman by whom he was kill'd, and punish'd for that Blood he had so lately shed. I was heartily sorry for the Accident, and equally griev'd the loss of that good unfortunate Man and his fair Countess, who felt double torments, because she knew (tho' innocent) her self the cause of this great mischief. But then to allay my sorrow, I look'd on Adrastus as Earl of Ru­cana, and imagin'd Heav'n had wrought that unlook'd for Happiness, because it design'd to give me joy in full; scorn'd a scanty Bliss weigh'd out by Drams and Scruples, and threw upon me what my ambition scarce durst hope for.

The Duke's Relations came frequently to see me, and to condole with me that loss, which up­on second thoughts I scarce esteem'd one. I cou'd have wish'd them less kind, or at least less for­mal; and 'twas a hard task for me to dissemble my real thoughts, and feign a sorrow equal to my loss. But harder when they prest me to in­form them if any words or actions proceeded the Duke's death, from which they could infer pre­meditated [Page 73] Murder, and construed all Adrastus e're had done to serve their purpose; and I had it (by some of my best Friends) privately told me, that they suspected me conscious to the de­sign, because I had always shown a more than common esteem for the Murd'rer. This most of all afflicted me, not that I fear'd any present danger from their Malice, but because I look'd upon it as an impediment to that Marriage I had already promis'd my self with Adrastus, and con­sidered how evidently I ruin'd my Honour and Reputation, if I took to my Bed the Man who had kill'd my Husband, and whom too many judg'd the wilful Author of his death, to promote and secure his own Happiness.

While I was thus distracted between the di­stant prospect of future Happiness and present Cares; Zibelline told me that Curacas had some­thing of Consequence to impart to me. I long'd to know what was become of his Master, if he bore his confinement patiently, and if he still lov'd me. The faithful Servant answered me with sighs, and delivered me that Letter which con­firm'd all my fears. The words were these, if I remember.

This Letter gave me all the sorrow imagina­ble, I had lost my Husband, and was then con­vinc'd I shou'd lose my Lover too. I knew part of what the World thought of me, and found I shou'd be left to mourn my Misfortunes by my self. My Mother was dead several Months be­fore that time, and whether she suspected the frail­ty of my Virtue or not, I am not positive, but there wanted not those who said she did, and that it made too deep an impression upon her Heart, and conduc'd to her speedier Journey into the other World.

At Night the mourning Lover came, I re­ceiv'd him with that sorrow which our mutual Misfortunes had taught me; and he unable to speak, embrac'd my knees, wept, and look'd up­on me. Thus for a while we continued dumb, and experienc'd the Truth of that Maxim, that Wounds are deepest and most dangerous that Bleed inwards. But at last this Lethargy which often attends immoderate grief, was by degrees weakned, and the lovely Youth could faintly pronounce these words. Can the merciful Ti­mandra be my Enemy? Can she consent to my Banishment from Capac? And shall I be blest with her presence but three short days? (for no more have my Judges allow'd me) And must the remainder of my Life be spent in absence, a Hell sufficient for the Punishment of Parricide? Nay [Page 75] broken Vows or inconstant Love, a Crime yet greater, and known only amongst Infidels. I shar'd all his pains, and after I had ask'd him if he had stol'n with privacy enough to my House; I caught him in my Arms, kiss'd him, and spoke all that my tender Heart could dictate to give him ease. He still urg'd his Constancy and Love, his present misery and prospect of a greater, con­jur'd me to be yet more kind, and since he could not permit me to go along with him into a strange Country, beg'd I'd consent to Marry him and tye my self for ever his: Time, his inno­cence, and his Friends might have his Sentence repeal'd, and he doubted not if I lov'd him now, of being more happy in his own Country, than ever he had yet been. He set before me a full Enjoyment of that Heaven in Love which hi­therto we had only tasted; that his Innocence was evident to every Man, whose opinion was not prejudicated, that none wou'd condemn me, but those who envy'd my Charms and Happi­ness; that Honour at best was but a Chimera in­vented to please giddy fools, and perswade them into a belief of their own worth, merit, and judgment, e're the pleasures of Love were fully known; and preach'd up by Women in Years, to keep younger ones from sharing the Blessing. That nothing was more Honourable (if I wor­ship'd that shadow) than a constant passion. It spoke us fix'd in our Choice, and by consequence of a good Judgment, that enabled us at first to make that Choice of which we had never repent­ed. That we were born to love, that without it we were meer pieces of moving Earth, dull Phlegmatick lumps, fit only for the Conversati­on, [Page 76] or at least the Company of Brute Beasts, that it could ne're be known, (meaning my Marriage) that he knew how to value my Beau­ty, and, that even when old Age seiz'd me I would be still the same to him; he'd call my first Embraces back to view, remember what I then was, and again think me the same, for tho' he graspt me cold and wither'd in his Arms, he'd delude himself with the fancy or Idea of my Youth, imagination shou'd supply what Years had lost, and I shou'd be still the Charming, Gay, the Young, belov'd Timandra. In short, Madam, I was again o'recome by this invinci­ble Lover; and tho' Minoya had been buried not above eight weeks, I gave my hand and with it my Heart to this Young graceful Man, tho' not before we had brib'd a jolly Priest with a handful of Pistols to a silence equal with that of the Grave, and I had obtain'd my Husband's promise not to depart the Kingdom, but to live privately with me till Fortune shou'd be as much his friend as Love had been. We spent the Night with that pleasure known only to happy Lo­vers; some fears and cares we had which serv'd to give it taste, but none sufficient to destroy the Blessing.

In the Morning he waited upon his Friends, who all sincerely griev'd his Misfortune, and he seemingly prepar'd every thing for his sudden departure. Three days thus spent, he took a solemn farewel of them all without sorrow, be­cause in me he found all that made him happy, for the possession of those belov'd is at any time a double recompence for the loss of Liberty.

It is not, Madam, the custom of our Coun­try, to mourn the loss of a Husband above a week, and the gravest Matrons are satisfied with the long penance of Fourteen days in Tears. So that I was already Courted by several who had envy'd the Duke's Happiness; and that Beauty which prov'd always fatal to my self and others, in a short time got me a new crowd of Adorers, and tho' I was not look'd upon as a Woman nicely Virtuous, yet still my Eyes atton'd for that defect, and the more solid part of Mankind judg'd (because I was Young) that a Grave Husband and good advice might reclaim me, and work wonderful changes and effects upon my easie Nature. Amongst the first that claim'd my Love Assapan appear'd, I have already, Ma­dam, given you the Character of that Man; but shall now add that Love had transform'd him, for tho' he was every way a Man truly taking, and one that well deserv'd a Lady's good opini­on; yet this passion to which he had been most­ly a stranger, wrought great alterations. For whereas he was formerly addicted to Hunting, Riding, and such Manlike Exercises; he became now tender in his Nature, gentle and Complai­sant, spoke passionately, lov'd dancing, Poetry, Romances, and had all the softness and inclinati­ons of a Lover. He griev'd the loss of his Friend Minoya, but had too great an esteem of me, to believe what some People spoke of my betraying his Honour or my own.

Adrastus (who mov'd no farther from me than into the Garden or another Room) knew all that past, and was the more happy in his Confinement, when he saw others labour to ob­tain [Page 78] what he unknown and with ease possest▪ For if the Addresses of a Gallant serve often to reclaim the Heart of an indifferent Husband; much more must the real passion of another in­flame a Man that lov'd so violently. But For­tune that was never my Friend, at last betray'd the secret Lover. For Assapan (one day as he came to my House) met the happy Man at the Garden Door. They were equally surpriz'd and equally griev'd the unluckly encounter. Adrastus however embrac'd him, and told him he had not yet departed Capac, because Love had been his Friend, and had till that time protected him. That his Life and Honour were now in his hands, and he dreamt no danger from a Man of Assapan's merit. The Earl answered with that Discretion or Judgment which was natural to him; but withal let him know he had been unkind, in not trusting to his Friendship before Necessity (not Choice) had taught him so to do. Adrastus alledg'd for an excuse, how much I was concern'd in his Conceal­ment, and that it was not Honourable to betray a Lady's secrets, especially those of love, without her positive command for it; and hop'd he wou'd Pardon a Crime of which love not want of Friend­ship was the Author. Assapan smil'd, and gave him all those assurances of his safety which Oaths or words could yield; and after they had dis­cours'd some time about the injustice of his Sen­tence, they came to see me. I was amaz'd at the unlook'd for Accident, and had almost fainted with the sudden Apprehension of my Husband's danger. When Assapan, who saw my fears, ap­proach'd, and begg'd a thousand Pardons for be­ing the Author of my griefs; Swore he was glad [Page 79] to see his Friend happy, commended my choice, and added, he wou'd not disturb my happiness, (tho' he lov'd much) to be Master of the World. I return'd him those thanks his kindness merited, excus'd my self for not having sooner acquaint­ed him with my Circumstances, that it did not suit with my modesty, and that I was not sorry for his knowledge, because 'twas what my heart wou'd willingly have inform'd him of before. He answer'd, that my Honour and his Friends safety should be his greatest Care, that it was not convenient for my interest, that he shou'd leave off his Suit so suddenly, because the World had already seen him my Lover, that while he continued his addresses, none could suspect him conscious of my real Fortunes, and he would for the future proclaim to all, my vir­tue, as hitherto he had done his Love.

I was o'rejoy'd at this Resolution the more, because I did not think he would have born the Misfortune so patiently, or the Affront I put upon him with so much Moderation. When he was gone, Adrastus (who had dissembled his real Thoughts) began to let me know his Fears, that he doubted Assapan's virtue would not be proof against so many Charms; that Love and Beauty had often destroy'd the most setled Reso­lutions, and trampled Honour under Foot: that he was a dangerous Friend, and knew the Arts of Love, and all the weakness of a Woman's na­ture. I found the aim of all this Discourse, and cou'd almost have reprov'd him for his fears. But then considering his Jealousie as the Child of Love, I smil'd, and embrac'd him, gave him all the Blessings mighty Love bestows, and lull'd his fears asleep.

Assapan came frequently to see me, and I could observe nothing in his Words and Actions, that was not quadrant to those Promises he had lately made me. But at last, prevail'd upon ei­ther by the heat of his Love, or the hopes of my weakness, he made those Addresses which did not at all please me, and swore Adrastus was too happy, that he could no longer be my Friend or his, but a Lover to the one, and a constant Rival to the other. This cruel and sudden change gave me inexpressible sorrow, and taught me to fear a thousand Mischiefs; then, as an addition to my Affliction, I saw it was what I cou'd not safely communicate to the lovely Partner of all my Cares, for when mighty pains are in one Bosom found, 'tis over-charg'd and may in time be rent, but having got a breast that shares the load, they straight take Wing and leave the oppressed Heart, the o'reburden'd Soul mounts upwards, joys in its new Liberty, and finds its Weights remov'd.

In the mean time the Earl continued his Visits, and fail'd not to urge the violence of his flame, in words that never express'd a modest Love; and one Day (the most unfortunate I er'e had seen, or now can know) told me, if I was not marry'd to Adrastus, I was not virtuous, and if I was, it spoke me regardless of my Honour, if I consider'd him as the Author of Minoya's death, and remembred what the World thought of me in that Husband's time.

You see, Madam, how Men are converted by Love into as many different Resolutions and Humours as Proteus e're knew shapes; he who a few Days ago was all Love, all Friendship [Page 81] and Tenderness, now became ill-natur'd, indis­creet, and unkind. I was about to let him know how much I resented what he had said, but then I remembred the weight of that secret with which my ill Fortune had intrusted him, and with grief and anger painted in my Face, told him, he spoke not like the gen'rous Assapan, for he was my Friend, nor could I believe the words meant to the Dutchess of Minoya, because I was assur'd he once lov'd her, and had a better opi­nion of her Virtue. When he saw me so mo­dest and calm in my Answer, I fancy he was at first sorry for his indiscretion; but when men once doubt a Woman's virtue, 'tis impossible they should Love, and where there was Love in the beginning Lust supplys its absence; though her faults have make her too deform'd for a Wife, yet her Beauty serves to make her good enough for a Mistress; besides, those who are known to have yielded to one Man, are often (if not always) by the uncharitable World sus­pected of the same weakness towards another.

Thus it was with the unkind Earl, for (after he had paus'd some Minutes) he told me I must consent to his Happiness, or begin my own Misery. This sentence flash'd like lightning to my Heart: I remain'd silent, anger and sor­row shar'd my Thoughts, and all my Courage was scarce able to support me. He saw my Countenance, but mistook my Passion, and from my silence drew Consent, caught me in his Arms, kiss'd me, and ask'd if I was yet resolv'd to bless him with Enjoyment? All his words were wounds, each of them reach'd my Soul, and I still continued dumb. This he concludes a [Page 82] faint denial, embrac'd me in his Arms again, and when I offer'd to resist, or call for help, he swore Adrastus should answer for my unkind­ness with his Life. Fear made me weak, and the sudden assault bore my Virtue head-long before it. Weeping I lay beneath the treacherous Mass, and wish'd each moment he consum'd in Joy, might bring whole Years of cruel deadly Pains. The gods look'd on and saw Lucretia ravish'd, no wonder then they had no Thunder bolts in store, to relieve one who so often had offended.

While thus in height of Pleasure he lay drown'd, remembred what had pass'd to move a new desire, rov'd wildly and immodestly o're each part to kindle expiring Flames, and surfeit­ed with Joy still sought for more. The un­lucky Adrastus (led by wild Chance, or by un­erring Fate) enter'd the Room to find his lov'd Timandra. I saw him first, but gods you only know what torments seiz'd my Mind, and rack'd my guilty Soul! A while he stood immovable and gaz'd, then fury enter'd, and his judgment fled, all thoughts of mercy from his nature were excluded; revenge (the darling of his Soul) grew high, and in that frenzy drawing nigh the Bed, with one dire stroak (as swift and sudden as if from Heav'n it had come) he stab'd the guilty Ravisher to the Heart. Curs'd be the hour (he cry'd) when first I lov'd, but doubly that in which I first betray'd Minoya! Heav'n! just Heav'n! has now repay'd that injury I did him. The Earl groan'd, grasp'd at his Sword, and in that Acti­on dy'd. Besmear'd with Blood all mixt with briny Tears, trembling and fainting from the [Page 83] Bed I rose, then threw my self half dead upon the Ground, weakly I grasp'd the Murderer's shaking Knees, and in my Arms with dying fervour hugg'd them, beg'd as he still had lov'd, he'd now prove kind, and if he thought my Heart had given consent, he'd tear it panting from my treacherous Breast; or if he'd make me Mistress of that Steel, that smoak'd with a Letcher's Blood yet hot upon it, my guilty Arms or Limbs that grasp'd the Ravisher, or in the least contributed to the advancement of his Pleasure, and spurr'd his triffling Lust to greater fiercer Flights, should in a moment be divided from my Body, even that tender Body which he had so oft embrac'd, and thrown away as things of dangerous Consequence to the rest, now grown infectious base and useless. Con­jur'd him to remember, how at my Feet he sighing lay, when just return'd from Chira, how he had beg'd and lov'd that Night I re­ceiv'd him for my Husband, and how for his sake I had abandon'd Honour, Virtue and my Vows, and all that peace of Mind which inno­cence bestows, and those who deviate from the right ne're know. Trembling he held the fatal Dagger up, view'd me with rolling Eyes, and wildly cry'd, Ah Heaven! Must she dye, and must Adrastus be the Author—No!—Oh Timandra! Why wert thou not less Fair, or more Virtuous? And I, unhappy I, less in Love. This said, he kneel'd and clasp'd me in his Arms, bid me farewel, and remember him no more; then starting up, he exclaim'd against Heaven and me, rav'd for some Minutes, then again grew calm; bid me again farewel, and [Page 84] beg'd I would forgive what he had said; then forc'd the bloody Dagger to his Heart, and fall­ing by me on the Floor expir'd. I shriek'd when that sad stroak was given, strove to recal his parting Soul, and stop its flight to Heav'n. I pull'd the dreadful instrument of Death from that Breast, where I had so often rested my wel­come Arms, when wearied with excess of Love, and that so often equally shar'd my Joys and Cares, kiss'd his pale Cheeks, and wash'd them with my Tears. I remembred all his kind Looks, his sweet Embraces, his moving Words, his Charms, and constant Love; and to summ up all my griefs in one Word, Adrastus was no more, for me he liv'd, and for my Crimes he dy'd.

The first who enter'd the Room were Zibel­line and Curacas. The sad Object mov'd both their pity and wonder; the faithful Servant em­brac'd the dead Body of his once kind Master, and (if he had not been prevented by my Maid) had certainly posted after him into the other World. This would have added to my grief, if it had been capable of Addition. I told them the whole series of this Tragical Story, and Assapan's Body confirm'd the Truth. Then af­ter I had long deliberated on what was to be done, and consider'd the shame and hazard that attended my stay, I took what Jewels and Mo­ney I had, and that very night (attended only by my faithful Maid and the Servant of my departed Husband) I began my Journey, for­tunate beyond my hopes, since it made me known to you. I need not, Madam, tell you, how after I had travell'd eight long Days and [Page 85] Nights o're-whelm'd with grief, and surrounded with deadly Fears, and having lost my way, my pitying Stars directed me to your House. Let it suffice, that when I left you I went with­out any danger beyond Seas, where I have con­fin'd my self to a Monastry, and tho' I am dai­ly oblig'd to attend Religious Excercises, I have nevertheless found a time to give you that sa­tisfaction you desir'd, and shall be glad to re­ceive that faithful Journal of your Amours, which you have promis'd to send me. I shall end with the following Lines I made at Sea in my Voy­age hither, when I have confess'd my self your Debtor for your Cousin the Abbess of M—s kindness to me.

WHen you left Coloa, all that was pleasant in it fled; Sirena was no more to be seen, and consequently nothing to which I had not an aversion. The Duke observ'd my melan­choly, and often ask'd the Cause; but seeing no hopes of discovering on't that way, he complain'd to a Young Lady who was always with my Sister. She was a Woman of a piercing Wit, violent in her Inclinations, given to Jealousie, and would stick at nothing, (how dangerous soever) if it conduc'd to her pleasure, or in the least serv'd her ambition. But to attone for these faults, she was Beautiful to a wonder, could dissemble to a miracle, and had all those Arts the most subtle of her Sex e're knew; add to these seeming Ad­vantages, Quality, and a vast Fortune; for she [Page 100] was the Earl of Sirama's only Daughter, who dying in her infancy, had left her an Estate sufficient to support her Rank in the World, e're she was oblig'd to't.

Ericis (for that was the Lady's Name) was glad of this opportunity, and fail'd not to let my Father know (for Indoretta's confidence in her seeming Friendship, had made her Mistress of the secret) what otherwise I had eternally kept from him. This sensibly displeas'd him, and having found me in the Garden, (after he had by his looks taught me what to fear) Martius (said he) must my Enemy still Triumph over me? Have I no other to betray me but my own Son? And must the Author of Turrusco's death, ruin the Honour of his Brother? No, Young Man! Yours nor your Sister's madness has not yet infected the Father, and the Event of a few days shall let you know, how far your Love is inconsistent with your Reason and Interest. This said, he left me in that amazement the unlook'd-for discovery justly gave. I suspected the weakness of Indo­retta's tender Nature, and judg'd he had by threatnings drawn this confession from her. But as I was about to conclude her guilty, she enter'd the Arbour where the Duke had left me. Tears trickled from her Eyes, her Beauties languish'd, and the lovely kind Calisto felt not half her pains, nor blush'd so much, tho' when in Streams a­mongst the happier Nymphs, she bath'd and wanton'd 'till her fault was known. I soon guest the cause, and told her how far I had shar'd in all her Misfortunes, and was not wanting in my part of this. Ah! Brother (cry'd she) can you forgive me? 'Twas I betray'd the secret, in trust­ing [Page 101] to the perfidious Ericis, she alone knew it, and 'tis she only that has ruin'd us. My grief for the accident, had not banish'd my pity from an affectionate Sister; to ease her therefore, I conceal'd a great part of my pain, and perswad­ed her to have the same esteem in appearance for the Young Countess of Sirama, she had former­ly shown in earnest.

Some days after, the Duke told me he had consider'd my weakness, and was now re­solv'd to provide for me a Wife, that (tho' Young) was acquainted with the World, and would stu­dy to preserve the Honour of his Family, which I had so evidently endanger'd, by a passion of which none but Madmen would be guilty. This discourse almost o'return'd my Obedience; and I was ready to return him an answer, that had spoke the lessening of my Duty, when he (who already perceiv'd the effect it had wrought) de­ny'd me the liberty, and on a sudden cry'd; Son remember who lays this Command upon you, that in the Afternoon you wait upon the Coun­tess of Sirama, look upon her as the Woman I have design'd for my Daughter, her Fortune ex­ceeds your Merit, and consider I have mine at my disposal. This most sensibly afflicted me; she was the Woman who had begun my misery, and whom I now saw destin'd to prolong the Scene. The Dutchess remain'd passive in the affair, and griev'd nothing more than the affliction of her Daughter, who yet believ'd her Artaxus innocent, and lov'd as much as Virtue could allow.

In the Evening I waited upon my new Mi­stress, who (tho' she was perfectly skill'd in the [Page 102] Art of dissimulation) receiv'd me with that sa­tisfaction, which discover'd it self in most of her Actions. After some discourse in which Love had the least share, she (with a seeming and feign'd tenderness) told me, she had seen the Duke very much out of humour for some days past, that she was sorry for his mistake, because she was perswaded I had never entertain'd any thoughts for Xensa's Daughter; who besides her Father's hatred to our Family, had departed from Coloa too Young to be sensible of any such flame; that she hear'd some days ago that she was Mar­ry to Count Bonzeda, and the Young Duke was passionately in Love with his Sister the fair Man­derina. Tho' I suspected the Author of Malice, yet the story carry'd so much of a seeming truth and probability in it, I was unable for some time to answer. But at last recollecting my self, Ma­dam, (said I) you hold a Correspondence it seems with Mangroa's Daughter; for Bonzeda (tho' my Relation) has not yet acquainted me with as much. However I'm glad to hear of his prudent Choice, and that Artaxus weighs his own interest and his Father's Commands; for I must confess I harbour not one thought for that Family, which is not exactly correspondent to the height of Friendship. The dissembling Fair seem'd satisfied with the Truth of what I said, and we parted for that time, I full of grief, and she of hopes.

At night I felt all those pains unhappy Lo­vers know, I griev'd my Fathers ill nature, but more the loss of Sirena; I look'd on Artaxus as a Man unjust and no more my Friend, and tho' I did not firmly believe all that Ericis had told [Page 103] me, yet it gave sufficient ground for doubts and fears to grow upon; and to doubt the loss of what we Love, brings more of Torment, than a real privation of all we possess besides. To this I added, that Bonzeda had conceal'd his hap­piness from me by Mangroa's order. In the Morning I saw Indoretta, but as yet conceal'd from her my new griefs, and resolv'd to compleat my ruine, or begin my better Fortune, by a sure knowledge of what had past. I Writ to you (my dear Friend) a Letter, the words of which I still remember.

Just as I had Writ it Furinus enter'd, I need not tell you, my dear Artaxus, the esteem I had for this Young Man, let it suffice, that he possess'd that place in my Friendship, which was next to that I always kept for the Brother of Sirena; and tho' he was something related to Ericis, and high in her favour, I had nevertheless all that confi­dence [Page 104] in him which I then Judg'd his merit claim'd as due. He soon perceiv'd that Grief under which I labour'd, and offer'd all those Re­medies I could expect from the best of Friends. 'Tis natural to all men opprest with grief and sorrow, to communicate their pains to others, either because the burden seems divided when a­nother feels a part, or else because we are ready (like sinking Mariners) to hope for some re­lief, and grasp at any thing that first presents it self, without examining if it can contri­bute any thing to our ease or safety. Thus I de­luded my self; and the Young Man (when I had told him all) with a seeming kindness, of­fer'd to convey my Letter to a trusty Friend of his at Zenitha; who would undoubtedly put it into your hands, with that secresie and conduct which the affair requir'd. I was heartily pleas'd with the opportunity, not knowing whom to trust, and after I had conjur'd him to remem­ber how much my Happiness depended up­on what he had undertaken for me, we parted.

A few hours after, the Duke sent his Page to acquaint me, that the Young Countess was with my Sister. I knew the weight of that Mes­sage, saw it impossible to shun her Company, without a manifest token of disobedience; and went into the Room with all those pains which Dedalus e're knew, when through the Air he boldly took his way, and saw the Object of his hopes behind, unwing'd and sinking, and all the pleasures of a dear bought Liberty, dash'd by the absence of his better part. —Indoretta (who knew how much my Nature was averse to this dissembling Fair) strove to give me all that [Page 105] ease which was within her Power, and forgot not to entertain my unwelcome Mistress with a thousand little indifferent Stories, to divert that necessity which had otherwise fal'n upon me, of entertaining her with another Subject, to which I had no inclination. Ericis fretted much at my Sister's seeming kindness, and could have been satisfied with half that care she show'd to please her. She often fix'd her Eyes on mine, and wou'd, with a smile (mixt with Jealousie and An­ger) frequently tell me I was a constant Lover, or a Man altogether insensible of a tender flame, and that perhaps I mourn'd a loss which might with ease be repay'd. I answer'd coldly to what she said, and often let her know by my looks, that all she spoke was unwelcome. This vex'd her to the Heart, she knew her self handsom, of a sufficient Fortune, and was Distracted when she saw her Charms neglected by a Man, for whom she had us'd so many Arts to please, and I found by the Duke's frowns next day, how far she had resented my indifferency.

Thus I liv'd for some time, felt a present pain, and had but a very confus'd prospect of a kinder Fortune. When Furinus (for whom I oft had wish'd) came to see me, and gave me that Let­ter, from which I long had hop'd for some re­lief.

'Tis impossible, my Friend, to express all those different Passions which possest me, when I read this counterfeited Mark of your sudden Change. I thankt Furinus (who was seemingly sorrowful for me) and own'd my self his Debtor for that care he had shown; swore Sirena should possess my Heart no more, that it had been too long a Slave to that false Fair One, who had so soon forgot my Services, and whole Years of Love; and that Artaxus should bleed, and with his Life attone for his fault.

I acquainted Indoretta with the Misfortune, and she bore it with that patience which becomes a Virgin Love. However I had not fail'd to acquaint you how sensible I was of the injury you had done me, and had at least been satisfi­ed how I became treacherous to a Man I had esteem'd so much, if a sudden Feaver had not put a stop to my Resolution, and prevented my intended Journey. Mangroa (tho' fix'd in the pursuit of any thing he had once begun) was nevertheless affrighted with my Danger, and al­most repented the unkindness done me. But my distemper at last encreasing, he (now full of Fears) seated himself upon my Bed's side, and (like a tender Mistress weeping o're her wound­ed Lover) confess'd his Cruelty, and begg'd my Pardon, with a thousand Assurances, that (if kind Heav'n restor'd me to my health) Sirena shou'd be mine. He'd humble himself even be­yond [Page 107] his Nature, and beg for Friendship from the Man he hated; that former quarrels now shou'd be no more, and all his interest shou'd yield to my future happiness, than which he knew not a greater. The Brother's unkind Letter had rais'd my Anger, and mov'd my sleeping Griefs, but had not weakned or destroy­ed my Love, and the fair Sister still possest my heart; for when most I strove to raze her from my Soul, the all-conquering Maid with double force return'd; wonder not then if this restor'd my health, for hope from Love can never be divided, and Indoretta's Tears kept back my Soul, when on the Wing and eager for its Flight.

When I was recover'd, a new Misfortune befel me; for Mangroa suddenly lost the best of Wives, and I the kindest Mother Nature e're had made; my Sister had all that sorrow e're possest a tender loving Daughter, who griev'd the death of a kind Parent, and the Countess of Sirama was the only Person that rejoyc'd; for in her she lost an Enemy, and one who had favour'd my Passion for the lovely Daughter of cruel Xensa, her Rival in all her Virtues, and one who notwithstanding of her absence and seeming Cruelty, was dearer to me than health to those who suffer deadly Pains, a calm to Sea­men wearied with the Winds, to Travellers rest, or Men condemn'd Reprieves. Had Paris lov'd his Helena so well, or had she been but half so sweet, so good, as blest Sirena to my view appear'd, a thousand Years of Famine and of War, Ripes, Butcheries, continued Scenes of Blood, with the Destruction of his House and [Page 108] Country, had prov'd a price too low for so much Beauty. The gods themselves had fought for hap­py Troy, and the young Man successful prov'd in Arms, old Priam's Seat immoveable had been, his Houshold gods and Children had been safe, and Agamemnon had return'd with loss. Those hopes the Duke had given me, were as so many Arrows from the God of Love, and Grief (a mighty passion in it self) serv'd now to raise a greater in my Breast.

Ericis came frequently to see my Sister, and tho' Mangroa seem'd inclinable to favour that Passion I had for the Daughter of his Enemy, yet he had not fully laid aside his first Resoluti­on; and judging that a present Beauty, and long absence wou'd work my Cure, he made use of gentle Remedies, and told me it was not ho­nourable so soon to abandon a Lady's service, after I had confess'd her my Mistress; that it was convenient I shou'd often wait upon her, lest Xensa or his Friends might apprehend the cause of this sudden alteration in his humour, and think his friendship the effect of Necessity not Choice. Where the power of being Active or Passive is left to our selves, how far so ever the thing be opposite to our Inclinations, we per­form it with ease and some pleasure; and this proceeds from that aversion we have to restraint, and our Love of liberty; for we are all born Free, and have a right to all things, and not to continue in this State, is a privation of our own Strength, and argues our weakness in not being able to surmount, or remove that difficul­ty or impediment, which denies or bars us from Enlargement. Besides we naturally have some [Page 109] respect for those who contribute to the success of our Love, tho' they did it without design, or with an intention wholly to destroy it. Think it not strange then that I could now look upon Ericis, with an air much differing from that she had formerly seen. The false Fair seem'd pleas'd with this change, and concludes the answer of my Letter had wrought it; and fail'd not to acquaint the Duke how much I obey'd, who every Day by his looks confess'd his Satis­faction. These I took for so many natural Signs of his kindness, and failed not to flat­ter my self, so far as to believe he wou'd for­get nothing, that might advance that friend­ship he design'd with Xensa; and as 'tis impossi­ble to Love where there is no hope, it followeth that to hope much is to feed the Flame, and make it rage to more unruly Fires.

Things were thus, when a Happiness I ne're had hop'd befel me; for one Night as I came from a Ball at Court, (where my Friends had detain'd me too long) I saw at a small distance (by the help of his Flambeaux's) the rambling Fernanthus Duke of Meroa. I knew his hu­mour, and (not resolv'd to turn Scowrer that Night) endeavour'd to avoid him, and therefore softly plac'd my self, at the first door which offer'd; but as I began to rest upon it I found it fled, and gave me access to the House unlook'd for. I was at first surpris'd, but more when I heard a Woman, in a low Voice, cry, Sir, Sir, are you come? I presently recollected my self, and answer'd Yes, e're she had fully pronounc'd her last Words. She took me by the Hand, and (without any Lights) led into a Room, where [Page 110] another leaping from the Bed caught me in her Arms, and cry'd, Ah my dear Youth! Why have you staid so long? Know you not how much these unkind delays shorten the Scenes of Love, and Day appears e're you have trod the Stage? I made no reply, but seem'd impatient of the coming Heav'n, half naked on the downy Bed she lay, her Arms expanded ready to receive me, breath'd short and sigh'd, then ask'd me why I staid, and by a rapture known to burn­ing Youth, anticipated what shou'd be jointly shar'd, and give to both an equal part of Heav'n. I soon undress'd, and kiss'd the long­ing She, ran o're the Field of Love with eager transports, melted with sudden Pleasures and too much of Bliss, and languish'd e're my Joys were half begun. The kind one smil'd, and sigh'd at what was past, and us'd those ways which kindle or excite to a new Love the drowsie fainting Soul. She caught my trem­bling Body in her Arms, kiss'd me, and said, Can you be kind no more, has too much Love destroy'd our mutual Bliss, and has Furinus no more Joys in store? Thus wou'd young Martius with Sirena done, the sudden leap to happiness had drown'd his Soul in Extasie, and made de­sire weak. But those to whom long practice gives the art of taming by degrees unruly Flames, should know the way to better, longer Loves—Yet stay, my Dear, (added she in another tone) what effects will that counterfeited answer pro­duce, does he forget Sirena now? And does the Countess of Sirama triumph o're that successful Beauty? Her immodesty had mov'd my wonder, but these last words surpris'd beyond belief; and [Page 111] 'twas no longer in my choice to doubt whom it was I had embrac'd, and to prevent that disco­very which a longer Discourse had certainly pro­duc'd, I renew'd those Joys for which she long'd, and by my Love supply'd the want of Words. While thus we dallied, and height of Pleasure fill'd the Fair Ones Soul, I stole a Ring, and for it left my own. Then leaping from the Bed (with a Voice much differing from that of Martius) I bid the Maid farewel, and tho' she knew not whom she then had blest, I left her nevertheless satisfied, that she had bestow'd her Favours upon a Man, for whom she had not meant them. Her Woman, who waited upon the Stairs, knew nothing of the matter, and with soft steps taught me the way, whispering in my Ear that I had not staid my usual hour, yet hop'd I I was in health; as she open'd the Street Door, a Man muffled in his Cloak rush'd in, caught Pandora in his Arms, (for that was the Maid's name) and cry'd, Is thy Mistress well? Why was the Door no sooner open'd to an impatient Lover? The Wench, without any surprise ask'd him what he meant, and assur'd him he had mistaken the House, adding, her Mistress was a Person of Quality, knew him not, nor would she be disturb'd at an hour so unseasonable. Ha, (reply'd he with a louder Voice) is Furinus al­ready forgot, and is it for this, I have betray'd young Mangroa? At this I suddenly leapt for­wards, and drawing my Sword, Know Sir, (said I) Martius has a Friend shall punish this Trea­chery. He (without any reply) retir'd into the Streets, I follow'd, and after a few thursts had past between us, his perfidious Soul at last [Page 112] ow'd its passage to my Sword, and left his body motionless behind.

When I came home, the Duke was gone to Bed, and none were witnesses of my long stay, but those of my own Servants who waited for me. 'Tis impossible to express those Joys this Night brought me. I saw Artaxus still my Friend, was perswaded Sirena had not then for­got me, and doubted not but that the answer of my Letter was forg'd by Ericis, with the as­sistance of that young Man whom I had now punish'd for his Perfidy.

In the morning the Fair One came to see my Sister, and I was surpris'd to find in her Coun­tenance, not one sign of grief or inward Distur­bances. The Duke soon after enter'd the Room, and I was oblig'd to a greater Compli­ance than any I had yet shown; she was hearti­ly pleas'd with my looks, and if she had any real Torment for the loss of her Lover, she let me know by her Behaviour, she enjoy'd a plea­sure that o're-rul'd her Griefs, and hopes of possessing a new Lover of greater Quality, and (as she thought) Master of more Charms, was able to attone for the death of one, whom fre­quent Loves had rendred stale and homely to the view. But that which most she fear'd was, that he who had supply'd his place was not ig­norant of her Quality, and might disclose the secret, for the loss of her Ring could not be ea­sily digested. But this trouble also fled, and the present appearance of better Fortune, (like the Sun-shine of a new Day) dispell'd from her thoughts, the remembrance of that Storm and Horrour which had rag'd the preceeding Night. [Page 113] In the mean time, credit this sudden Change in my Fortune which followeth.

My Father (now a Widower) began to to entertain some thoughts, to which he had been long a stranger, and eas'd me of my feign'd Courtship, by the reality of his own; he forgets to bid me wait upon Ericis, attones for my in­differency by a passion truly violent, and pra­ctis'd all those little Arts, which are inseparable Companions of growing Love. I observ'd this Change, but conceal'd my knowledge from him as much as possible, and the kind Indoretta who was pleas'd with the fidelity of Artaxus, and his continu'd Friendship to me, upon which she knew the success of my Love depended, thankt Heav'n, and her kind Stars, for this new addi­tion to my Happiness. The Countess, in whom ambition was always prevalent, wanted only to be a Dutchess; and tho' she saw no hopes of seeing her Son a Duke, (if Heav'n should send her one) yet she was pleas'd with her Fortune, when she consider'd, she might cer­tainly possess the Father, and had only hop'd (and it may be upon small grounds) the possessi­on of the Son. Thus we liv'd all happy, hop­ing each Day might bring us some advancement in Fortune's Favour; I never prais'd the lovely Sirena, but when I found Mangroa pleas'd with the subject; nor did he ever mention the Coun­tess of Sirama. My Sister was wholly devoted to my Interest, and always found her happiness in mine.

One Evening the Duke sent for me to his Chamber, and after he had made me sit down by him, Martius, (said he with a kinder air [Page 114] than usual) I have long observ'd that indiffe­rency with which you treat the Countess, and have consider'd that Love which has always pos­sest you for Xensa's fair Daughter; and tho' I confess she deserves all that passion you have for her, I see it with sorrow, and could wish your judgment might present to your View those difficulties which are to be o'recome, e're this Match can be perfected, the hatred that Man bears to my House, and how far my Ho­nour is concern'd in the resentment of Count Torrusco's death. Here he paus'd some time, but seeing I did not reply any thing, he proceed­ed and told me, That, to ease me of one Pain, that I might the better endure another, he was resolv'd to Marry Ericis himself, for the next morning should finish the Work, if Coloa was not destitute of Priests; that he had made it a secret till now, because good things unlook'd for impart most of pleasure, and consequently this news would bring me more of happiness. This said, he expected my Answer and Thanks, instead of which I threw my self at his Feet, and conjur'd him to remember that promise he had once made me; that Xensa bad kill'd Tur­rusco Honourably, and that his hatred to our Family proceeded only from that which he saw Mangroa had to his. As for the Countess of Si­rama he should add infinitely to my Misfortunes, if he marry'd her, for she was a Woman virtu­ous only to those who had not carefully ex­amin'd her Conduct; and thereupon told him the whole story of that night's Ramble, as I have already related it. The Duke was infinitely surpris'd, and for some time remain'd silent, [Page 115] then on a sudden throwing his Arms about my Neck, he swore he deserv'd not a Son so dutiful; that he had hitherto us'd me unkindly; but that his future Actions should attone for those past, and if I wou'd promise to abandon the bewitch­ing Sirena, to whom Bonzeda was to be Mar­ry'd, I might begin my Journey for the Coun­try when I pleas'd I return'd him that answer my Duty and his Kindness requir'd; and withal assur'd him the Count's happiness should not be disturb'd, that I would endeavour to Love Man­derina as much as I had done Xensa's Daughter, and should make it my Study to preserve by merit that place in his good opinion, to which his goodness without that had advanc'd me. He was satisfied with what I said, and for that time left me without any diminution of my hopes. In the Morning he writ the following Lines to his Bride.

The detected Fair One was o'rewhelm'd with sorrow at the first reading of the Duke's Letter, and after she had for some time given way to Tears, [Page 116] (sometimes in Women the natural signs of grief or pain) Anger and Revenge (the darling passi­ons of that tempting Sex) took place, and she imagin'd with her self a thousand means and ways to bring distraction to our Family. But willing first to use the force of her Charms, she came to our House dress'd in smiles, and modest looks. My Father waited upon her, and show'd more of sorrow for his loss, than Pride or Re­sentment for the misfortune of this cunning Fair. She talk'd a while of things indifferent; and at last fell upon the Subject of that Letter he had sent to her. At which time the Duke gave the sign, and I (as he had commanded) enter'd. She soon perceiv'd her Ring, (for I had put it on for that end) and with tears in her Eyes with­drew, confirming sufficiently the truth of all I had said. In short, my dear Friend, I began my Journey that Evening for Zenitha, tho' not be­fore I had receiv'd your kind Letter, and had assur'd Indoretta of your Constancy. The Duke gave me some Letters to my Rival Bonzeda, whom I am resolv'd not to acquaint with my arrival, 'till I have seen the Mistress of my Vows, the Charming Sirena, a happiness I must ex­pect from your Friendship, not Fortune or my Merit.

Here Martius stopt, and Artaxus (who lov'd no less than he) took him again in his Arms, Swore he'd serve him with his Life and Fortune, and that very Night bless him with Sirena's Company. Thus having spent part of the day, they at last chose different Roads; Martius back [...] Zenitha, and Artaxus home.

In the mean time I knew nothing of my Bro­ther's happiness, and when he came home (tho' he strove to hide it, because the Duke was present) I cou'd read in his Eyes some signs of those hopes and motions of Joy which had wing'd his Soul. Xensa was no sooner gone, than he embrac'd me. Ah! My Dear Sister (cry'd he) I am still hap­py, Martius proves a just Friend, and Indoretta waits for the Fortunate Artaxus. These words pleasantly surpris'd me; I lov'd too much to be disinterested in the Story, and begg'd with im­patiency he would let me know where he had this account of his and my good Fortune. Then it was, Madam, he related the Story of my Lover's absence, the same as I have already Writ it; adding he had given him the Key of the Gar­den-Door, and we might meet with all the pri­vacy imaginable. Love, not he, perswaded, and I thought time mov'd backwards till the hour arriv'd.

It was when every Creature seem'd a-sleep, the heavy Waters murmur'd as they went, and mov'd as if they shortly meant to rest; the ad­joyning Shoar no raging Billows knew, and every Fish dreamt in his Ousie Bed. The Earth seem'd all one Cave, the Heav'ns one shade, and dying Stars did the new light invite. All happy Lo­vers lay in slumbers chain'd, and Cynthia to her Damon seems forgot. The waking Joys of migh­ty Love were fled, and Morpheus reign'd when that Young God gave way. Sometimes a Bird half waking took the Wing, and with slow mo­tion reach'd some neighb'ring bough, then faintly murmuring hush'd it self to rest, and sleeping bill'd as if its Mate were nigh. 'Twas then, I [Page 118] say, Madam, Artaxus and I stole gently forth, to meet the wish'd for welcome gen'rous passionate Martius. As we enter'd the Gar­den, the Lovely Youth rush'd in; Fancy (that erring guide where Judgment's gone) paints him with all his Charms, and perfect thoughts sup­pli'd the want of day. I saw him kneeling, beg­ging at my Feet, grasping my hands, and sigh­ing as he spoke, his Eyes (at least I thought so) darted Love, and all his trembling touches reach'd my Heart. Faultring he cry'd, Sirena! Lovely Fair! Now all the pains of absence are repay'd, and present Blessings banish rooted cares. Artaxus, thou best of Friends, to thee I owe this mighty happiness, and if the Charming Mistress of my Vows had any favourable thoughts for the constant Martius, of which her Brother's Love is not the Cause, even that Joy which those thoughts wou'd impart to me, I'd own the effect of his Friendship, or her Mercy, without respect to Merit on my part.

My Heart was seiz'd with tenderness and joy, I long had lov'd him, and had mourn'd his ab­sence, and all his words (like Arrows shot from Love) dart to my Soul, and kindle dying flames. Night made him bold, and Passion spurr'd him on, and in this rapture rising from the ground, he clasp'd me in his Arms, sigh'd deep, and kiss'd me with an eager action, and almost banish'd Virtue from my Breast. After we had seated our selves in an Arbour, we discours'd of Love, of the pains that Passion brings, and day arriv'd e're we had thought it nigh.

In the morning he waited upon the Count, and was by his Sister (the Fair Manderina) re­ceiv'd [Page 119] with that Modesty, which Young Wo­men generally profess, especially before those whom they see design'd their Husbands. Xensa was soon acquainted with the arrival (as he judg'd him) of his Young Enemy; and waited impatiently for Bonzeda's visit, who no sooner came, than he inform'd him of his fears, and to prevent future danger, resolv'd to see me speedi­ly married. The hated Lover was o'rejoy'd at the proposal, and the third day following was prefix'd for that, on which this Gordian Knot was to be ty'd. My Mother acquainted me with the unwelcome news, and I fail'd not to beg that assistance she had often promised; and with Tears in my Eyes let her know how much I hated Bonzeda, and what thoughts I had for the Young Mangroa. She sighing told me, That things were now come to the last extremity, that I had been married some weeks ago, if her Friendship had been wanting, or diligence asleep. That the Young Duke's Arrival gave the Count and my Father so many fears, that Arguments were become useless, and my Marriage alone was able to secure them. But that one Remedy, or at least a Reprieve, offer'd it self, which was to be pur­chas'd thus. I should immediately feign my self indispos'd, confine my self to my Chamber for some days, and if the Duke still continued reso­lute, at last to my Bed. But withal, that I should not attribute my Distemper to that Storm which threatned me, and if 'twas ask'd [...] him know, that nothing impeded his [...] happi­ness, my Sickness excepted, that my [...] gave consent, and my [...] time [...]ey.

I comply'd so readily with this relishing Coun­sel, that when the Duke enter'd my Chamber I immediately fainted. He call'd for help, and the Dutchess (who knew my Distemper) came run­ning (drown'd in feign'd Tears) to my Assist­ance; telling him, I had been under this indisposi­tion for some days, that she wonder'd at the cause, and fear'd some dangerous consequence. Xensa was surpris'd with what he heard, and the Count (who was with him) had only this Sa­tisfaction, that he saw me incapable of holding any Correspondence with his Rival. However they both departed without acquainting me with what they had design'd the preceeding day. Ar­taxus was perfectly vers'd in the Plot, and told me Martius would wait upon me at Night; that I must not deny him that happiness, that none could be conscious to the interview, and every thing conduc'd to promote the design. I lov'd, and a few Arguments serv'd to perswade; the Youth possess'd my Heart, and all my thoughts center'd in forming lovely Ideas of the bewitch­ing Conquerour. He had free access to Bonze­da's Garden, and by a small Ladder of Ropes (made for the purpose) he easily got into ours. His Servant (as soon as he had ascended the Wall) was order'd to Withdraw the Pliant Stairs, and retire to his Master's Room, least his conti­nued stay had occasion'd a discovery; for Bonze­da had many Windows opposite to that place. My Brother waited at the Window (to which a second Ladder was fastned) and receiv'd him. The Duke lay in the next Room, and you may believe we forgot not to tread softly. The hap­py Youth caught me in his Arms, gaz'd, and [Page 121] sigh'd, as if this had been our first meeting, since my departure from Coloa. He swore no time or accident shou'd weaken his Love, that he wou'd show the Constancy of a Martyr, who suffer'd for Eternal Joys; Nature shou'd start, and all things suffer change, the Frame of Beings inverted, the Earth turn'd into its primitive Chaos, e're he forgot my Charms. That if the Globe shook beneath him, or gap'd so wide, it show'd the infernal Powers, howling and grin­ning, ratling in their Chains, and all the Souls of damn'd departed men; or if the Skies shou'd sink by slow degrees, until the Crystal Arch press'd down his Head, he'd not fear or dream of coming death, his thoughts shou'd then pay homage to his Love, and in this vast and terri­ble Confusion, he'd clasp the Fair, the lovely, blest Sirena, lay her all trembling to his faithful Breast, and then possess'd of all Heav'n could bestow, he'd smile, and sinking kiss the precious treasure, laugh at the angry gods, and bless his glorious fall.

Thus we spent the few hours; he still swore he lov'd, and my Eyes inform'd him how readi­ly believ'd. But the Servant returning gave the usual sign, and we parted, tho' not before we had made a new Appointment.

The following day appear'd to both an Age, and Time seem'd drowsie by his tardy flight; at last the hour much wish'd for took its place, and brought the Welcome Lover to my Soul. My Brother (if by design or chance I know not) was absent, and we enjoy'd a Heaven without disturbance. For tho' he was much esteem'd by Martius and belov'd by me, yet we were both [Page 122] glad of his absence. We spoke a thousand ex­travagant things, and Love to us appear'd the darling Virtue of the World, the end for which we were made, and the very Cause of our Crea­tion. He sigh'd, and gaz'd upon me, spoke sometimes faintly, and in a Minute would grow silent, grasp my hand, kiss it, and almost breath out his Soul in raptures. I felt a sick'ning plea­sure at my Heart, a longing joy distracted my Soul, and I wanted something to compleat the Bliss, yet knew not what it was; my Blood flush'd to and fro, seem'd all in every part, and in no part to stay, but spoke my Nature toss'd 'twixt fear and gladness. While thus we sat blest with our present fortune, yet uneasie in the anxious wishes of a better, losing the present sweets in thoughts of more; a sudden noise sur­pris'd us in this Lethargy, and wak'd us from an extasie of Love. My fears on this occasion were inexpressible, and (knowing it too late to make use of our hempen Stairs) I caught my blushing Lover by the hand, conjur'd him to save my Re­putation and my quiet, which were now e­vidently in danger, made so only by my Love to him He who knew how to Obey, smil'd, and plac'd himself behind my Bed, where he re­main'd unseen. The Duke soon knock'd at the Door, and I as expeditiously opened it. Ha! Daughter (cry'd he) I'm glad 'tis no worse, I heard some small noise in your Chamber, and was concern'd for your health. This I took for my Cue, and with a faint voice answered; that I had been ill most of that day, but that I was now grown better, Ah! reply'd the Duke (who stood shaking in his Night-Gown) you've been [Page 123] too long from your Bed, 'tis there you must ex­pect rest, for sleep to the Sick is a reprieve from pain. This allarm'd my Soul, and I made use of all the Arguments I could invent, to show the inconveniency of that Method he propos'd to perfect my recovery; but 'twas in vain; he call'd for the Dutchess, and she (not knowing the Circumstance of affairs) confirm'd him in his Resolution. He withdrew into the next Room, and she staid by me, as if I had stood in need of her Assistance e're I could be undrest. Thus I was oblig'd to obey; and the Duke re­turning took my Mother by the hand, and so left me, having first wish'd me good health, commended Bonzeda, and order'd one of the Maids to remove the Candles. My Charming Martius thus reliev'd, threw himself upon his knees, clasp'd my hand, and sigh'd, as if his winged, slippery Soul, had sought an opportu­nity to escape its Prison; his continued silence, and eager grasps spoke him languishing for a Joy unknown, and I (divided between Love, Fear, and Honour) found my self unable to speak my thoughts. Sudden motions of alternate Passions stopt my faultering Tongue, and my bosom eccho­ed moving sighs to his. While thus our Souls and Nature seem'd at War, he gently mov'd and caught me in his Arms, laid his Head to my panting Breast, trembl'd, breath'd quick, and kiss'd me with the eagerness of departing Lovers. Then giving way to a flash of Love inflam'd, he [...]e [...]ch'd too soon that pleasure which he sought, and in [...]he [...]e [...]rch of the unbounded Joy, he lost the present transports of the mind.

'Twas then, Madam, he spoke, and begg'd a thousand Pardons for the indiscretion he had committed, swore he lov'd me yet even to mad­ness, and would not for a thousand Empires quit the Room. I begg'd (but 'twas faintly) he'd leave me; I told him his Servant no doubt wait­ed for his return, because the time appointed was elaps'd, and if he walkt too long in the Garden, it might discover what our mutual in­terest oblig'd us to conceal. He made no re­ply, but stopt the sound of Arguments with kisses, Love reasum'd his Throne, and set his Soul on Fire. He claspt me again in his Arms, finish'd our imperfect Joys, and I could say no more than—Ah my Honour—Will you Love—Oh kind Heavens! The Night was spent with all the pleasure Love could give, he swore eternal Constancy, I believ'd all, lov'd all▪ and dreamt my self in Paradise. Sleep was to both a stranger, and coming Day prov'd hateful to the sight, we shrinkt and smil'd and wish'd a Night like that, in which great Jove his dear Alemena blest, inverting order to pro­mote his Joys. At last we parted, but with those pleasant desires which Men enjoy, when dreaming of a Heaven they ne're possest, or know but faintly in a tempting trance, they grieve their judgment was no longer husht, and wish and long to see the Scene again.

In the morning the Duke came to see me, the Count was with him, and both of them al­ledg'd I had not slept last Night; that my eyes verifi'd this truth, and I was unjust to my self in not having a greater regard for my Health. The fresh remembrance of what had past made Bon­zeda's [Page 125] visit more unwelcome than ever, and my aversion for him almost cast me into a Feaver. Xensa who observ'd my disorder, but not the Cause, presently left me, after he had told me, that he hop'd a few Days would bring me per­fect ease, and give him that happiness he had so often wish'd, of seeing me married to his Friend, a Man who well deserv'd my esteem, and lov'd me passionately.

A few minutes thereafter Artaxus enter'd, and told me he had been at Bonzeda's, had seen my favourite Lover, and was resolv'd to go to Coloa; that he could live no longer without his Indoretta, and he'd rather chuse to forfeit his Father's kindness and fortune, than endure the loss of her he lov'd; adding withal, that Martius had perswaded him to't. These last words gave me a vast deal of Pleasure; 'twas an argument of his Love, and spoke the last nights Joy's had rather fann'd than extinguish'd his Flame. This made me (besides the help of my natural incli­nations that pleaded powerfully for him) easily resolve to see him again at the usual hour. In the mean time my Brother ply'd the Duke for his consent: He weigh'd not at first the Cause of his Journey, and Artaxus (promising to return in a few Days) easily obtain'd the favour desir'd. But as he was ready to take Horse he receiv'd new Orders, for Xensa, upon second Thoughts, began to suspect the business, and therefore charg'd him not to think of going to Court, 'till my Marriage with the Count should be accomplish'd. Artaxus storm'd and rav'd at this sudden change of his humour, and remem­bring Love more than Interest, took Post imme­diately [Page 126] for Coloa. The Duke was then con­firm'd in his suspicions; and swore this manifest token of his disobedience should never be for­got; that he'd remember him no more as his Son, and damn the hour that brought him first to light. The Dutchess forgot nothing that might excuse his fault; she insisted on the force of Almighty Love, on the number of his Years, and how insupportable 'twas for Youth to be mew'd up in a Castle, or confin'd to the narrow bounds of a Garden: But her Arguments were of no strength, and Bonzeda's Agents in the Fa­mily added matter to the Fire of the Duke's wrath.

At night my Lover beat his usual Road, and enter'd my Chamber with that joy in his Face, which spoke his Soul at ease. I receiv'd him with that sondness which my Love inspir'd, and we consum'd the hours in amorous Sighs, lan­guishing looks, firing Touches, melting Glan­ces, and eager Wishes. He long'd to renew those joys which rowsing moving Nature taught to both; and I, who doated too much, (yet willing to preserve his Love in health) deny'd him the opportunity of a surfeit, made the Heaven almost inaccessible, yet allow'd him those priviledges which serv'd to kindle his Soul, and make it burn for more. Thus, Madam, we liv'd happy, by starving our selves in midst of Plenty, and heightning the appetite by scanty Joys, to a mad hunger for a waste of Pleasure. My Marriage was still deferr'd, and Artaxus sent me a perfect Journal of his proceedings by every Post. But wearied with my continued Confinement, I sometimes (and at the Duke's [Page 127] desire too) walk'd abroad: The Sea-shoar was the place I commonly chose, which at last pro­duc'd this adventure.

All silent were, no Beast was seen to roam, his panting Flocks each Shepherd homewards drove, the Labourer left his Plow and wisely sought for shelter from that heat which scorch'd the Earth. I sate beneath a mossy Rock, on each side Clifts and frightful Precipices, dark Recesses and solitary Caves, not made by art but ow'd their form to Nature. The bubling Streams with noise came tumbling down, dashing from Point to Point their scatter'd Parts, then meet­ing roar'd and rush'd into the Main; who all receiv'd next minute tost 'em back, and kept them in perpetual motion, till the Sun's attra­ctive rays exhal'd the foam from much concussi­on wrought, and suck'd the stranger body from the rest. This melancholly retreat gave me inexpressible Satisfaction, I view'd the irksome Shades with greediness, and languish'd with the pleasure. My Maid was silent, and nothing offer'd it self to disturb my contemplative Soul. While thus I sate and gaz'd upon the Waves, who now appear'd like Ice or Crystal Fields, (not one breath of wind dividing the united Element) the Skies (quick as thought) grew black, the sluces of the burden'd Clouds flew open, and you'd thought the Heavens had mel­ted into Rain. The Birds who sought their Prey upon the Waves, found a new fresh Sea above them, and sunk beneath the smarting weight into the briny old. Thunder soon fol­low'd the amazing change, and bursting Clouds shook the tottering Globe. Fire flash'd through [Page 128] the thickned Air, and show'd the gaping Hea­vens, the Skies in labour, and the jarring Ele­ments at a dreadful War. The scaley Monsters show'd their aweful Heads, and rouz'd from the bottom of the boundless deep, howl'd, and threw up floods of gorging Waves to quench the distant heat, then grinning plung'd to hide themselves from Heaven. The distant plains seem'd all a heap of Rubbish, forsaken by eve­ry Beast, and cover'd with the Wreck, which rowling floods from neighbouring Mountains brought. To encrease the frightful Scene, the winds grew high, tore up the stubborn Oaks and yielding Pines, ransack'd the plains, and swept off the budding Corns, levelling the superb Palace with the humble Cottage. The won­dering trembling Swains dejected stood, and saw their Huts transported from their Seats, and plac'd on Rocks, or on some rising Grounds, whose height secur'd them from aspiring Streams. In a word, Nature seem'd mad, the Elements in a freak, and the Earth grumbl'd as if a fatal Collick had rent her peaceful Bowels. You may believe, Madam, my Soul was surpris'd with the amazing sight, and I dreamt of nothing more than present ruin. My Maid fell upon her Knees, begg'd the protection of the angry gods, and swore eternal constancy to Heaven, if once reliev'd from these distracting Fears. While thus she was imploy'd, I could perceive a large Vessel tost by raging Billows, labouring to reach the open Seas, yet forc'd on shoar by Winds. Pity on a sudden fill'd my Breast, and I had so many anxious Thoughts, for the safety of those in a more imminent danger than my self, that [Page 129] my past fears vanish'd, and all my cares and wishes were for them. Just now you'd thought the floating Castle stood on a high Mountain, making War with Heaven, and proudly threat­ning to assail the Clouds. Then in a moment all its height was lost, and sinking Seas would plunge it deep as Hell. At last the crowding Waves rush'd doubly on, and forc'd the mov­ing Palace against a Rock. The Seamen shriek'd aloud, struggl'd for parting Life, and the next moment vanish'd. The sad Object mov'd my Tears, and I could have fainted un­der the weight of other People's Misfortunes, if a certain joy (at that time not known for such, but arising from a sense of my own safety) had not supported me. The greatest part of Man­kind loves to see his fellow Creature in evident danger; and tho' he views him with trouble, yet if he examin'd himself narrowly, he'd find the remembrance of his own Condition, (when compar'd to that of the other) gives a certain pleasure that counterballances the Pain; else why should we at any time flock to see Execu­tions, Combats, Shipwracks, raging Fires, and such horrour-giving Objects; for Nature is a­verse to its Enemy, and grief no doubt is such—But to return, the Clouds who had now shak'd their droping Wings withdrew. The dis­mal Curtain furl'd up, and Heaven show'd a smiling Countenance, as if a Sacrifice of so many Lives had asswag'd its hungry fury. Eolus sounded a retreat to the raving Winds, who grumbling retir'd to their hated Prison, and Neptune (reliev'd from his old Disturber) slept as if the past toils had forc'd him to a Peace. The [Page 130] joyful Birds came fluttering from their Nests, sprung through the Air, and trod the Boughs again, then Sung, and mounting spread their matted Wings. In fine, every thing seem'd at liberty, but Sirena, my grief for what I had seen sunk my Soul into a demi-trance, and left me not the power to move. I consider'd the quality of that inconstant Element, the Cause of Winds and Rains, how far Chance, the gods and Nature, shar'd in what befel us; and if Heaven (which we paint all Goodness and Mer­cy) could have a hand in the destruction of so many Creatures, which it self had made, or took a certain pleasure in the punishment of Of­fenders, whose Actions were so inconsiderable and seemingly below the notice of the Almigh­ty Mind. Thus my Soul travers'd a Labyrinth of mysterious Problems, my Reason exerted its Power, and almost shook off the Yoak of Impo­sition, searching into the truth of things, which believ'd bring no ill consequences, if not a real happiness, and if rejected or discredited, give Nature her sway, and set the World loose, break the hinges of humane Society, and set up an Insurance Office for Villanies and Blood­shed.

At last, Night approach'd, and I was oblig'd to abandon my solitary Tent. But, oh kind Heavens! how was I surpris'd, when on the Sand two Shipwrackt Bodies lay, in fast embra­ces lockt, as if the dead Clay had retain'd a per­fect remembrance of that Union which was be­tween their Souls. Coming nearer, their Cloaths inform'd me they were of Quality, and I stood sometime motionless, and gaz'd upon the mov­ing [Page 131] Object▪ where the ruines of so many Beau­ties so sweet appear'd, you'd thought death had been a gentle sleep, and cruel Waves been soft as Summer dews. In this juncture the Duke (who had dreaded the effects of the past Storm) ap­pear'd; and tho' naturally hardy and of a rough disposition; his Soul melted at the sight, and his Eyes confess'd the trouble of his Mind. He pre­sently order'd his Servants to convey the dead to his House, and having seated our selves in the Coach, drove straight home.

Some hours after, one of my Maids came running into my Closet, and with gladness told me, that the Lady whom I found on the shoar was yet alive, that her Soul was loath to aban­don so fair a body, and they had some hopes of her recovery. But the Man was lost beyond redemption, for not one sign or Symptom of coming Life appear'd. This news banish'd that grief which had lately possest me for the unfor­tunate Fair; and I flew between hopes and fears to give that assistance in my power. When I enter'd, the sick one lifted up her Eyes, look'd fix'dly upon every Object, mov'd her Lips as if she had strove to speak, then sigh'd and faint­ing shut them both again. The Dutchess us'd her utmost Art, and drove back the posting Soul when almost gone. But having spent the greatest part of the Night in this Charitable Imployment, we withdrew; leaving the care of our Charming guest to my Mother's Maids and mine.

The joyful Birds had scarce usher'd in the coming day when I arose. I had dreamt of this unfortunate fair One all Night, and my wishes for her safety became the imployment of my [Page 132] anxious Soul. Nor did I Petition Heaven in vain, for when I enter'd the Room, she mo'vd her Head from the Bed, and in an almost-dying ac­cent, begg'd Pardon for that trouble she had gi­ven me, thank'd me for my assistance, then ask'd me the place and time in which I found her, if I had seen her Husband on the Shoar, for now all her fears were for him, and if he was lost, no Art, no Argument, or Cause could save her Life, her Soul was incorporate and mix'd with his, and both should wander in the other World, if not united there like Bodies here.

That tenderness her loss inspir'd, drew Tears from my Eyes, and I faintly answer'd,—I had seen none such, that she alone had reach'd that part of the Shoar where I had been, but that or­ders should be given to enquire of all the strag­gling Shepherds, and watchful Fishermen for him she wanted, that Heaven no doubt had pre­serv'd him, and she would soon be happy. The distress'd Fair One sigh'd, conjur'd me to use my utmost diligence in the search, and to remember her life depended on the success. In the mean time the Duke order'd the dead Body to be in­terr'd, according to the custom of our Country, where nothing was wanting, which Quality have bestow'd upon them, as the last mark of Honour. For by that account which the Fair One gave of him, we perfectly knew him for her Husband. The Dutchess (whose grief upon this occasion was in nothing inferiour to mine) advis'd me to acquaint the ignorant Widow with her state, to prevent a double pain, which the certain knowledge of her Circumstances would doubt­less give. I obey'd, and in the Evening enter'd [Page 133] her Chamber with a Golden Cross (beset with [...]mall Diamonds) in my hand. The mourning Fair no sooner espy'd me, than starting, (she cry'd) is he alive? Has he sent me this pledge which has cost me so many Tears? Am I happy? Or must I dye? Tears rush'd into my Eyes, and sudden grief deny'd me the use of Words. I stood some minutes silent, and at last confess'd him dead. At this unwelcome sound the unhappy Fair (with a Countenance pale as death) leant her declin­ing Head upon the Pillow, lifted up her hands, and cry'd, O! Unhappy Delia! thou hast lost—and then fainted. I apply'd those Remedies commonly us'd on such occasions, and by the force of Spirits deny'd a flight to hers. Oh Gods! when she lifted up her Eyes again, how my Soul sorrowed for her. So dying Ro­ses covered o're with dew, look gay, and fresh, and tempting to the sight; yet move the Heart, because their sweets are flying. Ah! Ma­dam, (cry'd she) Pardon this undecent, but just grief, let not my Tears disturb your Peace, for a few hours will give me rest for ever. My Soul murmurs at its tedious imprisonment, rou­zes and shakes it self beneath this load of Clay, longs to be gone, and flutters in its Cage; 'tis now a traveller wrapt in contemplation, surveys the happy state of separate Beings, Chalks out the way to Heaven through open Air, and longs and seeks Valentio as it mounts.—Oh my Hus­band!—Oh unfortunate surviving Delia!—This said, she sigh'd, as if her heaving Breasts had prest her rising Soul, and I (now a sharer in her sufferings) wept, and in my silence ex­prest the pains that rackt my easie Heart. She [Page 134] who amidst her own troubles forgot not mine, con­jur'd me to leave her, and to forget I ever saw her; begg'd my Pardon again for those Tears her misfortune had brought me, and swore that no temptation should fool her into a love of Life. I set before her (with more affection than Art) the inconveniency of immoderate grief, taught her to hope a better fortune, and rely on Heaven. But she (dumb with excess of sorrow) made no reply, prest my hand between hers, sigh'd, and cry'd Valentio! Unwilling to be gone, I seated my self upon her Beds side, and with Tears besought her to remember the present state of her health, the impossibility of retrieving what was past, and that her Stars, though cruel in other things, had been kind in bringing her to a House, where she might freely command as at home. She who was no stranger to good breeding, and in the depth of affliction show'd a ready mind, when a­ble to speak, gave me an obliging return; add­ing that my cares augmented the weight of hers, and serv'd to hasten the o'reburden'd Soul to an end of all its Labours. But that to repay part of those kindnesses I had shown, she'd acquaint me with her life on whom they were bestow'd, that the recital of her past adventures, or emergen­cies of Love, was now the only pleasure of which she was capable: For the remembrance of Joys long fled, brought back the happier State of Life, and match'd it with the present; then show'd how far we fell, how low we sunk, and Charm'd the melancholy Hypocondriack Soul with a full taste of misery; the sweets of the one encrea­sing the sense of the other's bitterness. I endea­vour'd to divert her resolution, and defer that [Page 135] account she offer'd till her Health could consent to the labour; but 'twas in vain, for the har­rass'd Fair, after a few deep sighs and dying looks, began as followeth.

THE Kingdom of Marintha (to which I owe my Birth) was long distracted with the fury of a Civil War, the two pretenders to the Crown (Othar and Decius) divided the Na­tion, and he who signalized himself for neither of the Parties, was liable to the outrages of both, and judg'd a common Enemy, or at least one that had no regard to the welfare of his Coun­try, but to his own interest; and waited with a semblance of quiet, till Fate should decide the difference, and Crown the Conquerour, to whom he might safely pay homage, and secure his For­tune. In the mean time my Father, who was naturally Loyal, sided with Decius, whose Party then was weakest, while his Younger Brother (to whom Mony was a God) fled to Othar's Camp, and there was receiv'd as a Man who brings sup­plies of Gold to a Prince in wants. The two Young Kings (for both were Crown'd, and maintain'd an equal Title to the Throne) impa­tient of delays, and fond to reach a Diadem in view, at last encamp'd in a large Plain, where each of them waited for the nearer advances of the other. In a few days the eager Armies met, Victory hover'd o're their Heads, view'd the terrible Combat with a secret Joy, then clapt her bloody Wings, and perch'd at last on cruel Othar's Standard. Here poor Decius fell in search of Power, and my Father (whose Quality [Page 136] and Post in the Army advanc'd him to his Prin­ces Person) lost his Life in his defence.

Thus Othar Conquer'd, Fame flew before his Arms, and brought the sad news to that part of the Country, which had own'd the deceas'd for their King; and my Mother, who soon became acquainted with her loss, fled into the other World to secure her self from an Addition to her misfortunes in this. My Uncle, (the unkind un­just Arates) now Master of the new Monarch's favour, forgot that respect he ow'd to the me­mory of his Elder Brother; and having purchas'd with a bribe the gift of his Estate (which the King had now taken into his own hands as a for­feiture upon the score of Rebellion) he possest himself of the House, discharg'd the old Servants, and kept not one in his Family but my self, that e're had seen or known the kinder Master. I was yet too Young to be sensible of my own misery, and smil'd and play'd about this Author of all my following ills. But reaching too soon the Four­teenth Year of my Age, and my Face promising a larger stock of coming Beauties and good Na­ture, the Neighbouring Youth began to take notice of me, to speak kindly to me, pay me much respect, covet to be nigh me, and sighing, often inform'd me of my Circumstances, and that my Eyes would purchase more than cruel fortune had robb'd me of Arates observ'd my budding power, and wisely foresaw that if I should marry to a Man of a good Estate, I might (assisted by the help of Wealth) lay a claim to what he possess'd of mine, and to prevent that Misfortune which his guilt taught him to fear; [Page 137] he confin'd me to my Chamber, appointed me a stern Governess, and propos'd to my Lovers the advancement of two hundred thousand Malors, a Sum that exceeded in that Country the value of any Estate possest by a Subject. Thus he in­verted the common Custom; and instead of giv­ing a Portion, he set his Niece to Sale, yet half assur'd that none would buy her at a price so large.

My Lovers in shoals withdrew; at Night no musick reach'd my longing Ear, no sighs but those the old Matron vented for her decay'd Beau­ty, and chill'd Blood. In the Morning the de­crepid old Hag awak'd me, and with eyes di­stilling scalding Rheum, taught me how to im­ploy mine, on Books of dull Morality, and duller Rules for Life and Conversation, then mumbl'd Praises to the Almighty Power on my behalf, that sent me such a Friend as old Arates (for now he had past his great Clymacterick Year, yet still a Batchelour). Thus the ignorant (with the height of Devotion) bless Heaven for a Mischief, and when infernal Powers send a Plague, they thank that greater Power, whose Anger for committed Crimes, only permitted the ill to be to punish stiff offenders. Thus we spent the tedious day, and my long imprisonment had almost taught my Soul to forget the thoughts of Liberty; when the dear, the loving, but the lost Valentio, (who still had shown a Love beyond what mine, or the noblest Beauty could claim as due) at last of­fer'd the payment of the Sum propos'd The old Miser was startled with the News, and told him since his all was spent in the pursuit of a Woman, he must expect to live a marry'd beg­gar. [Page 138] The young Lover laught at coming Po­verty, and swore Hell it self should not fright him, or shake his Soul resolv'd, he lov'd to mad­ness, and he'd rather beg with Delia, trace the open Fields for Bread, and seek shelter in a Clift beneath some hanging Rock, (where bleak Winds grumbl'd round his careful Head, and Waters murmur'd in the hollow Chasms) than live in Courts without her, where Wealth, Pomp, Pride, Luxury, and Ease, with the gau­dy shows of Honour, tempted the Mercenary Soul to abandon that settl'd peace of Mind, which the Company of her we love, and a mo­derate fortune never fails to bestow. My Uncle now saw 'twas too late to raise Objections, and unwillingly consented to the Match on these Conditions, that I should show no signs of aver­sion for his Person, (for he had the goodness to pretend to a Love of my welfare) and that up­on the first Day of the second Year after his Marriage, he should add fifty thousand to the number of Malcors already given.

Thus Aratus secur'd himself, for by the con­tinued Poverty of my Husband, he weakened the power of Revenge. For, Madam, the form of Government in Marintha differs from that of Fabria, and there Men often do themselves Ju­stice without having recourse to Law, while the Prince (whose Authority is limited by the Peo­ple, or a chosen number invested with the pow­er of the whole) winks at these Outrages, and sees the strong o'rethrow the injur'd weak, without offering to disturb the course of either.

In the mean time I was kept wholly ignorant of these Transactions, and was strangely sur­pris'd [Page 139] when (after a consinement of two long Years, where I was seen by none, but my old Governess) the Gay, the Joyful, blest Valentio enter'd. I thought he too had forgot me, and those sparkles of Love he had kindl'd in my Breast e're my Imprisonment, were now almost extinguish'd, or at least burnt so faintly, I scarce perceiv'd the flame. The amorous Youth fell upon his Knees, darted his Eyes on mine, sigh'd, and (with a voice that would have charm'd a departing Soul back to Life) said, does the Di­vine Delia remember her slave Valentio? Can she believe I love her? That my long absence was an effect of necessity, not the will of my Heart? And that now she has liberty, if she can but Love. My surprise at the unexpected acci­dent made me uneasie, I felt a new Pleasure, and had a perfect remembrance of my past trou­bles, knew not what to answer, and wish'd he'd consult my Eyes, for the resolves of my yet wavering Soul. In this confusion of the mind he graspt my Hand, forc'd it to his Mouth, and kist it with the Feaver of a violent Lover, con­jur'd me to remember how I had been us'd, to consult my reason before I spoke, and to make use of that opportunity which kind Heaven lent me, lest my Uncle's humour alter'd to the worse, made him for ever Miserable, and gave me no hopes of better Fortune than I now enjoy'd. As he spoke, Aratus enter'd, and with a sowre Countenance told me he had always shown him­self a kind Parent, and he came now to give me (in his consent to my Marriage with Va­lentio) a sensible mark of that affection he ever had for me. This pleasant turn of sporting [Page 140] Fate elevated my Heart, joy sparkl'd in my Face, and tho' my reason could not find the Cause of this quick change, yet I was eas'd, because I had no ground to doubt the validity of that Proof, which fell within the Cognizance of my senses. Then looking on him I lov'd, I blush­ing answer'd, his Choice was to me a Guide, and I should not be wanting in my endeavours to esteem the Man he design'd my Husband. The surly old Man seem'd pleas'd with what I said, and calling my Gouvernantée aside, they both withdrew.

When he was gone, the wonderful Valentio fail'd not to thank me for my compliance, and spoke all that a Man who lov'd to excess could utter to the Mistress of his Soul, and I forgot not to weigh his Merit. You may wonder, dear Madam, at the easie conquest, and that not having mention'd this God-like Youth du­ring my Confinement, I should now so suddenly resign my Heart, and doat upon his Charms. But to remove that, consider my Years at part­ing; that from my infancy, I had more tender­ness and esteem for him, than for the rest of Mankind, and that he being then very young, his person and the beauties of his Soul, were better'd in the space of two Years; of this last, I modestly inform'd him, and he (who never spoke otherwise than he believ'd) swore mine surpris'd him, that I was ever the wonder of my Sex, and that Nature had spent the time of my long imprisonment, in perfecting that no­ble Work she had begun with so much Art.

In a few days we were marry'd, and my Un­cle (who could dissemble handsomely) seem'd [Page 141] well satisfied with all that past, while I (who was wholly ignorant of what my Valentio had done for me) promis'd to my self an age of Joys, and eternity of Peace and Happiness to come. My young Husband's Love encreas'd with the number of his Days, and time that wastes all things, serv'd to augment the force of his flame; for me he seem'd to live, and if at any time my nature was disorder'd, it wrought that effect up­on his Soul, which Minds united for each other know. His humour spoke his heart susceptible of Love, and capable of any tender impressions, subject to anger, to revenge a stranger, and form'd by bounteous Nature for a Lover. In the day time he was ever nigh me, sigh'd and swore he ne're could Love too well, that I de­serv'd the esteem of all Mankind, and had Eyes of force to melt a savage Heart, teach those in­clin'd to War, practis'd in deeds of horrour, and conversant in blood, to long and languish after softer Pleasures. In the Night he seem'd uneasie for nothing but the privation of Light, and when the Sun appear'd he'd gaze upon my Charms, and bless the day that brought us first together. Then surrounding my panting Body with his trembling Arms, he'd smile upon me, and swear by all the Powers above, and by my self, that no time or accident should e're deface my lovely form which the young god had rooted in his Heart; if withering Age came on, and Nature fail'd, or laid waste the field of Beauty, he'd call to mind the present happy minute, fetch it back from the boundless heap of Years long fled, and place it before his Eyes, renew his weaken'd Love, and doat upon his [Page 142] charming Delia, with all the longings of a hot young Lover, who can ne're be blest enough; my Eyes should kindle dying flames, we should embrace like Youth, and burn with equal Fires.

Thus have we lain and blest our mutual For­tunes, heard the cold North Winds battering against the Windows, and shivering Oxen low­ing in the Plains, the Birds chirping on the Battlements; and bleeting Lambs proclaiming double wants, the Trees crackling against each other, and tender Blossoms wafted throw the Air. Then have we shrinkt, lockt our selves together, breath'd quick and low, and laught at distant Storms, forgot the chilling Airs that rag'd abroad, and play'd and wanton'd on the yield­ing Downs.—But ah! this charming Scene how soon it fled! How quick time flew to finish so much Bliss! He show'd his hoary Head, and mov'd like Age, to make us think he would have longer staid, but while we lookt about and dreamt no loss, he mounted streight and left us in distress. For six Months had scarce elaps'd, when my Husband began to droop, sigh when he lookt upon me, frequent the solitary Walks, and languish under a Disease unknown. This gave me a thousand Fears, I lov'd as when first the Priest saluted me a Wife, and wish'd me happy in a marry'd State, and that melancholy which possest my dear Valentio became Epide­mick, the Servants lookt like Ghosts of Men, and I seem'd the reverse of Woman, or some­thing on this side or beyond Humanity, my curl'd Locks hang'd loosely in the Air, no smiles adorn'd my brow, my Beauties fled, and Love [Page 143] seem'd just a dying. A thousand times I askt the Cause, and with Tears in my Eyes con­jur'd him to lay open his Heart, to hide none of his thoughts from Delia, whose very Soul he knew devoted his; that if he lov'd me not, why would he not tell me so, and make me happy when he meant me ill, for the killing sound would reach my fore-boding Heart, and like sudden Thunder fright and strike me dead. He still swore he lov'd me, that his melancholy pro­ceeded from some indisposition of his Body, and begg'd I'd inquire no further into the Cause; with Tears in my Eyes I left him, and all my looks spoke my Soul uneasie.

In the mean time, my poor Valentio became a shadow, his Heart was in perpetual agitation, and heav'd his anxious Breast, as if the mighty secret had struggl'd for a Vent. I observ'd this with incredible Pain, and us'd all the arts which Love inspir'd to extract the hidden Mystery. At last (when even Nature you'd thought nodded, as if the Globe would have slipt through her Fingers, and crush'd our sleeping Antipodes) as in Bed we lay, I urg'd my griefs again, bid him remember how I still had lov'd, the joys of that Night, when smiling Hymen gave his wish'd consent, how I lay fainting in his Arms sick with pleasure, yet willing to advance his, and wellcoming the new Joy whose fierceness almost drown'd me, how eagerly he graspt me, how he prest my Lips, and set my Soul on fire, when past flames had half consum'd its strength. He (who now consider'd, how constantly I shar'd in all his wishes) melted into Love, laid aside the Heart of stubborn Man, took me in his Arms, [Page 144] sigh'd, and cry'd, Ah Delia I am ruin'd!—Thou undone!—And curst Valentio is the cause of all!

'Tis needless, Madam, to repeat what fol­low'd, besides my strength at present tells me, I must be concise. He inform'd me of what had past between him and Arates before the Marriage, that his Creditors were become un­easie, that his Friends had abandon'd him, be­cause he had acted in that affair without consent or advice, and nothing could secure him but a speedy flight. I believ'd my self miserable, fall'n low from the height of happiness, and spent the tedious Night in Tears, while he (whose cares were equal to my own) conjur'd me by that Love I bore him, to undergo patiently that load of Poverty, to which his indiscretion had brought me, to forget the scenes of past Loves, and to rely upon Arates (who could not chuse but relent) for a return of Fortune; Love was the cause, and the Crime was easily par­don'd; the weight of his griefs lessned the sense of my own, and the throbbings of his opprest Heart, stunn'd my Soul almost into a Lethargy. I embrac'd him a thousand times, swore the possession of his Heart repay'd the loss of Wealth, and I'd show the Courage of an Amazon, under my new Misfortune; begg'd he'd tender his own safety, and remember that when Valentio dy'd, his Delia too was lost.

At last the unwelcome Day appear'd, and the afflicted youth seem'd plung'd in an abyss of Despair. O gods! How often he did clasp me in his Arms, gaze upon me, and sigh as if he would have sunk into Eternity, his rack'd. Soul [Page 145] shook his tender frame, and in the labour forc'd Tears from his eyes, which the manly Youth strove to hide, and tost in a Sea of o'rewhelm­ing cares, remov'd the signs of weakness from my sight. Then starting from my embraces he'd cry, must I leave my Delia? Must I be damn'd to the boundless pains of an eternal Ba­nishment—Oh can I abandon Heaven in view? And shut my self for ever from the joys of Paradise?—Oh my Guardian Angel, take me once more into thy Bosom, give a new life to my fainting Heart, and teach me to forget my past happiness, or at least to be insensible of my coming torment; hush my warring Soul to rest, and let me dream no more of what I'm doom'd to suffer.—But ah, my Delia! My all! Thou better part of divided Valentio, I must leave thee, the curse of Poverty drives me from thy Arms, and the jealous gods have en­vy'd my past happiness. I must wander from my self, for if I retain my strength of judgment, I carry Hell about me—But sure my kind Me­mory won't in this exigency forsake me, she'll stand the first shock of Fortune's Malice, and prompt me on to madness, awake me from a Lethargy of sorrow, and by presenting thee to my view, give a new edge to my Afflictions; divide Valentio from the Husband, and oppress me with a double load, send me raving into the other World, cursing my Stars, my Fortune, nay—the gods, but most of all my self—yet blessing thee.

In this afflicting juncture my Courage fail'd me. I saw misery before me, and thought my self already contemn'd and trampl'd upon, by [Page 146] every Fool, whose Fortune (not Merit) had bestow'd upon him a larger stock of Wealth than mine; for Virtue when o'reclouded with Poverty gains no esteem, and he that's poor may speak like an Oracle, yet unregarded, while the rich (whose wit will hardly allow him the title of a Man) speaks weighty Sentences, is aplauded by cringing fawning Knaves, and bubl'd into a Love of his own ignorance. Poor Valentio, read my thoughts in my Eyes, and (after a deep sigh that exprest sorrow to the life) he fell into a new Delirium, exclaim'd a­gainst just Heaven, and wish'd for Thunder from the gods incens'd, to drive his tortur'd Soul unto the shades; that the Centre would open and swallow down his Body, or falling Mountains hide his guilty Head. Then reflect­ing on what he had said, he begg'd Heaven's pardon for himself, and protection for his weep­ing Delia; took me into his Arms, laid my Head to his beating Heart, and conjur'd me (in the name of all the gods) to forgive him, to Love him much, or else forget him soon.—Now, divine Sirena, let me drop the Curtain, and hide a Scene so moving, that my frighted Soul starts at the view. We lov'd and parted, and let that express the whole.

When he was gone, my cares for him in­creas'd, I had forgot a thousand things I had to say to him, nor could I tell to what Coun­try he design'd to commit himself. My Uncle (by Nature cruel) smil'd at my misery, and I had no comfort but the Tears of my Servants; of that too I rob'd my self, and discharg'd them all, excepting one Maid who had been with [Page 147] me from my infancy. His incens'd Creditors seiz'd upon his Estate, and I withdrew to a hum­ble House (some days Journey from that place) where I liv'd unknown, and secur'd from sharp­est wants by Jewels of considerable value, which my Valentio had left me.

In a few Months I brought a Son into the World, and tho' I saw not a Fortune sufficient to maintain him like the Heir of the great Valen­tio, yet I was o're-joy'd at this Gift of Heaven, and methought I read already in his Face the features of his Godlike Father; yet this comfort was scarce able to allay my griefs; I sigh'd for my absent Husband, and consum'd whole Nights in Prayers for his safety. Thus I liv'd without any change of Fortune, till one Morning as I sat by a River's side, and recounted my past ills, I espy'd on Horseback one of my old Servants. This sharpned my memory, and brought Valen­tio to my Soul, with all his graces and ravishing looks about him. But as I began to create this soothing Phantom, the Man approach'd; and with a merry Countenance told me Arates was dead. That to me he had left his Fortune, and that Heaven thought it fitting to reward my Vir­tue and Constancy. This News brought more grief than joy; for I no sooner remembred my sudden flight to Happiness, than I considered my Husband's absence. If he had been present how bless'd we had grown, Friends had encreas'd with our Fortune, and Love had Crown'd our joys.

In a few days I possest my Fathers House, where his Brother had made me so long a Priso­ner, and was visited by most of the Quality in [Page 148] the Country, and among'st those Valentio's Re­lations, all wish'd the Youth at home, but none yet knew that Kingdom in which he resided. A midst this pomp I found my Love for him held the first place in my Breast. Musick encreas'd my melancholy, and Scenes of mirth fann'd the passion to a height. At last another change befel me, which in short was this.

My Son was indispos'd, and I had laid him upon the Bed, where soon after falling asleep, I was oblig'd to endeavour the same state of silence to secure his; so that in a few Minutes (my Maids having quit the Room for fear of giv­ing disturbance) my senses were partly hush'd, and I lay by him in that Condition, which speaks the Soul not perfectly awake, or capable of pro­ducing a series of coherent thoughts, yet not wholly o'recome with the weight of drowsie Na­ture. I had spent five tedious Years alone with­out any real comfort, but the smiles of my Love­ly Infant, and therefore dreamt my poor Valentio dead. Methought I saw him pale and trembling at my Bed's side, accusing me of that I ne're committed; then threatning sad revenge for in­jur'd Honour, yet in his fury still with-held by Love. This suddenly rouz'd my wandering Judgment, and starting with the quick return of scatter'd thoughts, I leapt from the Bed, call'd for Valentio, sought him through the Room, as if I had really seen him, then laughing at my own frenzy, I retir'd into my Closet, where (to my infinite surprize) a Cavaleer (nobly drest) caught me in his Arms, and cry'd, Oh Delia! Delia!—I have thee—I see thee—my Reason runs to madness with excess of Joy, and I [Page 149] could sink beneath the vast load of soothing pleasure. The Charming voice soon inform'd my watchful Soul.—Oh gods!—Oh too kind Heav'n! (I cry'd) my Husband!—my Valentio!—my Love! Oh what shall I say? gladness confounds me, and [...] am dumb with ex­tasie. To express this meeting, Madam, I need say no more than that our Tears of Joy were as numerous as those of sorrow at our parting, when we never dreamt of being blest again. My hasty impatient fancy started a thousand questi­ons, which spoke my love out-run my tardy Judgment, and he (who had as much to ask as my self) answer'd in one word, and made new demands in the next. We gaz'd on each other, then embrac'd, kiss'd the dear pledge of our Loves (who was now awake) sigh'd, and bill'd again like cooing Turtles in a shady Grove, where peeping lights inform them storms are past, and they may perch again on loftier Boughs. When the first transports were over, I inform'd him of my. Fortunes, and he (to oblige me) gave this succinct and Cursory account of his ab­sence.

WHen I left thee (my lovely Delia) I felt all those pains which could possess a ten­der Soul; one who had lov'd, and made the Centre of his wishes miserable, while her good­ness (that permitted her not to complain) show'd (in more lively colours) the horror of his guilt. I had not before that time examin'd my own re­solutions, and being wholly indifferent in what Country I spent the remainder of hated life, I rid some days rather a confus'd Wanderer, than [Page 150] a formal or resolv'd Traveller. At last I arriv'd (after 7 Months spent on the way) at a Frontier Town of Peru-alta, and there having learnt the Language of the Country, I went to the Camp, where the present King Pharnaces resided in Per­son. I had not stay'd long, e're oppertunity of­fer'd her self to my advantage, Fortune courted my wishes, and presented the Enemy to our view. We encounter'd, and (my losses having taught me how to value my Person) I did more than solid Reason could assent to, and had the honour to save my General when dismounted, and al­most trod to death by the Enemies Horse, who rush'd on in joyful crowds at their seeming Victo­ry, not coveting blood so much as a noble Priso­ner. This piece of service gain'd me his acquain­tance and esteem, and his Kinsman (the haughty young Antharsus) show'd me not a few signs of his good will. But Winter soon follow'd the Battel, and the Scene (where honour was to be got) withdrew, and left the impatient Youth of the Army in their Winter Quarters, wishing a return of the Year, that Mars would again show his Head, and rouze their dying Spirits. When that time came, my grateful General, who remember'd my past acti­ons, gave me the Command of five hundred Horse. And having receiv'd Orders to view the posture of the Enemy, I found my self encompas­sed in a Wood by a greater Number. My men shrunk when first assaulted, and offer'd to secure themselves by flight. But seeing that resistance I made with the remaining few, and finding the way stopt, they became more resolute, and turn'd to sell their lives for dear-bought honour. In this Engagement I lost three hundred and fifty Soul­diers, [Page 151] kill'd of the Enemy seven hundred and nine, and return'd to the Camp with sourscore Prisoners, of which he that commanded the ad­verse Party was one. The General (who was more o're joy'd at my success than my self) swore such an Action as this deserv'd to be eternally re­member'd, and next day presented me to the King, at which time I had the Honour to kiss his Hand, and to be stil'd the Soul of his Army. Reduan (for that was the General's name) extoll'd my Valour to the Skies, and the Queen (who was present) readily answer'd she believ'd all, for the Countenance of the Noble Stranger spoke his Praises to the World, e're he opened his mouth. I thankt her with that respect her Qua­lity inspir'd, and her Daughter (the Princess Almeria) whose Eyes were fix'd on mine, blush'd as I spoke.

Fortune (not yet wearied of doing good) brought me once more into the Field, where I sav'd the King's Life twice in one hour, and was at Night preferr'd to the Post of Captain of his Majesty's Guards, Gentleman of the Bed-cham­ber, and Knight of the Dacian Order. Alman­zor's Fortune never equall'd mine, for in less than six weeks after my Advancement, I beat the Enemy thrice; and at last drove them to the ne­cessity of suing for a Peace. The old King still entrusting me with his Army, while the gene­rous Reduan (wearied with the Toyls of War) attended his Prince's person, and saw the youth of Peru-alta sweating in blood for the smiles of that airy Mistress, Honour, of who's favour and friend­ship he himself had been long possest.

Things being at last compos'd to Pharnaces advantage, he abandon'd the hardships of a Camp for the softer pleasures of a Palace, and fix'd his moving Court on the Banks of the River Sapho. I had a stately Appartment assign'd me within the Gates, and at Night felt my self a Prisoner in a guilded Cage; thou my Dear Delia fill'd my Soul, I thought I saw thee pensive and alone, despis'd by all, and shun'd by those who knew thee, with­out Friends and without me, reflecting on thy past happiness, and mourning the present state; I've sigh'd for thee till my heaving Heart has shook the tottering Bed, and waking implor'd the Pity of the Gods, or if I dreamt, my Soul was with her I lov'd, survey'd her Charms, and return'd to glad my longing Heart, which too soon found out the tempting Cheat, and weep'd because it no longer cozen'd.

One Night while I lay in this Melancholy con­dition, a small noise on the Stairs surpriz'd me, immediately after my door was opened, and I could see the Queen enter my Chamber with a light in her hand. I feign'd a dead sleep, and she who took it for real, approach'd my Bed without any signs of fear. Stood almost motion­less, gaz'd upon me, sigh'd, and then retir'd. This odd sort of visit very much affected me, and tho' I had some grounds to suspect the Cause, yet it gave me matter enough for a great many reflecti­ons. But while I div'd into this Mystery, my Door was a second time set open, and I could hear a Woman's Foot press the floor, who after a short stay withdrew, and suddenly re-enter'd with a Candle, coming to my Bed's side, she [Page 153] show'd the Beauties of an Angel. She had a loose embroider'd Night-Gown about her, which some­times flew open, and discover'd to the View a thousand ravishing Charms, her tender Shapes glanc'd through the fine wrought Shift, and al­most gave Enjoyment by the sight, and I had no doubt shown my self awake, if she had not in a few Minutes abandon'd the Room. When she was gone, how soon did Delia's lovelier form check my wandering fancy, and I damn'd my past wishes when I thought of thee. Thy Beau­ties still surmounts hers, and that of all Women, and Almeria (for 'twas she) soon vanish'd from my Soul.

Next morning the King, Queen, and Princes went a Hunting, attended by most of the No­bility. As we past a spacious Heath some Miles from Court, it was my Fortune to ride next to her Majesty; she ey'd me with a pleasant Coun­tenance, and told me she presum'd by my looks, I came abroad to catch Hearts, that my Eyes had tenderness in them, and I could not fail of gain­ing some Fair Prisoner. This obliging discourse put me to the Blush, and I was at a loss for some time what to answer. While she, who was no stranger to intrigue and Gallantry, reassum'd the discourse, and told me that I was not oblig'd to study for an answer, since one kind look, or be­witching smile, was enough to repay a thousand such complements. Adding, she suppos'd I was Born a stranger to Peru-alta, I ow'd my Birth to some colder Climate, where Love was not the grand business of the Nation, that with them such addresses were common, that she was not yet very [Page 154] old, and the King already doated. Believe me Delia I knew not how to answer; the Letchery of the Royal Baud exceeded what I e're had seen in all my travels: But just as I was ready to speak, (and the sparkling of her Eyes inform'd me she wanted a return) the King approach'd, and I blest my Stars for the lucky hit. With the first opportunity I chose another Road, and fell into a new snare, studying to evite the old. For Almeria (who had seen me with her Mother) smiling ask'd me, if the Charms of a Queen had gain'd my Heart, if Majesty and Power could do more than Youth, and a moderate portion of Beauty. This strange Method very much sur­pris'd me, I had consider'd but faintly the na­tures of these Ladies, and almost fancy'd the King's Jealousie the cause of all, that they flatter'd to try me, and seem'd fond to advance my ruine. However as I was about to reply, Antharsus came galloping up, and I was opportunely reliev'd from a second Dilemma. He show'd a vast submission to the Princess's Commands, and the least of his Actions spoke his care to please, yet he did all with an Air that spoke him inwardly proud, and of a surly disposition. Almeria fretted at the accident, and by her Conversation gave him undoubted marks of her displeasure. The haughty young Souldier easily observ'd it, and guest the cause. The Natives of that Country are generally blacker than those of Merintha, and a Man of my Complexion seem'd a Demi-God amongst them. Next day I had a Note sent me to this purpose.

This did not much surprise me, I knew the Cause, he envy'd my Fortune, and judg'd I had robb'd him of his Honour, and that esteem the King and Army had of him, but most of all he grudg'd me Reduan's favour and Almeria's. In the mean time I fail'd not to wait upon him, and without a recital of Particulars, know, I got Victory on my side, for after he had receiv'd three Wounds, he fell with his Sword in his Hand. I soon order'd the Body to be taken up, and in my Coach (which waited at a small distance) sent him to his Apartment in the Court. Then going straight to the King, I fell upon my Knees, begg'd his Pardon, and confest the truth of what had past. The old Man weigh'd not the Challenge sent me, and giving way to his passion, commanded me instantly to Prison. I laid my Sword at my Prince's Feet, and with­out murmuring obey'd. At Night (when all was husht) Almeria came to see me, she urg'd her Love, the hazard she run for this dear Visit, bid me hope for sudden Freedom, and swore she'd abandon the prospect of being a Queen, rather than I should suffer. While she spoke [Page 156] the generous Reduan enter'd, and seeing the Princess, was about to retire; but she kindly call'd him back, told him she was fully assur'd of his Honesty and Friendship, and would conceal nothing from him; my Friend begg'd her Par­don and mine for the indiscretion of his Kins­man, and (knowing the Prince's mind) added he was glad of that choice she had made, for no Man could better fill the Throne of Pharnaces, than the Warlike Valentio, (for I had not chang'd my Name, because assur'd none knew from whence I came) that my Conduct spoke my Quality answerable to my Fortune, and my Courage fit for Empire. The Royal Maid was pleas'd with what he said, and in the mean time ask'd him what expedient he could propose for my Liberty? he (who ever esteem'd me beyond my Merit) advis'd her to confess to her Father that affection she had for me, which in the first place would secure my Life, if his Kinsman (who was dangerously wounded) dy'd; and Pharnaces having no more Children, could not (with reason safe) cross her inclinations too far, lest he should endanger her Health. Kind Al­meria at first was silent, but consulting Love, she gave consent; desiring Reduan first to speak favourably of me, and give him a hint of her passion, that she might not have the first shock of his fury, which would undoubtedly follow the unlook'd for News.

The General fail'd not to obey, and Pharna­ces (naturally hasty) storm'd at what he heard, wonder'd he should favour the murderer of his Kinsman, and a stranger, and swore my Life [Page 157] should answer for the Crime committed. My good old Friend alledg'd, he ought not to con­sider Valentio as a Foreigner, but the preserv­er of his Life and Honour, and one who possest the affection of his Souldiers and Daughter; as he pronounc'd these last Words the Princess enter'd, and by her Tears mollified the stubborn old Man; (for those subject to sudden anger are easily perswaded) you may believe, my Delia, I long'd to be inform'd of the success, and was pleasantly surpris'd when my Lieutenant en­ter'd, show'd my Keeper his Orders, restor'd me my Sword, and told me I was again a Fa­vourite. I knew this sudden Change an effect of Almeria's Love, Reduan's Friendship, and the Queen's Dotage, for as I was inform'd after­wards by her self, she forgot not to intercede for me with her easie Husband; Pharnaces receiv'd me with a calm brow, the Daughter blush'd, and the Mother bid me by her looks consider her as the Author of my Liberty. I was divi­ded amongst them, thou (my Dear) possest my Heart, Almeria my esteem, Reduan my Friend­ship and Gratitude, and the Queen my pity with a mixture of aversion. In the evening I went along with the General, and saw Anthar­sus show'd my grief for my own good Fortune, begg'd he'd believe me his well-wisher, and swore I was ready to serve him at all times, and upon all occasions.

A few days after the King took me a­side, and having call'd for Reduan, we enter'd his Closet, tho not before Orders given to ac­quaint the thronging Courtiers, that he was not [Page 158] to be seen. Valentio (said he with a kind air) my Daughter loves you too much, and though I have that esteem for you which all good Men have, yet I should be sorry, if I were oblig'd to give my Crown to a Man who has none of my Progenitors blood in his Veins, besides my Subjects will never submit patiently to the Go­vernment of a stranger. Advise with your Friend and mine, and (if possible) find a method by which I may be secur'd from my just fears, and Almeria's too violent passion may be kept a secret. I readily propos'd my absence, to which he and Reduan seem'd much averse, and forc'd me to second thoughts. I had conceal'd my Marriage from them both, and was now irre­solute if I should inform them; but finding no other way to escape, I confess'd the truth, told them, I had a Wife with the Face of an Angel, and the perfections of a goddess, one whom I could never cease to Love, and for whose sake I would abandon more than Empire. Pharna­ces rejoyc'd at the Discovery, and generous Re­duan was rather pleas'd than incens'd, because (as he said) I had Courage without extravagant Ambition, and a real Love without the base al­lay of Interest. The King (who was not long a plotting what next to do) conjur'd me to bring thee to Court, that nothing would sooner quench Almeria's flame, than to see me fond of another, whom I was more powerfully oblig'd to Love; that I should ever be Master of my present for­tune, and as opportunity offer'd, he'd advance me to a greater, that he was loath to lose so good a Friend and Souldier, and if I left the [Page 159] Court without designing a speedy return, his Daughter would think it an effect of his Com­mands, and would for ever impute the loss to him, languish for my absence, and murmur at his cruelty; that if my Delia's presence did not convince her of her errour, he'd afterwards be­stow upon me a competency for Life, and I should retire to what corner of the World I pleas'd. I left thee without a Fortune, I was ignorant of what Heaven had done for thee, and in a word, I embrac'd the offer. I kist the Queen's Hand, and that of the amorous young Princess, promis'd to return in a few Months, saw Antharsus in the way to perfect Health, and left the constant, kind Reduan sorrowful for my absence. On the road I had a thousand Fears for thy safety, and when I dreamt thee Well, I joy'd because my relenting Stars had made me Master of a Fortune suitable to thy Quality, tho' not Merit.

When I crost the River of Tara, which di­vides Merintha from Amula, I was inform'd of Arates's death, and coming straight to this House, I was told by your faithful Maid Me­lissa, that you was in this Chamber alone, con­cealing the Story of my little Son, that you might glad my Soul with the welcome News. When I enter'd, I found you upon the Bed, and espying the Hat and Feather beyond you, (the obscure light, for the Curtains were drawn, de­nying a full view of his Face) I had a thousand sudden Fears, I thought thee false, and in a height of unaccountable passion drew my Sword, with a design to punish the Treachery.—But [Page 160] oh, ye merciful gods! how ravish'd I was to know my self deceiv'd; for while▪ I struggl'd between sudden Passion, Love, and the weak remains of dying Reason, the lovely Boy mov'd. Pardon, O my Delia, (continued he, and tak­ing me in his Arms) this Crime, which nothing but excess of Love can excuse, and believe, that, satisfied and perswaded of thy fidelity, I retir'd into the Closet, with that joy at my Heart, which none can know till doubly bless'd like me.

Here he ended his Relation, and I felt the motions of my Heart, which are not easily ex­press'd. I griev'd the easiness of his Nature, that by a seeming guilt suffer'd his Reason to be dispossest, that unheard, he could resolve to pu­nish, and without Tryal pronounce my Doom. Yet these thoughts were soon remov'd, when I remembred his constancy, how for me he had renounc'd the hopes of a Crown, and for the smiles of a Wife, abandon'd courting Majesty. But that which most rack'd me, was the neces­sity I lay under, of traveiling to Peru-alta; I form'd to my self a frightful Idea of the Court, dreaded the Queen and Princess, and thought Valentio already forc'd from my Arms between them. But then remembring how far his Ho­nour was engaged, how gratitude forc'd his re­turn, and that he'd forfeit life sooner than his Promise; how the King esteem'd him, how Reduan lov'd him, and the interest his eminent Services had gain'd him in the Nation; I began by quick degrees to change those thoughts, for [Page 161] others more agreeable. In a word, Madam, after a few Weeks we began our Journey, and because nothing of consequence hapned on the Road, (excepting that Melissa lay three days sick) I shall change the Scene, and in a mi­nute, place my self at the Court of Pharnaces. The King swore himself o'rejoy'd at my Hus­band's Arrival, Reduan show'd a constant Friend­ship, the Queen smil'd, and Almeria alone seem'd dejected. She upbraided Valentio with Treachery, because he had dissembl'd his real Circumstances; yet said she forgave him, see­ing the Charms of his happier Delia sufficiently excus'd the Crime. The Youth at Court came frequently to see me, and Antharsus (who by the King's special Command was reconcil'd to my Husband) made always one in the Crow'd. He seem'd very much to affect my Maid, and believe me, Madam, she out-did all the Beau­ties at Court. The Princess, ('tis true) was lovely, and had a singular Majesty in all her Actions, yet not so powerful in the assault of a Heart as Melissa.

Things stood not long in this Posture, for my Husband's ancient Enemy still retain'd a perfect remembrance of the affront put upon him, and studying revenge, at last this opportunity offer'd. The General and Valentio were dis­coursing concerning the Natures of Women, the constancy of some, and the weakness of others, if the Causes proceeded from the disposition of the Body, or the Mind; and if any Man could assure himself of his Wife's fidelity, Reduan (according to his usual goodness) swore my Hus­band [Page 162] was happy, that he believ'd his Delia's Virtue proof against the strongest Temptation, and I seem'd Mistress of a Judgment of force to beat off those assaults, which (with incredible ease) would o'return the resolutions of others. Valentio thankt him for this Complement; and Antharsus swore all Women were fickle as the Winds; he'd debauch her, that pretended most to Chastity, and banish Virtue from her thoughts in less than three Days; that modesty with our Sex, was but a Cloak to private Sins, our Nature's wavering (or rather veering) to­wards the point of Vice, and with-held only by a fond Love of Reputation, which exactly weigh'd, is rather innate Pride. The General show'd his dislike of what he said, and calmly bid him consult his Reason e're he spoke; but my Husband who took impatiently every thing that came from him, and who knew the words levell'd against himself in particular, told him (with anger in his looks) that Delia was proof against him and all Men, that he should have access to his House, and if I chang'd my Love, or endanger'd his Honour, he'd forfeit his Life. Antharsus suddenly reply'd, 'twas too great a Wager, but he'd lay his Fortune at stake, (a common Bet in that Country) that Valentio should absent himself for three Days, and at his return receive undeniable proofs of his errour in trusting to a Woman. Honest Reduan chid his Kinsman, and oppos'd the budding mis­chief. But my Husband (confident of my Con­duct) was resolute, and swore he would not upon any terms desist; and that a few Days [Page 163] would experimentally teach the young Man, not to trust too much to his Merit, or to over­rate his Person or Parts.

Valentio soon writ to me, by which I was in­form'd, he had receiv'd sudden Orders from the King, that he was oblig'd to visit a Town some Miles distant, and I should not expect his re­turn till the fourth Day following Anthar­sus (already half assur'd of success) came imme­diately to see me, and took care that most of his acquaintance should have notice of his Visit, he frequented the Windows, and upon every trivial Occasion fool'd me thither, that all might know us together: At Night he enter'd privately, and finding Melissa in her Chamber, he renew'd his Addresses to her, she (whom Ambition had blinded) had scarce the power to deny him any thing. He swore boundless Love for her, and seem'd to desire nothing more than a speedy Marriage between them. With this bait he easily deluded the credulous Maid, and gave her large presents to confirm her in the mistake. On the other hand, he propos'd no other proof of her affection, than the delivery of that thing which her Mistress most esteem'd, and which she knew Valentio had given me. She readily comply'd, and (while I slept) stole the Key of my Cabinet, taking from thence this Cross which now you see, and which my Husband had given me when he fled from Merintha. The young Man (glad of his feign'd Victory) gave her a Jewel of a considerable value, con­jur'd her to conceal this Transaction from all the World, and retired to his own Ap­partment, [Page 164] eas'd because he had begun his Ri­val's ruin.

When Valentio return'd, he saw too soon the stoln mark of fictitious Conquest, and believ'd me base. He dissembl'd all when in my Com­pany, tho' not so well as to blind my fore-boding Soul. I askt the cause of his discontent, and he reassum'd his old excuse, want of Health. Thus we liv'd, I was ignorant of what had past, he jealous and tormented, Melissa glad of her com­ing Fortune, and Antharsus fond of his own Villany. The Nights were spent with diffe­rent passions on all sides, and Day was always welcome to my watchful Soul.

One Morning the lost Valentio askt me if I would go with him into the Fields: I readily consented, and having seated our selves in the Coach, we drove a Mile by the River's side, and then alighted. Sorrow prest his Brow, and his looks spoke his Heart plung'd in grief; yet still methought I read anger (or rather gloomy revenge) in his Eyes. We walkt another whole Mile without exchange of Words, and my Heart (sinking with the sudden apprehension of some coming mischief) taught me to expect greater troubles than yet I had known. While thus we walkt he caught me in his Arms, cry'd aloud, This for my Honour lost! Now Love Antharsus! Then threw me head-long down the hanging Bank. The Streams with mercy yet receiv'd me, and my Cloaths kept me a-float, till a Neighbouring Shepherd came to my relief. The poor Man took me home to his House, and made use of Remedies within his Power to bring [Page 165] me back to Life. When my Reason reassum'd its Seat, I enquir'd of my deliverer, if any o­ther Man appear'd to save me from sinking, and he assur'd me he had seen none. 'Tis not easie, Madam, to guess my Pains. I remem­bred every word my Husband spoke, when he plung'd me into the River; how furiously he look'd, and how his Eye-balls roll'd, that I was innocent, his Cruelty even beyond his Na­ture, that he had long design'd my Death, and that Repentance had not immediately follow'd the act, since he had not staid to afford me help when I struggl'd in the Water. Yet after all I lov'd him, 'twas that tormented my Soul, and I could have dy'd that very moment, if the de­sire of evincing my Innocence had not o're-rul'd that of Life.

In the mean time I was not to be found at Court; Antharsus industriously gave out, that Valentio had murder'd his Wife; and the King, who thought it an effect of ambition, and a de­sign to make way for his Marriage with Alme­ria, easily believ'd what was said, and gave im­mediate orders for his close Confinement. Now careless of Life and Honour, (since by his own Hands he had destroy'd what his Soul yet doated on) frankly confess'd the Crime laid to his charge, and tho' the Queen, the Princess, and sorrowful Reduan us'd their interest with Pharnaces▪ he was nevertheless brought to his Tryal, and Con­demn'd to lose his Head at his own Gate. The false Melissa did not yet grieve for what she had done, and urg'd Antharsus to the performance of his promise. The proud Youth was startled [Page 166] with the proposal, and considering the vast di­stance between a Princess and a serving Maid, he show'd her not a few signs of contempt. She ob­serv'd this, and to hector him into Compliance and good Nature, alledg'd the service she had done him, his Vows, and the opportunity she had to render him infamous by a full discove­ry. He, who fear'd nothing more, and who scrupl'd not to add one Crime to another, run her against the Table with his Sword, and so left her, pleas'd by a greater mischief to conceal a lesser. Melissa (now mortally wounded) faintly call'd for assistance; and Re­duan with several Officers entering, she confest her guilt, told them Antharsus had us'd her thus for fear of a discovery, begg'd my Hus­band's Pardon, (tho absent) and soon after dy'd. I had sent the poor Shepherd every day to Court, where (his Wife being a Nurse) he got certain information of all that past; and I was acquainted with this Accident, almost as soon as it happened. Then it was I went to see Valentio—Pardon, Madam, this too concise way of relating my Story; but the remembrance of that Joy he show'd, when he knew me alive, adds to my present pain, and makes me more sensible of my loss. Besides, I find the kind Sister extends her welcome Arm to cut my thread of Life. I have no more time than serves to inform you; Antharsus fled, My Husband was set at Liberty. We left Peru-alta as soon as possible, and designing to visit Fabria in our return to Merintha, that storm arose when we were upon the Coast, which [Page 167] robb'd me of my Son and Husband.—Oh Valentio!—I come!—now I'm—happy.—

This said, she immediately dy'd, and one Mo­ment finish'd her story, and her unfortunate Life. The Duke and Dutchess were sorry for her Death, and in a few days she was laid in the same Grave with her Valentio. Manderina had waited upon her too when alive, and during that small space of time, we renew'd our An­cient Friendship; she ask'd me concerning my Brother, and wish'd him success at Coloa; I wish'd her happiness, but not in the Arms of Martius, and she (not inclin'd that way so much as I had suspected) smil'd, and said, he deserv'd my Love but not hers; to me he show'd himself a Prisoner, but to her a Ro­ver; and one whom no Beauty could fix, or Charms confine. Artaxus inform'd me by his Letters, that Indoretta still prov'd kind, that Fernanthus Duke of Meroa (a mad piece of Quality) was his dang'rous Rival, because as­sisted with Mangroa's Authority, that he was oblig'd to live too incognito, and did not yet know when he would return.—Now, my dear Timandra, my Story draws towards a fatal Period, my Misfortunes exceed yours, and my Ruine was compleated by envious Destiny, in less than twenty days after the death of unfortu­nate Delia.

My Welcome Lover had come to see me at the usual hour, and after some time spent in my [Page 168] Company descended again into the Garden. Bonzeda it seems waited there with a design to serenade me, and approach'd the Window just as Martius was upon the foot of his supple Stairs. The Youth finding himself surpris'd, and not knowing their intention, or whom they were, drew his Sword, and laid the unwary Count dead at his feet. Xensa (who was not yet asleep, and too soon heard the noise) came run­ning down the back Stairs; but not examining the Party or the Cause, he chose the weakest side, and was kill'd by Bonzeda's Servants, e're he had well enter'd the Garden. Poor Martius still defended himself, and the back door be­ing suddenly broke open, a Cavalier rush'd in to his assistance. The clashing of the Swords, with the confus'd Shrieks and Oaths of those engag'd, awak'd both Families, and now a bloody Combat commenc'd (or rather was renw'd) the Count's Servants fought to revenge their Master's full, and my Lover for his Liberty. At last he was a Conquerour, and the Enemy fled. 'Twas then he had leisure to thank the Stranger for his assistance. Dur­ing this bloody Scene, I had still slept, and it seems my kind Lover, (more cautious for my Reputation th [...]n my self) had left me in that condition, chusing rather to leave me without a word at parting than run the risque of a discovery by his stay. However, I awak'd just as they enter'd my Chamber, and seeing Martius and my Brother (for 'twas he that had assisted him) cover'd with blood, I leapt from the Bed, ask'd the Cause, and almost rav'd [Page 169] with the sudden fright. My Lover (still an­xious for me) would have conceal'd the truth, till he had prepar'd my mind for the shock; but Artaxus in few words inform'd me of all, and added that Ericis had seen him in Coloa; that she acquainted Meroa with it, who soon after sent him a Challenge, that he fought him, and had the fortune to kill him, that he had posted home with a design to provide himself with Mony, and to settle his affairs; that as he arriv'd, he heard the clashing of Swords in the Garden, and forc'd the Door from off its hinges, to give relief to those oppress'd. Madam, you may paint my griefs from your own: And tho' the loss of Con­stant Adrastus, exceeded that of a Father, yet to remove the inequality, I saw my Brother and my Lover oblig'd to abandon Fabria. How­ever to make my misery truly equal to your own, I was robb'd of Martius and Artaxus too. For they had not been gone six Months, (during which time, I receiv'd many Letters from them) when I was inform'd of both their deaths; the occasion of which take in few words.

They had fled into the Province of Cathinna, where wearied with so long an absence from those they lov'd, they at last resolv'd upon a Jour­ney home. By the way they lodg'd in a small Village, where (not finding conveniences for lying together as they us'd to do) they chose their respective [...]nns. At Night my Lover's Host, discours'd the story of Xensa's and Bonze­da's death, and how young Mangroa had by his flight confess'd himself guilty of the Murder. [Page 170] Martius was very much surpris'd with the Rela­tion, and scarce thought himself safe; but being al­ways of an invincible courage, these thoughts soon fled, and he retir'd to his Chamber. My Brother's fortune was almost the same; for his Hostess spent most of the Night on his Adventure concerning Fernanthus; and being at Supper with him, she said to her Husband, This Gen­tleman (looking on my Brother) very much re­sembles Young Xensa; if he is the same Fame paints him amongst us. Artaxus smil'd, and soon after went to bed, where (wearied with his Journey) he fell asleep, and dreamt no more of what had past. About midnight the House was surrounded with Arm'd men, their leader crying, guard the Doors, and secure the Murderer. It seems, Madam, a High-Way Man, who had robb'd, and afterwards kill'd a Gentleman, ten Miles from that place, had come to the same Inn that Evening, but not known to be such, he had pay'd his reckoning and pursu'd another Road. The now Duke of Xensa surpris'd with the sudden noise, started from the Bed, and laid hold of his Sword, resolv'd either to purchase li­berty, or fall in the attempt. In the mean time Martius could find no rest, he dreamt of some coming danger, yet knew not what it was, and fear'd my Brother's safety more than his own. At last hearing a noise in the Streets, he call'd his watchful Host; and enquir'd into the cause. He soon inform'd him, and the Youth (judging my Brother betray'd) half drest, and Arm'd on­ly with his Sword, run to his assistance, and came iust as Artaxus had engag'd with the furious [Page 171] Mobb, who, by his resistance, and desperate en­deavour to escape, easily believ'd him the Robber, and us'd their utmost force to repel his. Young Mangroa no sooner arriv'd, than he made his way through the Rabble, and calling aloud for Artaxus, at last reach'd him. Xensa hearing his own name proclaim'd, concludes they cer­tainly knew him, and not discerning his Friend in the dark, or remembring his Voice in the hurry, he turn'd his Sword upon him, as his most dangerous Enemy; because next to his Per­son. My Lover from his resistance argu'd his own mistake, and sought to secure himself by the death of his Adversary.—Oh! Cru­el Heavens! they both fell, my Brother was kill'd by my Lover, and Artaxus robb'd me of Martius.—Judge of my sorrow by my misfortune, for I'm perswaded, Madam, no loss ever equall'd mine. The Dutchess dy'd with sudden grief. The constant Indoretta poyson'd her self, and the kind Manderina languish'd a few Months, and then fled into the other World. I had then retir'd from pomp and noise, and spent the remainder of my Years in Devotions, if my Friends had not over-perswaded me to the Contrary, and with cunning Arguments had not juggl'd me into a love of Liberty, and aversion to a recluse Monastick Life. However, in not abandoning the World, I had the Happiness of your acquaintance, for you came to my House, Madam, two Years after this Tragedy had been Acted.—Excuse me if I have not Writ my Letter with that Art you show in yours, or if I have dwelt too long upon the story of un­happy [Page 172] Delia, think 'twas my design to divert you from too serious thoughts.—I'm glad my Cousin the Abbess is your Friend; and am,