Aloisia, OR, THE AMOURS OF OCTAVIA Englished.

To which is adjoyned the Histo­ry of Madam du Tillait, both dis­playing the Subtilties of the Fair Sex.

LONDON, Printed for Jacob Tonson, at the Judges Head in Chancery-Lane, near Fleet-Street, 1681.

TO THE READER.

WE must confess Love is of so subtle and ingeni­ous a Nature, that it easily finds ways to effect its Ends, when it has any De­sign of rendring it self Master of any Heart. In effect we see very few escape, upon whom it hath made any Enterprise, which it seldom does unless certain be­fore [Page]of Victory; they who resist and lay any Obstacle in its way, being those who commonly feel the effects of it most violently.

There are in the World two sorts of People who displease me most of all; the first of them are Painters, who not having been skil­ful enough to invent or to compose Colours lively enough, wherewith to draw Eyes for Cupid, have taken a Phancy to represent him blind to us, and they value them­selves for giving occasion to a common, but false Proverb, that [Page] Love is blind. It seems to me more reasonable to say, that the Cloth with which they blindfold him, serves rather for a covering for their Ignorance, since with all their Endeavours they have not been able to make Eyes for any Deity, which could come near the Vivacity, Splendour, or Eclat, with which his ought to appear. For if (as the Ignorant would perswade us) he did not see at all; how could he have subjected to himself so many as live now un­der his Laws; could he without [Page]Eyes have enlarged his Empire over the whole Earth? We see his Conquests are without Number or Bounds; besides I know that where he would insinuate himself, he makes greatest use of the Eyes of one Object to inflame another, which he would not do, did he not know that the Eyes were of all the Senses the most susceptible, because they are the first, which discover. There must be know­ledge of it in him, this Know­ledge cannot be acquired without Study, and what means are there [Page]for one blind to become Learned, when the most necessary of Fa­culties, the sight fails him. It cannot be denied notwithstanding, but that Cupid is learned, since we see by dayly experience that he confounds the most solid of Reasons, and that no body can enter into dispute with him with­out being certain to be worsted. It is just therefore to defend him from the wrong which is en­deavoured to be done to him by taking away the chiefest of his Ornaments.

The seeond sort of men I hate, are a sort of particular per­sons who make a necessity of what is mere accident: I mean those People who will have it to be an infallible thing, that Fortune is ne­ver seen in the same place with desert. I know very well that they dwell rarely in the same sub­ject. But in fine it is ill, to think to take that for indispensably ne­cessary, which is only the effect of Chance. It is true, that one hap­pens much oftner than the other, for we see some to whom the [Page]name of Merit, has, not had so much as access, toward whom notwithstanding Fortune has been lavish; and on the contrary, o­thers who have merited all things yet have had nothing. But after all, there are to be found, those who possess both, there being this difference between them, that those who have merit, find within themselves content. For a man of sense ought to consider that it is more honourable not to have what one deserves, than to possess what one does not deserve; and it is [Page]in this manner that he enjoys all things, and in far a more noble manner, when he even wants eve­ry thing; whereas he who has eve­ry thing he wishes for, enjoys no­thing unless he enjoy himself, o­therwise it being but an imagi­nary or visionary Possession, whereof he never tasts the true good, being naturally unworthy of it. As for those who have both, we may say, if they have more happiness, it is only with the Vulgar, since as I have said For­tune contributes nothing to the fe­licity [Page]of a great Courage, and he ought to borrow from none but him­self to make himself truly happy; I come back to my Theam, and advance to convince those visibly whom I have undertaken, that there are several who have extra­ordinary Merits to whom Fortune hath also been favourable, which the following Relation will not a little Illustrate.

ALOISIA: OR, The Amours OF OCTAVIA.

THe easie Humour of ma­ny Husbands, and the freedom of Access to be had with an infinite number of fine Women, rendred Paris one of the most pollisht and agreeable Cities of the World. It was but being of an Amorous Temper, and a man was certain to lead a happy Life, and if in the beginning any Lover happened to [Page 2]be crossed in his Passion, his Mi­stress would be sure not to leave him any longer in his Affliction than it was necessary to make him have the more rellish of the sweet of being beloved; The greatest Beauties did not scorn this Artifice of ingaging their Gallants faster to them; Octavia alone was Enemy to all these little Amorous tricks, confessing ingenuously that no­thing was so troublesome to her as a Lover who was three days without declaring his Passion, and to whom she should be forced to make the advances; for she loved to have him free and open, never to hide any thing from her, not even his weaknesses, and if he felt any Amorous motion stirred up by her he should let her know it in the same moment. But before I speak of the Amours of this free hearted Lady, let me describe her [Page 3]Person to you. The shape of her Face is an irregular Oval, her Eyes are gray, and her look with them very lascivious, her Mouth too wide, but of a fine colour, her Forehead little, her Nose long and lean, her Chin picked, her Teeth very white, her Hands dry, hard and ugly, upon which one may discover the least Vein, her Hair is of a chesnut colour, and curled in great Curls, and her Complexion smooth, and sometimes very good; she is for shape little, and Arched, and the many shocks her body has endured makes it have no firm Si­tuation, it balancing from one side to the other upon her Hips; as for the skin of her Neck and her Breasts it is incomparable, and it may be very well said of her that she hides what is finest about her, and that happy are her Lovers who have liberty to see all her [Page 4]Beauties. Yet I have often heard them complain, that in the least heat this fine Body sends forth a smell, which is not so pleasing to the Nose, as the Body is to the o­ther Senses; She always takes great care to have her Shoes and Stockings well put on, the Silk stockings she wears are always drawn up half way her Thigh, and her Garters are very neatly tyed; no Woman takes so much care to carry her Feet well as she; As for her Mind, she has a great deal of Life, but little Judgment, and very wild, her Humour is haughty, jilting, malitious, and jealous, she is not able to endure the Caresses are made to other Women (as if she had where­withal to content all Mankind:) It is enough to be handsom to be her Enemy, she speaks continually ill of the prettiest, and invents all [Page 5]ways possible to give ill Impressi­ons of them; She has no small kindness for Money, and the most beloved of her Gallants are not al­ways the handsomest, nor those who have most Merit, but the greatest liberallity; and if there happen to be any one that does not leave sometimes upon her Ta­ble a Looking Glass, a Necklace of Pearl, or some other fine thing, he is looked upon with less tenderness than the others.

Octavia, although such a one as I have described, at her first begin­ning to receive Company, or her first Entrance into the World, had notwithstanding, a great crowd of Adorers, and some of the chiefest and hansomest of the young men of Paris (where she then lived) who were so well mannaged by her, that she did not loose one; But Cleander was most kindly re­ceived, [Page 6]and most loved by her, this Lover by the officious care he had of giving her often changes of Trimmings, had made a won­derful progress in her heart, be­sides he was not the worst made in the World, his shape was very neat and well set, his meen very passable, but his Complexion ex­ceeding swarthy, his Eyes rough, his Mouth big, and wide from Ear to Ear, a great quantity of Hair curled in large Curles, he was wit­ty, quick, undertaking and capa­ble of great things; a little too much a bragger, and one of those Huffs, who think one must be bru­tish, and passionate, and quarrel every one he meets, to be thought a man of Courage, his most vio­lent Passion is for Women, and he gives himself wholly up to them: This did not a little hasten the ef­fecting his Design upon the heart [Page 7]of Octavia, he obtained an abun­dance of small favours from her, and received all the signs of a ten­der Passion: but he having no thoughts of Marriage, valued only the solid pleasures of Love; One day he went and finding her alone, after having made some Present according to his Custom, he knelt down upon the ground with one Knee, and taking her hand, he kissed it several times, and spoke thus to her: You tell me you love me better than all Mankind besides; but what signs have you ever given me of this tender Friendship, that can make me think my self happier than any other of my Rivals? They see you as well as I, they have your leave to discover their passions to you, they sigh in your presence, and in fine I cannot make one step be­fore you which I do not see them i­mitate. You would notwithstanding [Page 8]have me perswade my self by an im­plicite Faith, that I am happier in your heart than they are; Oh Ma­dam, Madam, do not dissemble; Had you that Love for me which you pre­tend, you would easily have made me (before this time) sensible of it by more pressing and stronger proofs. Nature is not so unkind to the fair, as not to have endowed them with stronger Links, whereby to keep their Prisoner longer in their Chains; she has distributed amongst them inesti­mable Treasures with which they may reward Constancy and Fidelity. These are the most solid Evidences by which you can let me know the dif­ference you make between other men and my self; you may very well think my Discretion will never suffer such a Secret to come out of my Mouth, and that I would rather have my life torn from me than discover it; in concluding his Discourse, he ven­tured [Page 9]with the greatest amorous Transport imaginable, to slip up his hand towards that place, which it is more natural to touch, than modest to name. Hold, hold, re­plied Octavia (giving him such a manner of repulse, that he perceiv­ed she was not much disobliged by his way of proceeding) you go on strangely fast, and do not consider the ill effects which would follow: If I should condescend to what you would have me, to what a mi­serable condition should I be re­duc'd, if by the shameful and al­most inevitable Effects, what I had done for you should come to be known? All the World would look me out of countenance, and I should after such an Infamy be­come the scorn of those who at present seek after me with a vio­lent Passion, for Marriage. I know very well Honour is but a Whim­zy, [Page 10]a fine Phancy which has been invented to keep those of our Sex within the bounds of duty; but they are such Phancyes (though perfectly Visionary) as we are ob­liged to run after for some time if we will live happy. When we are ingaged in Marriage, our shame is then less because it has more sharers, we have then liber­ty to do what we please, since we have a Cloak to cover all disor­ders; and having no witnesses, no­thing is spoken but by weak Gues­ses, wherefore we can then look upon what ever can be said of it, as only Malice and Lies; It will be in that time that we shall live hap­py (my Dear Cleander) and that by a wonderful Art we shall unite more strongly our Souls and Hearts. Schelicon the Doctour you know (to whom without doubt by rea­son of his great stupidity I shall be [Page 11]able to give what fold I please) vi­sits me very often, shewing the greatest eagerness possible to mar­ry me, and his Fortune is too con­siderable to be refused. This makes me humour him that I may be the sooner his Wife, and conse­quently have the more liberty to be yours. What Madam, replied Cleander, do you intend to come soiled with the kisses of a stupid Brute, and offer me the reliques of his brutishness; can you want wit to that degree as to suffer such an Original to gather the first Flowers of your Youth and of your Love? and will you prefer him before me?

No, no, replied Octavia, I know very well what difference to make between him and you, and I pro­mise you that I will give you a randezvous, when the Marriage is just upon the point of concluding, [Page 12]which shall assure you of my Per­son as well as my Heart. Cleander pressed her extremely upon the same Subject all the remaining time of their Conversation, and told her that he had admirable Re­ceits to prevent the evil she fear­ed: but all he could say was un­successful, and he was forced at last to build all his hopes upon the promises she had made to him.

She after this Adventure dealt so cunningly with Schelicon, and got his esteem and heart so wittily, that he thought the happiness of his Life depended upon marrying so fine and so vertuous a Maid, and thought he ought not to lose one moment in hastning to possess so great a Treasure; he met with no great Obstacle, for her Parents who knew her to be of a wild and giddy Inclination, were glad to be discharged of her into the hands [Page 13]of the Doctour, and were easily brought to consent to have it ac­complished in few days. The hearing of this good News did not a little rejoyce Octavia, her mind being so pleased with it, that she could not contain from giving Cle­ander notice of it by the following Letter.

Octavia to Cleander.

SChelicon is to marry me very suddainly: but Just Heaven, how little reasonable are we to ingage our selves to do any thing. I trem­ble, my Dear, when I think you should remember what I have pro­mised to you. I must confess to you ingenuously, that if I were so unhap­py as to see you, late this Night in my Chamber, summoning me accord­ing [Page 14]to my promise, I am so strict an observer of my Word, that I should without doubt grant you what I have promised: I conjure you therefore do not come, and I shall always own that obligation to you which you will de­serve by it.

Octavia.

Cleander easily understood the meaning of the Letter, and soon perceived his Mistress would that Night crown his Wishes: so that without giving any Answer, he stayed with such an impatience, as such a Lover as he must needs have, expecting the coming of happy Night, that by means of its darkness he might go into her Lodgings unperceived. He was skilful in these Affairs, and found out his time so well that he per­formed what he had designed, and [Page 15]found her alone in her Chamber; he lost no time having so fair an opportunity, and by a thousand lit­tle freedoms he took, he wakened in her heart a secret motion which made her change colour several times: he follows his Point, takes his advantages of her weakness, and loosed to Action some thing more powerful, which she could not resist, and this Amorous Lady found her self at last forced to yield up her Arms and Life in a sweet Amorous Languishment to her Conquerour; she came often again to hand with him, and as long as Cleander had any vigour or strength left, this Combate was continued; she never ceased, saying all Night long, that Man was a strangely well contrived Creature, and that she saw nothing in the World which equall'd him in Merit; she did nothing but contemplate with [Page 16]the greatest curiosity what Nature had endowed him with more than her, and foundin him nothing but Subjects of Admiration & Pleasure; the Joy which she had received in all the Attacks which her Lover had performed with such Honour, made her sollicite still for more, she seeming to gather new strength by the failure of his; It was not so with poor Cleander, he was per­fectly exhausted, and his strength failed him, he was willing to enter the Lists again, but a Law of Na­ture full of cruelty forbad him to proceed: which Octavia observing, and expecting no further satisfa­ction from him, she had him con­ducted out of her Lodgings with the least noise and most secrecy she could; as soon as day began to appear, she went afterwards to Bed, where she remained all that day, pretending to have some slight [Page 17]Indisposition upon her.

Schelicon made appear all the weakness of a transported Lover, when he learnt the news of this pretended sickness, he cried and howled in the hideousest manner in the World, and stamping with his feet against the Ground, he lifted his Eyes to Heaven in so dis­agreeable and so fantastical a way, that far from moving any that saw him, it was impossible for them to keep from laughing. No matter were he ten times a greater block­head, he is wisht for for a Husband, and if he know what it is not to be a burthen to a Wife all Night, he shall be received with open Arms, without being inquired in­to for any thing else; Octavia has a mind to be satisfied in that Point, and know what he is worth; for this reason she re-assumes her for­mer health, and puts her self into [Page 18]a condition to receive him for a Husband on the day appointed. The Marriage being accomplished, both stay only for the pleasures that expected them at Night, not giving any heed at all to any Day-Diversions.

Octavia by an affected blush counterfeits the modest shamefa­ced Maid, and says she had rather die than pass a Night with a Man, whilst Schelicon pushed on by his Passion alone seizes her with vio­lence, and throwing himself brisk­ly into her Arms, after having made her cry out some moments by reason of the pains she preten­ded to endure, rowling languish­ing Eyes, and losing her Voyce, she became unmoveable, and pre­tended to swoon away. The poor Husband thinks her already dead, and fancies so tender an Age was not able to endure such fierce At­tacks, [Page 19]he does all he can to bring her out of the swoon: But Vine­gar, and all he could put in her Mouth was not able to recover her; he thinks therefore to have re­course to the Surgeon, and to that intent calls his Man, but she in that moment seem'd to come to her self, and recovering the use of her senses, she cries out to him (laying her hand negligently upon him) My Dear Heart, what a naughty man you are, you have made me endure more than ever I did in my Life before; he asked her par­don, and seemed to be much trou­bled, telling her that these were only the first Crosses of a Married Life; but that she should have as much pleasure hereafter, as she had suffered pain now; she was very well pleased with him the first Night, although one must be of a strange taste to rellish him, [Page 20]for he is very corpulent, of an ill shape, and abominably big, a great pretender to Jests, but without any Wit, all his pleasure is to play up­on Husbands for their jealous hu­mours. In his Face there appears nothing but stupidity and brutish­ness, and whosoever observes his Actions will find in them all the instinct of a Beast under the shape of a Man; he has a Heart which is little, base, and capable of all sorts of weakness; but as for his Liver it lies bravely great, and all the reputation he has acquired, is to be accounted the greatest Eater in the Country; he would have People think him a Learned Man, but those who are well acquainted with him know that unless he had the Sciences by Infusion he cannot have acquired any Knowledge in them, since he hath applied his Mind to nothing but the knowing [Page 21]when to discard an Ace in good time, whereby to get a Repicque; this may be said to his advantage, that he is very open and reserves no­thing to himself, things which are most private with others, are most publick with him. A Husband thus composed, was just such an one as was fit for Octavia, he was not troublesome, and when any Lover made her a Visit, he (after having thanked him for the honour he did her) quitted the Room out of respect, and left him alone with his Wife. Cleander was one of the first who returned to storming of the Place, after Marriage; it was the greatest pleasure in the World to him, to learn from her own Mouth the Art she had used to perswade her Husband she had always lived vertuous and chast. He was ready to die with laugh­ing when she related to him the [Page 22]perplexity in which the poor Hus­band was by reason of her pre­tended swoon, the ingenious little troubles he had given himself to bring her to her self again, and the zeal with which he had asked her pardon for hurting her; she took care not to omit the least Circum­stance; and in fine in this and all the other Visits her Gallant made to her, the Husband was always the Subject of their Mirth; she giving Cleander reason enough to know by the many favours she bestowed upon him, that a Wife was much more obliging and easie than a Maid.

In the happy Course of this Vo­luptuous Life, an unfortunate Ac­cident happened which disturbed the pleasures of these two Lovers. As Cleander one day was come to see Octavia, she brought him into the Hall, where after having [Page 23]knocked at the door of her Hus­band's Closet, which was on one side of the Hall, and called him several times, without his answer­ing once (desiring not to be inter­rupted in some Affairs he was a­bout) she begun to be more confi­dent within her self, thinking for certain he was not within; so that in this great Liberty she but very gently repulsed the pleasing and strong violences of her Lover, and the resistance she makes is only to re-inforce his Attacks; he sighs, his Eyes seek hers, to foretel them the pleasures they are just going to taste, his Lips imprint a thou­sand Kisses upon her Mouth, and his Hands full of Fire, seize upon her and lay her down upon a Bench that was there. Then with the greatest Transports of Love re­entred that Fort, where he had be­fore found a kind Reception. In [Page 24]the midst of his Joys he heard a Noise, and saw Schelicon coming out of the Closset where Octavia had knocked; this hindering him from finishing what he had begun, he goes hastily out of the Hall, and with so much precipitation, that he had not leisure to take his Sword with him. Octavia in fu­ry immediatly, putting down her Coats, takes it up, and drawing it out of the Scabbard, presents it to Schelicon with the Point towards her, speaking to him in these Words: Pierce, Pierce, a thousand times this Heart which another's Crime would have rendred guilty; and spare not a Miserable Creature, which Heaven had chosen out to be the infamous object of the most horri­ble bestiality whereof Man was ever capable; I deserve Death, since my fatal Beauty, and my Looks as inno­cent as they are, have been able to [Page 25]inspire such base and shameful thoughts, and I ought to shed my own blood to wash another's Crime: But if I may be permitted to say something in Justification of my self before I die: Know then that al­though she who has had the honour to be chosen for your Wife be unfor­tunate yet she is innocent and par­takes not at all in the fault of that infamous Fellow. I was sitting down upon the Bench, and slept, when at my awaking I found my self in the hands of insolent Cleander: Hea­ven is my witness, what were my thoughts, & whether the painfullest of deaths, would not have been more wel­come to me than this Infamy: I threat­ned him to cry out, I cry'd out, got loose from him, knock'd at your door, call'd you to my help, endeavour'd to avoid his violence; and my Nails imprinted upon his Face the effects of my weak revenge. But all I could [Page 26]have done Alas, would have been to no purpose, had not you appeared to restore to me that honour which this base Fellow was ravishing from me; But why do you delay (dear Schelicon) my Death, since it is the only cure of desperate and generous hearts? Re­venge, Revenge, my Injuries upon Cle­ander, I request it of you before my Death, and cease to oppose my De­signs; that which the Sword has fail­ed of, I will obtain by Poison. I owe the loss of my Life to my own reputa­tion: The Ladies of Paris can never think I will outlive this Disgrace.

In ending her Discourse she got hold of the Sword she had given to Schelicon; and feigned an endeavour to strike it into her Breast, but he snatched it away, speaking thus to her; What are you about to do, Madam, do you think it well, to punish the Inno­cent for the Crimes of an insolent [Page 27]guilty Man? Is it to have either generous or reasonable thoughts? Nay, do not you fear God's pu­nishment upon you for it? Tell me, can you be guilty of the Crimes of another, when your pure Will detects and abhors it? There must be consent to make a Crime, it is in him alone, and that pureness, which remains in the midst of Corruptions is a sacred Oyl which preserves it self in frail and impure Vessels? What would you then be contented yet (re­plied Octavia, shedding an abun­dance of Tears) to allow so mise­rable a Creature, the Illustrious Name of your Wife, and can you receive her into your Arms, after having been held in those of ano­ther sure you do not think seriously that a Wife whose thoughts are so noble and virtuous, can look upon you after this Disgrace without [Page 28]dying of Melancholy?

Schelicon, after having wiped away her Tears, embraces her, and gives her a thousand Kisses with a more passionate fury than ever, whether because she looked better than at other times, or for what o­ther reason, I know not; he examins her, and asks her every little Cir­cumstance of what had happened: whether she had felt any Titillati­on, and if Cleander had been in a­ny Extasie? She assures him he could not, by reason of the resi­stance she made. By this Assurance he received, he concludes that no­thing of his Copy-hold was touch­ed, and is so well satisfied, that em­bracing her in an Amorous Trans­port, he carries her upon a Bed: Oh! how can you love me, says she, since you are so little sensible of what concerns my Honour. No, no, I cannot endure you, and [Page 29]I have conceived such a horrour for all Mankind, after such an Af­front, that I could almost revenge it upon you. Schelicon, without staying to answer her, made some­thing intercede in favour of his Love, which she was never in her Life able to resist, so that he finish­ed the Work which was left im­perfect by his Wife's Gallant. It is true she behaved her self so mo­destly on this occasion, that she would not (do what he could) be perswaded to let him see her na­ked: She continually putting down her Petticoats, saying, that it was against the Rules either of Honour or Good Manners for a Wife to satisfie the lustful looks of a Husband.

Cleander, who had heard from the next Chamber (where he had remained) what had passed be­tween Schelicon and his Wife, [Page 30]transported with Fury, as she came into the Room, not minding any thing, came up to her, holding this Discourse to her: I am then, Ma­dam, that unhappy Victim, you have chosen to have sacrificed to your infamous pleasures; you must have had one, and you have made the Lot fall upon me; and by an unparallelled excess of cru­elty, you have made me the Wit­ness, the Judge, and the Executio­ner of my own Punishments, your Lips moist with my Kisses, your Eyes full of Amorous Looks, your Heart full of sighs in my Favour, your Soul raised to a noble and di­vine Temper; You go and cast your self in my presence into the Arms of another, and after that I had kindled a Noble Fire in your Soul, you suffer it to be extinguish­ed by the beastly and shameful Em­braces of the vilest and basest [Page 31]Men. If you would but suspend (answered she) Cleander, your Re­sentments, I should easily make you understand, that as it was you alone who kindled that Flame in my Heart, you alone quenched it; Is it not true that the Soul is sen­sible but of what the Imagination represents, and that since mine was filled in greatest ravishments of pleasure, with your Idea, I may well say that for you I saw it rais­ed, and for you I saw it die? Oh! replied Cleander, when one lends the Body, it is very hard to keep the Soul from following it, that Union being not to be broken without great Violence. Say ra­ther, Madam, that you do not love Cleander, that you love only Man in him, and he will answer you, that if ever he has loved you, he detests that Love as the most un­worthy failing he was ever capable [Page 32]of in his Life, and that hereafter he will look upon you with as much Horrour and Scorn, as here­tofore you appeared to him to be aimable. Saying these Words, he went angrily out of the Chamber, not so much as vouchsafing to hear what Octavia had to say for her self: She called him back several times, and made use of all the lit­tle Arts with which she used to calm the Fury of her Lovers, but without success, for since that time he would never see nor hear of her, publishing all the ills he can of her; she soon comforted her self for the loss of him, reflect­ing she could not receive any more of his Visits without great hazard after what she had said to Schelicon of him: Besides, he was not of late so liberal as he had been, want­ing money often, but above all the sweetness of variety was a perfect [Page 33]Cure. There was no long Inter­regnum, she quickly got another Gallant, who was in her opinion well worth Cleander: He did not indeed say so much, but he did much more; and the happy por­tion which was distributed to him by Nature held the place both of Wit and Desert. After him came another, and then another; and at last she ordered matters so that she did not let escape one young man of any Fashion in Paris, without her being informed of his blind side, as well as his excellency: Yet this voluptuous Life of hers at last was publick to all the Town, either by their indiscretion, or by the Satyrical Humour of Cleander.

In fine she was now look'd upon only with shame & scorn, and every little hypocritical Gilt, whose con­duct was as little reasonable as hers, did nothing but talk of her actions, [Page 34]Rendezvous and Assignations, publishing with open mouth the disorders of her Life, she began to find she had done enough at Paris, and that her Trade was good for nothing when it was professed o­penly; so that she prevailed with her Husband to leave it upon some false pretences, and out of some pretended domestick Considerati­ons, which he at length yielded to; not knowing what it was to contra­dict her will, he consented there­fore to what she had so long solici­ted for, and chose Orleance for his place of Residence; she preferred this Place before all others, because she had heard the young men were as fit for her turn there, as any where in the World.

The very first day she came in­to this City, she endeavoured to take other measures than she had at Paris, and resolved to live after [Page 35]a different manner, thereby to gain a stock of Reputation and Esteem, she made at first an acquaintance with those Ladies of the Place, which passed for the discreetest and most vertuous, and by her ea­siness and plyable temper, got the friendship of the most sincere; she counterfeited a severity of vertue to admiration; and would never in any discourse allow, that there could be in the world any Woman so criminal as to give the least un­lawful freedom to a man, and maintained it to be an incredible thing; and pretended to be very much disobliged if any thing was said in her company liable to an ill construction, and when ever a­ny such discourse happened, she would immediately leave the com­pany with so well seeming a studi­ed sence of the Affront, that the most cunning of her own Sex, [Page 36]would take her to be in earnest: She put this constraint upon her self for some few days, but was soon tired with that way of living, and begun to make it known that something less of Reputation and more of pleasure was what she truly desired. There was not any man in Orleance that had yet ad­ventured to make an Address to her, and her greatest trouble now was the being reduced to so small an Ordinary, which was the cause she resolved to follow her inclina­tions and seek a more happy life; her Glass shewed her the little Beauty she had now remaining, and she saw very plainly that her two last Children had made her loose that splendour of youth she before carried in her Complexion; and that lively cast which was heretofore so easily perceived in her eyes; To repair these faults [Page 37]she had recourse to Paint, both white and red, so borrowing a Beauty which she owed only to Art, and which had a greater share in it than Nature. If she had af­terwards any severity in her hu­mour, it was only in Publick As­semblies, for when alone in an Al­core with a man of an Amorous Temper nothing was more tracta­ble; she wanted only some Per­son declaring himself in love with her to render her happy, that was enough, she loved him already before hand, without knowing either his Name or Merit. He who first broke the Ice was a Monk, who had left the Habit, who with his little Managements in that Condition, had gotten up a small Stock of Gold, which did not a little serve to advance his Affairs. The name of this Monk was An­thonine, he was tall and very slen­der, [Page 38]his head and eyes bow to­wards the Ground ever since his Noviciate, his Face is long and nar­row, two large bones covered with a rivelled skin, make up the shape of his Cheeks, below which are two great hollow pits, his eyes are sunk so far into his head, that the colour of them can scarce be per­ceived; his Chin is picked, his Nose hooked, and his Complexion of the deepest dark brown; Na­ture to accompany well this Face, has, instead of hair, given him two great broad Ears which rise up a­bove his head and make a pleasant Prospect, he does not want Wit, and expresses himself pleasantly enough, but is very vain and proud of his knowledge, cunning and cheating; he would be accounted a great Wit in Conversation, and with an affected voice speaks very ridiculously. Although he is re­ally [Page 39]uglier than I have described him; yet he found no difficulty in obtaining what he desired of Octa­via. That which is to be sold, mo­ney always commands, the ways of looking after it are only difficult. The first time he saw her she was walking upon the New Walks on the Town-walls, and perceiving him have his eyes fixed upon her, easily believed he was smit­ten; she fixes her looks upon him with a studied Languishment; and pretending to be surprized by his, blushed, and cast down her eyes with so well an affected Modesty, that it presently served to increase his Passion: Upon this weak Con­jecture he was resolved (though upon never so dear terms) to get her Acquaintance, and like a true experienced Monk, began with en­deavouring to make a Friendship with her Husband. He soon found [Page 40]that all his pleasure consisted in being whole days at his meals and play; and in these humoured him so well by treating him often, that Schelicon seemed never so well plea­sed as with Anthonine, and could not well enjoy a moments rest without seeing him. The Vintage season was now come, and every one went to reap the pleasures of the Country: at that time Scheli­con desired Anthonine to go with him, this favoured his Love too much to be refused; so they went accordingly with Octavia to take the fresh Air in the Countrey: Anthonine was no sooner arrived thither, but he resolved to discover his Love to Octavia, and after hav­ing often failed in opportunity, one day, Schelicon being at dinner, he found her alone sitting down in the shade in a great Walk of Trees; he was not wanting in so [Page 41]fair an opportunity to discover his Love to her; but then uttered all the tender and passionate things can be imagined to proceed from a Heart wholly possessed with Love; What he then said had that effect on Octavia that she gave him reason to hope all that he desired: but he being of a hasty humour, would not stop here, he would know how far he might hope his happiness should extend; the knowledge he had of her avariti­ous Nature, put him upon wri­ting a Letter to her in these Terms.

Anthonine to Octavia.

I Should think my Love like that of a Novice, Madam, If to dis­cover my passion, I should tell you of Sighs, Languishments and sweet Di­stractions; [Page 42]my Love is more Mascu­line than to concern it self with these Childish Play-games; it loves solid Action, and is not in the least moved by the languishing looks of those Visio­nary Lovers, who tast only the plea­sure of being loved, by strength of Phancie: That Noble Fire which Love kindles in our hearts is not to be evaporated in languishing looks and tender sighs only, Nature hath given another vent to it much plea­santer and more convenient. When a Woman is loved by one of these weak Lovers, she must expect only Words, and the protestations of a Chimerical tenderness: It is treason with them but to name Money, and when any Female becomes Mercena­ry, they think her no longer fit to be beloved. As for me, I take another Course, and have not made Sighs my only Aim; my Purse is freely at your Service; and if you will but [Page 43]give me an hour towards night, you shall see my Stock, and know what I can do for you.

Anthonine.

She soon returned him this An­swer, slipping it into his Pocket whilst he was at play with her Husband.

ALthough I do not well under­stand the meaning of your Letter, yet I think there is some­thing in it very agreeable and ratio­nal; if you will take the trouble to ex­plain it to me after Supper, I will endeavour to find a way to discourse with you in private.

The Letter which Anthonine had written was so unfortunate, that after Octavia had read it, it fell out of her Pocket when she pull­ed [Page 44]out her Handkerchief, and was found in the middle of the Room by Schelicon, who read it over, and seemed to be vexed at it. Octavia who had searched every where for it, without being able to find it, and seeing such a Melancholy in his Looks, easily judged that it had fallen into his hands: so that she was forced to use the utmost of her cunning; she therefore comes near him, and stroaking his face with her hand; caressing and kissing him, she asks him the reason of his Melancholy, and without giving him time to answer, will you lay a wager (says she) that I will make you laugh, if I relate to you the pleasantest thing in the World which has lately happened unto me: I am much obliged to you Sir (added she with a scornful smile) to suffer your Friends to send me Letters full of Impertinencies: See [Page 45]says she, searching in her Pocket, pretending to look for this Letter of Anthonine's) what has been written to me, after this who can be trusted? Anthonine that Body of Death, that riveled and fearful face, that lean Skeleton, to speak to me of Love, and to endeavour to suborn my Vertue? You would never believe it; if the Letter I am going to let you have a sight of, were not an undeniable proof. After having said this, she search­es one Pocket, than the other, takes out every thing out of both, looks in her Gown, undoes her Train, and is impatient that she cannot find it. Upon which Schelicon's first suspicion being banished, he gives it to her without saying a word. What, says she, are you in the Conspiracy to laugh at me? and has he given you a Copy of? No, replied he, in a more gentle [Page 46]tone; It is the same you had lost, as I understand, and which I have found in this Room. Well, then says she, what say you to this? who would not have been cheated by this Hypocrite? who seems hard­ly to dare to look upon a Woman; If you will be ruled by me, to pu­nish his Insolence, we will bubble him. She then proposed a way to be diverted by him, which was for her to suffer his Addresses, to an­swer them obligingly enough, to gives rendezvouzes, to receive his money upon fine hopes, and thus to cheat him. Schelicon trusting entirely to her vertue, and to all that she had said, consented to whatsoever she desired, and to the end he might give them more li­berty to begin that very Night their new Game, he went out of the House after Supper, and walk­ed abroad alone. Anthonine per­ceiving [Page 47]this blessed opportunity, thought he had discovered the happy minute; so that going into Octavia's Bed-chamber, he found her lying upon the Bed, her Coats negligent & disorder'd, so great an effect had the seeing a Woman in this posture upon him, that he was dasht, and not able to ap­proach her. Am I so frightful (says she, to him, perceiving his ill tim'd Modesty) that you dare not endure the sight of me, and are you only brave, with a Pen in your hand? Near so much Beauty (re­plied Anthonine, coming to him­felf, and looking simply for his Purse) how am I stricken with Admiration? and can a man offer you so little money as I have, with­out some kind of trouble, to deserve those Favours, I hope to obtain from you? Lord! replied she, taking his Purse and looking sted­fastly [Page 48]upon it, how fine is the hair with which this Purse is made? are they yours? But what shall I do with it, added she? take it a­gain, I am not Mercenary: With these last words the Monk was so animated, that pulling up her coats with eagerness, he discovered her lovely Body naked: at the same time she puts up the Purse, not out of any ill design, having too good a Conscience to keep the mony without giving him the Mer­chandize; she shewed her Lover at this time, that she had a great share of Modesty, turning her face upon the Bolster, and shutting her eyes, pretending not to have the confidence to see her self in such a Posture in the Arms of any man but her Husband. Then it was that Anthonine took possession of what he so passionately wisht for, and after having took satisfaction [Page 49]for his Purse where with briskness then he came.

The Husband being returned, Octavia makes to him a false Con­fession of all that had passed, tells him of the Transports of Antho­nine, and calls him the Amorous Scheleton: confesses she had felt some kind of horrour to see her self alone with him; exaggerates the repulses she had given him, tells him she would never suffer him to kiss her hand, for fear a kiss from such a Satyr should raise a blister; shews him the Purse, swears to him he had given it to have one moment of Conversati­on with her: she shares the pro­fit with him; and by the relation she makes of the ridiculous man­ner, with which he presented it, makes Schelicon almost die with laughter: The good man laughs at the follies of a man, whose fool [Page 50]he really was. In fine, when she was in bed she embraced him more than ordinarily, to the end she might make him believe she drew water at no other Well but his.

As long as Anthonine had Mo­ney the Assignations were very frequent, and Schelicon used to go out of the Chamber and leave them together; but his Purse fail­ing, it was time for him to think of returning to Paris to seek a new supply. Schelicon and Octavia soon followed him; and Vintage being done, they came up to Town to pass the Winter there, and seek some other good fortune.

Octavia being at Paris thought it too little for her to be contented with her Monastick Ordinary, for change of meat quickens the Ap­petite. A certain Gentleman call­ed Caveceus, was the first who just­led Anthonine out of favour, she [Page 51]had too great a desire to tast of all conditions of men, not to receive a man of so good a Mine, and who came of one of the most Illustri­ous Families of that Place; she would have one tryal at least of him, let it cost her never so much, that she might mix Noble Blood with that of a Citizens: Such a good fortune was not to be refu­sed by her, for he is finely shaped and very tall, but somewhat too slender; has good legs well shaped, and his hair is fair, well curled and frized, his mouth well made, his eyes pleasant, a fine hand, his complexion is not very good, the Small Pox having left some marks; but as for his mind he is the most sincere of men, sweet, civil and ob­liging to all the World, he speaks very slowly, and has some difficul­ty in expressing himself: But if any will hearken to him, they will find [Page 52]him say every thing very well and with great sense; he pleases him­self extremely with Womens com­pany, and shews the Sex so great a respect, that he often by it becomes troublesome, and chiefly to Octa­via, whom he had almost made desperate in the first conversations he had with her; she who hates respect out of time, and who would have every one become fa­miliar immediately, was forced to endure him a long time without his so much as speaking to her of his Love, or daring so much as to touch her hand; he thought to have done a great deal, and took himself to be a rash Lover, if by chance he had fetched a sigh, or cast an amorous look in her pre­sence. From whence proceeds it, said she to him one day, (thereby to give him an opportunity to dis­cover himself to her) that you [Page 53]seem to me to be so pensive and disquieted, and that I phancy when ever I happen to observe you, you cannot be a moment without send­ing forth sighs? your languishing looks instruct me well enough, that your mind is wounded with some passion, tell me for God's sake I request it of you, (but without disguising any thing) what causes this disorder in you? I swear to you there is nothing in the World which I will not do to give you ease. To any other Person in the World besides your self, replied Caviceus (blushing and sixing his eyes upon the ground) I would ne­ver grant (Madam) what you re­quire of me; but since I have vowed to respect you, and to obey you as long as I live, I will open to you all my secrets, and in some par­ticulars should be extremely am­bitious of taking your Counsels. [Page 54]Know then Madam, a thing which I would never have told you, had you not commanded me, which is, that I love, and that with the greatest violence, the most lovely Person that ever appeared under the Heavens, but as my love is very great, my profound respect is also so extreme, that I never have dared to tell her I suffered for her, and that I have hitherto rather chosen to be unhappy, than indis­creet: Tell me then Madam, is it not time for me to speak at pre­sent? have not I acted by sighs on­ly, long enough? and may not I now make my complaints at the feet of her I love, of what torments she has made me endure? her hu­mour is sweet, her eyes tender and compassionate, her heart — What, interrupted Octavia, with Anger, thinking he had spoken of some body else; do you entertain [Page 55]me only with the Beauties of your Mistress; your nature must be strangely mischievous, or at least you very uncivil thus to praise her in my presence; if you had not per­fectly lost your wits, certainly you would not have done thus, Oh! I had very well foreseen Madam, con­tinued Caviceus, that your vertue was too severe to suffer the confes­sion I have now made of that strong passion I have for you; was it of me, replied Octavia (seem­ing strangely surprized) that you spoke? Let us disguise nothing, replied Caviceus, you have under­stood it too well for my happiness; well, if it be of me, replied Octa­via, you may continue your Dis­course, I will permit you; you go too much about, and speak with too much obscurity of a thing you would have known: Oh! Madam, replied he, if you did but know [Page 56]the purity of my desires, you would never disapprove of my Love, since it is wholly seperated from any thing of Crime; so that if you had less vertue you would seem less amiable to me. In fine he spent the rest of this conversa­tion only in exaggerating the in­nocency of his thoughts, although Octavia (if he had taken notice of what she said) required the con­trary of him, and that that was not the best quality she hoped for, in a Lover. Another time as she was with him, and being mighti­ly concerned, that notwithstand­ing all the advances she had made, there had no more passed betwixt them, she was now resolved to discover her thoughts to him up­on this matter so clearly, that he should be obliged indispensably to proceed further; when one loves said she to him (with an affected [Page 57]bashfulness) as much as you say, is one contented to do, so little as you do? Love then would re­ally have but very weak pleasures if it should proceed no further, and Persons who love might with rea­son complain to find themselves so ill recompenced for the torments they are made to suffer under Love's Dominion. Well then, if it be so, replied Caviceus, why are you so unsensible to the tenderness of a Heart which loves you so much? Alas! I know but too well your cruelty finds out this, to re­move me farther from you, and to force me not to love you, you pre­tend by this to repulse my passion; by representing to me the small gains I shall receive from it; but in fine, why do you blame me, since those weak pleasures it feeds me with, have no sensual founda­tion, and nothing criminal in [Page 58]them? What other Foundation can a true Lover have for his plea­sures, but the senses, replied she? the pleasures, says he, of thinking of his Love, of entertaining him­self with little pleasant disquiets, to think of the Person he loves, to cast towards her a thousand amo­rous Looks, to complain, to sigh, to languish and to weep: and do you call these (interrupted she) the pleasures of Love, truly you are a great Novice in it then, these are only the torments, and if you had a heart which were any ways touched with that passion, you would judge of the sweets of it, by the violence of the torments you speak of; I will let you know out of pity, where you will find the true and solid pleasures of Love: you can (replied he) Madam, by loving me, and by that will render me happy beyond comparison; [Page 59]As for what you now ask, you may be assured of, but—do not abuse and insult any more over (replied he, interrupting her very concernedly) the misfortunes of the miserable, since it is you alone causes it, and if you have not com­passion enough to give me ease, at least be not so cruel as to widen my wounds. They finished this Con­versation as well as the others without coming to any Conclusion, and Octavia very much incensed against her Gallant, was resolved another time to demonstrate to him what she could not before make him understand, but she not having the opportunity of seeing him often, her designs must have been delayed, had she not invented a way how to facilitate their com­merce, and receive him more easi­ly in her Chamber, which was to tell her Husband that if at any [Page 60]time she suffered him in her Com­pany, it was only out of Policy, he being a man of that Quality, and Great Interest at Court, that if there should happen to them a­ny misfortune, he would be able to do them great Service; she there­upon advised him to visit him of­ten, to endeavour to gain his friend­ship, and to accompany him in all his diversions, telling him it would be the greatest honour in the World for him, it being the only way to make him considerable in the World; He who never made use of any reason of his own, but suffered it to be always governed, followed her Counsel exactly, and was whole days with Caviceus, liv­ing continually at his Table, which was always better served than his own: Octavia's true thoughts were, that thus advising her Hus­band to invite Caviceus often, she [Page 61]should be able, (knowing his ob­liging humour, of giving her so often Presents) in the absence of her Husband to have him often with her in her Chamber, and might have the opportunity of passing many a pleasant moment with him in her Alcore without suspicion; All things succeeded to her liking better than she expected: for Ca­viceus being grateful for the fa­vours he had received from Scheli­con, made offer to him of a House of his to lodge in, which he accep­ted of freely enough, and that gave Octavia better means of succeed­ing in her designs; she comple­mented him often, and said very obliging things to him upon his good Meen, shewed him her Neck and Breasts naked, asking him what fault he found in them, not­withstanding all which her Linnen nor her Clothes were not any [Page 62]more rumpled or tumbled than at first; which transported her some­times to such a degree as to make her almost quarrel with him open­ly; she then shewed him a Song which blamed bashful Lovers for sighing, and tormenting them­selves for a thing when almost of­fer'd, they would not attempt get­ting possession of, but he read it no better than he understood it. In fine one day, wearied with all the advances she had made, she was resolved now to use the last reme­dy, and had recourse to demon­stration, to render that more sen­sible which she had a mind to dis­cover to him; she knowing he was to come into her Chamber, ac­cording to his Custom after din­ner, laid her self upon the Bed in her Cornet, with her Breasts naked, and her Petticoats so ill in order, that her Thighs [Page 63]might be seen; whilst she lay in this posture pretending to sleep, her Lover came alone into her Chamber (for she had given order none should give her notice of his coming, that he might find her thus) and seeing her in this unde­cent posture, blushed, and thought that by chance in her sleep her Petticoats had flown up, so that he to hinder her from being in the Disorder which, he thought, she would be in, if she awaked and found her self in this Condition before him, takes up her Handker­chief, and with the least noise he could for fear of waking her, co­vers her Breasts, and pulls down her Coats; in the same instant Octavia pretending to awake, push­es him back with violence, speak­ing thus to him, tell me perfidious fool, are these the Actions of a true Lover; ought not you to die with [Page 64]shame for your weakness? and does not it fill you with horrour, it being against the Order of Na­ture; I am (says he) it is true a Criminal, but it was Fortune cau­sed the Crime; if you could but know the Innocency of my Thoughts, you would without doubt have a better opinion of me, since you would find me not guil­ty of the least disorderly motion: It is that Knowledge, replied the Lady, which makes me so much an Enemy to you, and makes me detest your Person: Madam, (re­plied he, interrupting her) I con­jure you to believe that what I did was only to spare you the trouble which you must have had to have seen your self naked in my pre­sence; was it that way, answered she, that you ought to have cove­red it, and if you were but ratio­nal, you would find out a better [Page 65]way to excuse it. In fine, she said, all that could be said, on such an Occasion, leaving him in that Wrath, that he went from her with the greatest grief and sor­row imaginable: This resentment of Octavia did not last long; for Anthonine, came into her Cham­ber in the same instant that Cavi­ceus went out, and soon comforted her in performing for her what she had in vain expected from the other too Modest Lover; she spoke all the ill things imaginable of Ca­viceus, and assured him that she had never conceived so much An­tipathy against any Man, as against him, and that if her Husband had not commanded her to receive him, she would never have suffe­red him to come within her sight: after this, she set to work all the little engaging Endearments she could, which succeeded so well, [Page 66]that she got from him a very rich and pretty Suit of Knots: She took that day so much pleasure in re­ceiving Presents, that she was re­solved to ask of Caviceus all the fine things she had a mind to, since she could get nothing else out of him, although when he came again to visit her, he was received with all the accustomed kindness, as if nothing at all had happened; and the same day, seeing a Dia­mond Ring upon his Finger, she pretended to have a desire to buy it, and commended it so that he could not handsomely refuse giv­ing it to her. When he went abroad, she would always desire him to buy things for her, which were al­ways the best of the Kinds, he not being able to defend himself from executing her Orders, and as he was not kept within the narrow bounds of a small Pension, the least [Page 67]of his Presents was of greater va­lue than three of Anthonine's: It is true she would have been unjust to have complained of the Monk, since he gave her all he had, and that to content her he had endea­voured all he could to content her. But as one day Anthonine was a­lone with her, repeating that plea­sure which he valued dear as his life: Caviceus was at the door re­turned from the Exchange with an abundance of the most modish wearing things he could purchase for her; Octavia gave Anthonine only time to go out of the Cham­ber, and taking her Fann, she en­deavoured to abate the high co­lour which the Exercise she had just then used, had raised in her face. There could not be shewed more kindness to a man than she did in this Interview, and fearing lest by reason of the disturbance [Page 68]she seemed to be in, he might sus­pect something; she told him without asking, that Anthonine was just gone out; that her Hus­band was become jealous, and had desired Anthonine, as his Friend, to have always an eye over her, and to observe her conduct; after­wards in a pretended Confession, which she made to him, she assu­red him she had the greatest hor­rour in the World to be forced to be alone with such a man, and that yet she out of respect to her Husband had always suffered him to be in her company; Caviceus who believed all she had said to be true, began to offer her what he had then bought, and a­mongst the rest of the things, a Box set with Diamonds, wherein was his Picture; upon which Octavia taking the hand with which he presented it, kissing it [Page 69]with great transport, and cried out; Oh God, how obliging and generous you are? why am not I able to do something for you, in re­turn for these favours? Caviceus felt a certain sprightfulness in him­self stirred up by this freedom she had used, which emboldned him; he takes her hand and squeezes it between his, kisses it, fastens his mouth full of fire to one of her breasts, afterwards kisses her be­tween them, then looks up into her face with some remainder of Modesty, to know from her eyes whether his Actions pleased her, every thing flatters him, and he hears from her nothing but langui­shing and amorous sighs, he locks her in his Arms, and then fell ea­gerly to taste those Joys which he had so long desired, and forborn out of a foolish Modesty.

Octavia who had not dared say [Page 70]any thing for fear her Lover should have used some other un­seasonable respect, seeing he could not now draw back held this Discourse to him not without con­tinual Interruptions, pushing him softly back and raising him upon her Arms, seemed to be extreme­ly concerned, and uttered all those things we might expect from a cunning Girle (instructed by her Mother, and Aunt) on the Bridal Night, thereby to deceive the man into an opinion of his having obtained a Maidenhead. When she found Caviceus retreating, she fetching a great sigh from the bot­tom of her heart, and opening her Arms which she let fall negligent­ly upon the Bolster, rises from the Bed, and went to one side of the Chamber leaning her Head o­ver the Arms of a great Chair, her Hankerchief before her eyes, [Page 71]and pretending in this condition to fall out into Tears and Sobs, thereby the more to move Cavice­us, she spoke thus to him with the most to be compassionated Tone of Voice in the World: Have I lived thus long, only, to see my self shamefully in the Arms of any man besides my Husband? and must I after having lived hitherto with so much Honour, be brought to see my self the infamous Ob­ject of your Lust? did Heaven give you all those great Qualities, on­ly to seduce my Honour, and to disturb the innocent pleasures which a Citizen enjoyed with her Husband? Oh! miserable Crea­ture, that I am, why had not I ra­ther chosen to die with the greatest misery of pains, then to expose my self to those torments, which at present are tearing my Soul? can I ever after this Infamy, be able to [Page 72]look upon my Husband, and re­ceive his innocent and chast Kisses, without dying of grief, to see that I have defiled by my unchastness, the purity of our Embraces? she said many other things which did so sensibly move Caviceus, that I do not know whether he did not for a moment repent of the Action he had performed: he used all his skill in comforting her, exaggera­ting the great number of Women who took the same Liberty, assu­ring her that all the finest Women of that City had the same sweet sin to answer for: but as the plea­sure began to return, the counter­feit Grief ceased, and inviting her to renew the Work, she consented to it, saying to him, that it was on­ly the first time that was dear, all the rest costing nothing, and that she foresaw, she should never be a­ble to shake off the passion she had [Page 73]now conceived for him; In fine for a conclusion, she desiring to take advantage of the absence of her Husband obliged him to re­main that Night with her, but scarce was this agreed upon, be­fore her Husband came in; all that she could do, was to hide Caviceus in a Closet, and desires him not to be impatient, since his arrival should not hinder their Design, for he was accustomed after Sup­per to return to his Country house, a League from Orleans to lie there, not being able to dispense with it, because of some Domestick Affairs he had to dispatch there, but the thing happened far otherwise than he had said; for Schelicon being very weary, told her he could not return thither that Night, and that he comforted himself easily since he should more agreeably pass the Night with her. All that she [Page 74]could do was to steal from her Husband one moment, and to go and give notice of this to Caviceus, she cried out aloud to him from the door to be gone with the least noise he could, and without staying time enough to see him go, she returns to the Chamber where her Hus­band was, to busie him, that he might not take notice of the go­ing out of Caviceus. Anthonine, who far from being gone away, when Octavia thought he was, out of a jealous humour had slipped behind the Hangings near that door, to see what passed between her and Caviceus: finding so fine an opportunity to revenge him­self of them both, goes out of the Chamber and shuts that door at the same time as Caviceus went to open that of the Closet where he was: but he hearing the noise of that door, stayed there, for fear of [Page 75]being seen, thinking it to be Octavia, who having changed her resoluti­on, had then shut it: So he stayed till Night, and seeing his Mistress come into the Chamber with her Maid, he did not dare appear; he saw her undress her self from the Closet, and saw her go into Bed, after having ordered the Maid to put out the Candle; when she was thus gone into Bed alone he did not doubt but that her Hus­band was gone back to his Coun­try-house, and thought that he had nothing to do but to prepare himself to lie by her; but finding himself not to be in the true con­dition he ought to appear in, hav­ing exhausted himself in the day time, he tarried yet some time in the Closset repassing in his Ima­gination all the Objects which had before given him provocations, and feeling the first fore-runners of [Page 76]pleasure, he comes out, and ap­proaches her Bed, who sleeping al­ready, awaked at the least noise he made, and taking him for her Husband, having as she thought heard Caviceus go down, said to him, Lord! what have you been doing so long? why did you not come to Bed, Caviceus being migh­tily moved at these reproaches, without giving himself the time to answer, undresses himself and casts himself into her Arms, before she found her mistake. Schelicon hav­ing finished his Letters comes into the Chamber with a Candle, and drawing the Curtains of the Bed, sees Caviceus so advantagiously placed: I leave you to judge the amazement of all three; Octavia to find her Husband in two places, Caviceus to see him so near him, and Schelicon to see his Wife in the Arms of another. In fine, after [Page 77]this first surprisal, Caviceus was forced to compound; and the Arti­cles were, that he should give a good Sum of Money to Schelicon, and the Freedom of his Table, and that Sehelicon should let him have the use of the Place, of which he only reserved the Propriety. The Treaty is yet in force, and they live all three in the greatest Union imaginable.

FINIS.

THE HISTORY OF Madam Du Tillait, Written in a Letter to another Lady, who desired it of a Gen­tleman of her Acquaintance.

Madam,

SInce you were pleased to command me to give you an account of Madam du Til­lait, I shall obey and relate to you a small part of the History of her Life, for if I should endea­vour to give you the whole, it [Page 80]would take up the rest of mine.

Since I am ignorant whether you know her by sight, I shall here ad­joyn a description of her Person.

She is delicately shaped, and of a good stature, she has fine but blew Eyes, a very passable Complexion (especially for a French Woman) black hair, her Mouth not much too big, and her Teeth pretty even and white, all which toge­ther would make up a Woman of a very good Mine, and much to be admired, if it were not spoiled by an impudent Air, which does so raign in her Face, that by the first look one may guess her to be an absolute Messalina; as for her Inclinations they are sweet and free to that degree that she denies nothing that one can ask her, but thinks it a sin against Nature to deny what is requested of her [Page 81]with a good grace; in fine, Ma­dam, she has a thousand considera­ble Qualities which would infalli­bly have advanced her to the first rank of Women, if she had been either at the Courts of the King of Ethiopia, or of the Queen of A­ragon.

She was educated by her Grand-mother, Madam de la Houssay, in whose House she had no sooner come to the fifteenth year of her Age, but she fell desperately in love with one Chanteau, who has been dead now some time; he was not a Man of Quality indeed, but a very handsom Fellow, and had a great deal of Wit: This Lady be­ing at that time very pretty, he perceived with no small joy the good will she bore towards him, & profited so well of it that he soon obtained of her what ever he de­sired, but scarce was the Flower of [Page 82]this young Beauty gather'd, but the Fruit appeared, for in some time (notwithstanding all the tricks that were plai'd to hinder it) it came to perfection, about which time she found it necessary to pre­tend to her Grandmother that she would pass some few days with one of her Aunts a Nun at the Port Royal, under which pretence she went and liv'd at a Midwifes house in the Rue du Four at Paris, where she was brought to Bed of a Daughter, who was taken care of by Chanteau.

She was absent but four days, at the end of which she returned to her Grandmothers house, where she kept her Bed the full time, pretending to be sick of a Feaver, at which time (her Woman Mrs. du Plais) has told me, she protested solemnly she would never return to that sin she had been so sick in [Page 83]this Lying-Inn, by reason of he­tender Age; but scarce was she out of her Bed when she forgot all these Vows that were extorted from her by the violence of her pangs, and was with Child again, and was brought to Bed this second time at the same Midwifes house, but not so secretly as the first, for it is believed her Father knew it well, although he has always pre­tended himself ignorant of it, which was not very likely, considering his great hast of marrying her so soon after this second Slip, which he did to Monsieur le President du Tillait, who after having lived with her several years, and believed her a Vestal, found her in Bed with a Gentleman of the Court according to the notice that was given him by his Brother Mr. de la Cour des Bois, who was much incensed with her permitting any other to par­take [Page 84]of those favours she had af­forded him. The manner of her being surprized was thus: He having pretended to go into the Country, came home (contrary to her Expectation) at Night, and found the Gentleman with her, who was forced to run away in his Shirt, and leave his Clothes in the Ladies Chamber, since which her Husband has never seen her nor owned a Daughter of which his wife went from the time of this Ad­venture, for she was brought to Bed nine months after of her, who now is called (Madam du Plais) this Gen­tleman who was thus caught, and was then so much in Love with her has been so constant to her, since that he has had of her two Sons, one dead and the other who is now his Page, he always thinking him­self the only Person in her favour till he was disabused by this acci­dent, [Page 85]after which he found him­self far from being in the right, for then she had many others, since she has given up her self to all the World.

The manner of his discovering the Ladies having other Gallants, was thus: She had an old Maid called Richarde, that was the best in the World at entertaining Com­merce with a dozen Gallants for her Mistress at the same time, for she never spoke of one to the other, without making each of them be­lieve himself to be the sole fortu­nate Lover, but she had another who was not so secret, for upon some suspicion the Court Gentle­man had of the Abbot of Aumont, she readily confessed the truth that he lay with her Mistress, at the knowledge of which, and the sur­prising them once together by this Maids contrivance, he was so [Page 86]inraged, that he endeavour'd to run the Abbot through, who hav­ing put by the thrust, and closed upon him, gave the Lady time to call up help to part them, notwith­standing which the Abbot was hurt in the Face and Hand, but as soon as he was gone the Gentleman discharged his Anger upon the La­dy, and gave her so many blows with the flat of his Sword that she lay sick of it at least a Fortnight or three Weeks, during which time she was forced to keep her Bed; since this Affair the Gentle­man never cared for her, but broke with her wholly, notwithstanding all she could do to appease him.

After which the Lady having so well begun in her young years, was resolved to finish so, and aban­doned her self so up to Vice, that it was to the three States, the No­bility, Clergy and Commonality.

Some time after this she retired into the Hospital of the Charonne in the said Suburbs of Saint Ger­mane, because of some Creditors that prosecuted her very severely, thinking thereby to gain time to pay them.

While she was in this Covent she made an Acquaintance with a Father Jesuit, called Faverolles, who as I take it, was Director of Conscience to the Nuns of that Covent, whose ingenious Conver­sation was so pleasing to her, that she had many private Conferences mith him, in which the good Fa­ther found something in the Lady that made him hope to gain her Favour, which being no very diffi­cult thing, he soon came to the end of his Design, which he had no sooner acquainted her with, but she promised him satisfaction; so that there's nothing wanting now [Page 88]but opportunity he obtained so much of the Lady, that she disco­vered to him a Grate that she had in her Parlour, which came out when she pleased, which as soon as the Father heard, he made such use of it, that he would not stay any longer, but went through the Grate to the Ladies Chamber, who seemed not to be displeased at this Freedom, but agreed so well with him that they left the use of their Discourse, though not of their Enjoyment of their Pleasures, which they continued to take so long together, that she found her self with Child in a small time, of which being to be delivered, she made a Journey to Farmontier un­der pretence of seeing some Nuns of her Kindred there, where hav­ing been some time, she was brought to Bed of a Boy (which dyed since at Somiers, where he [Page 89]was at Nurse) whither, although it was very difficult for Father Fa­verolles to lie out of his Covent, He did not fail to go to visit Ma­dam du Tillait at the time of her lying in; from whence as soon as he had given order for the nursing of his little Jesuit, he came back to Paris, whither he was hardly come when he received an order from his Superiour to go to Ami­ens (for I know not what Affair) but however having heard there that Madam du Tillait was very ill, he left all the business of his order, and went to her, whom finding much better than he expected, and his business at Amiens not per­mitting him to be long absent, he returned thither the next after he had recommended her to the care to one Puard a Chyrurgion, who had brought her to Bed, and orde­red him to have a great care of [Page 90]her health, which he did to so good effect, that with that and his being a hansom Fellow, he got so far into her favour that he had care of her Pleasures as well as her Lying-Inn, in which he pleased her so, that now he was got into the Jesuits place in his absence, who when he came back (in four Months time, during which he could not possibly quit his busi­ness) found his Mistress with Child of Picard. It did not a little per­plex the Lady to find out how to discover the Truth to the good Fa­ther, but finding it must come out soon or late (he never leaving her) she resolved to break the Ice with­out delaying it further, which she thought it best to do in Confession to him, in which she told him all that happened between her and the Chyrurgion, but withal assu­red him that it was only to keep [Page 91]the thing secret, however this thing so troubled the Father that he had utterly broken with her, had he not known People of his Sort did not always meet with such good Fortunes, wherefore he thought it not convenient to lose this, and thereupon only made her some few reproaches, but she quickly shut his mouth, by telling him it was not just for him to reproach her for any thing she had told him under the Zeal of Confession: Some time after this they came together to Paris where the Father's Amour being known by the Jesuit, they checked him severely for it, and for the preventing any further communication betwixt them, they ordered him to go to Moulins, but instead of obeying their order he retired into Madam du Tillait's house, of which the Jesuit not be­ing informed were more than a [Page 92]year without knowing what was become of him, till at length they heard he kept house with his be­loved Lady, from whence they got an order from the King to have him brought home to them, which was accordingly executed by an Exempt of the King's Guards, who found him at Madam du Tillait's house in Bed with her at six of the Clock in the Morning, from whence not having any Clothes on, he was carried immediatly to the Jesuit, who to punish his open and immodest behaviour, put him in Pace (i. e.) into their Dungeon for six Months, during which time the Lady made a shift to consolate her self with abundance of Abbots, who were in Love with her, a­mongst whom there were the Ab­bot Fournier Foreas de Treville du Four, and many others of her Acquaintance, which would take [Page 93]up too much time to name them, came in such Numbers that her who house seemed to be the Con­cation House of the Clergy.

As soon as Father Faverolles was out of Prison he left the Jesuit, and being retired into some Cor­ner out of the Jesuits Knowledge, he obtained by the Interest of some Persons of Quality a Dispensation for leaving the Jesuit Habit, and becoming a Secular Priest.

Some time before this he got in­to Madam du Tillait's Favour a­gain, at whose house there happe­ned to him a very pleasant Adven­ture with Abbot Fournier, who then held the first place in the La­dies affections, for after having lived there in secret near a Month, he was forced to retire, which hap­pened thus, the Ladies Woman had at last discovered to the Abbot that he was in the house and promised [Page 94]him to bring him where he should find them together, and so he might by threatning the Father, which out of the fear of being caught there the second time might make quitt the Ladies Company, in order to which Design she hid him in her Chamber, and told him that her Lady and she always kept a Dish of their Supper, and carried it to the Father whilst the Servants were at Supper below, she bad him also be sure, (as soon as he should see a Candle pass by such a stair-case where the Father's Cham­ber was) to come at the same time to the Door, where as soon as he should knock she would go to the Door, making her Mistress believe she thought it to be another Maid of the House, that knew of the Fa­ther's being in the house; in fine, they ordered their Intrigue so well, that it fell out as they desired.

For the Lady being come home, but at Eleven of the Clock the Fa­ther's Supper was not carried to him past Eleven, where as soon as the Lady and her Maid was with him, the Abbot comes up to them and knocks at the Door, and the Maid opens it to him, who came in and immediately asked Father Fa­verolles how he dared be so bold as to be at Madam duTillait's house af­ter he had bin fetched from thence by the King's Express Command, to which the good Father Jesuit being not of a very patient temper, answered somewhat angryly, tell­ing him, that was not his business, and therefore he needed not con­cern himself any further in it; but the Lady doubting they would come (as it seems they did) to blows, desired them both to make no more noise in her house, saying to the Abbot, that as for him she [Page 96]had a better opinion of his Wis­dom than to believe he would make any disorder in her house, and as for the good Father, she doth not doubt but that he being of the Society of Jesus, will have so much patience as to let the Affair pass without any noise, but not­withstanding all his precaution and desire of the Lady, the Father bad the Abbot go out of the Room immediately, at which the Abbot making sport, he took a Dish which the Lady had brought him wherein there was a Fricassee boyling hot and made the Abbot a Mask with it, in which moment the Abbot also took up an Ewer and flung it at his head, after which they fell upon one another and made so much noise in the Fray, that some feuillant Monks (of whom Madam du Tallait ren­ted her house) that were saying [Page 97]Mattins, hearing all this bustle through their Church Windows, which look into her Court, thought there were Thieves in the House, so that the Father Procurator of the Covent, who was booted and spurred, ready to go to look after some business at a Country House belonging to the Covent, was sent to her aid and went straight up to the Chamber where he heard the Noise, with some of her Servants that he had told the reason of his coming thither (they having heard nothing of the noise before) where having knocked at the door as hard as he could, and no body answe­ring, he was confirmed in his opini­on that they were Thieves, and that they had killed the Lady, upon which he and the servants resolved to break it open, which the Lady perceiving, thinking she must at last open it, resolved to let it be [Page 98]half open to the Monk (which was better than to be seen with Father Faverolles by all her servants) which she did, but withal com­manding her servants to be gone, and let the Monk come in alone, which she hoped might make an agreement betwixt these two an­gry Lovers, which accordingly he did, so that they both agreed, but it was in falling out with and vent­ing all their anger upon the Lady, reproaching her with her ill Life, and other things of that nature, but at length being all agreed, they all three desired the Fevillant Monk to be silent and not to disco­ver this adventure, but he being de­sirous to gain by this occasion, told them that the only means for them to be assured of his keeping their Secret, was for him to be in a con­dition that should also need their keeping a Secret for him, by which [Page 99]he made them understand, and by other good Reasons that he would not retire from thence upon any other conditions than enjoying Madam du Tillait, which the two o­ther Lovers at length granted, and went out of the Chamber leaving the Monk with the Lady booted as he was, who not being used to such favourable opportunities made very good use of this.

The next morning after this af­fair Father Faverolles left Madam du Tillait's House for fear the Ab­bot should inform the Jesuit of his being there, and thereby once more be put in Pace, but the Lady not being willing to be far off from a man that had so many good amo­rous Qualities, as Faverolles had, took a Chamber at a Surgeon's House over against the Sorbon, where she seldom let a day slip without visiting him, which Ab­bot [Page 100] Fournier (who I think was born to be a Scourge to Faverolles) knowing by the Ladies Woman, who said her Lady went every day to that Chyrurgeon's House, but she did not know to whom it was she gave the Visit, for she was always sent back with the Coach home, how ever this soon made him think it to be Faverolles, but that he might be certain of it, he resolved to watch at the Chyrur­geon's Door, which he did one day when the Woman told him her Lady was there, where having staid some time he espied two little Dogs which Madam du Til­lait carries always with her, which he immediately followed up stairs to the Chamber door where their Mistress was (after having done what he could to catch the Dogs before) but he being disguised in a grey Cloak they did not know [Page 101]him) whither as soon as he came one of the Dogs scratched at the Door, upon which the Abbot caught him up, and hearkned at the Door, in which moment the Lady having-heard her Dog scratch, came to open the Door, which as soon as she had done the Abbot stept in and told her he having found her Dogs in the Street, had endeavoured to catch them, but they running away from him he had followed them that they might not be lost, but withal that he was very sorry he had followed them so far as to interrupt her Enter­tainment.

Notwithstanding all these pre­tences the Father thinking he had done all this to catch him, imme­diately gave him a box on the car, after which there being no body to part them, they fought so heartily that they were forced both at last [Page 102]to make use of the Man of the House who was a Chyrurgeon.

The Abbot threatned the Father so much this time also that he was forced to leave the Town for fear of further discovery, and take a House at Isey a Village near Paris, where the Lady visited him very often, though not without enter­taining at the same time many o­ther Gallants, amongst whom there was one Mr. L' Avocat, a Fellow that has neither Wit nor breeding, but yet a Master of Re­quests of the King's Houshold, was Chief, as being one of the greatest Fops she could induce to love her, yet having got some money from him, and a pair of white Flanders Coach-Horses, he had the first place in her affections, next him was Guerin her Steward, who had a great share of her Favours, and often of her Bed, where being [Page 103]one Night, there happened a plea­sant adventure, which was, that three Rivals should meet at a time when it was almost impossible they should see one another, in order to the unfolding of which you must know Madam that L' Avocat had for Confident one of the Ladies Foot-men, and Abbot Fournier one of her Maids.

The Lady not being displeased at their catching her, agreeably continues in Bed, they often hid themselves somewhere till she was in Bed, and then came to her which the Abbot doing once in her Maids Chamber, and L' Avocate in the Foot-mans, and the Lady happe­ning to have that Night Guerin in her Bed who having been in Bed sometime, those Lovers also that were hid came into her Chamber each of them thinking to be the only one there, but both coming [Page 104]in at the same time, she bad the Steward hide himself under the Bed, and asked who was there, to which L' Avocate said, it is I Ma­dam, who come to pass a quarter of an hours time with you, to which she answered, truly Sir, it is too late now, not too late, Madam, replied the Abbot, for it has but just now struck twelve of the Clock; truly, Sir, replied the La­dy, I took you for L' Avocate, and so it is truly, said L' Avocate, on the other side of the Bed, who then came to the Bed-side, and flung him­self upon the Bed, so as to meet the Abbot (that was by this time got to the other side of the Bed) and took him by the hand, whom he asked, when they knew one ano­ther, why he that might come at any time to the Lady, being so near a Neighbour, should come at that time of the Night, to which the [Page 105]Abbot, answered very angrily that he wondered how he should come thither from his House at the other end of Paris so late at night, after which they gave one the other ve­ry ill Language, which had come to blows, if they had had any mind to fight, or if the Lady had not promised to give them all ima­ginable satisfaction, which agreed upon at last amongst them thus that L' Avocate being farthest off his Lodgings should be the first two hours with the Lady, after which the Abbot should come, and that in the mean time the Abbot should retire into another of the Ladies Chambers. These two being satisfi­ed there remained only poor Guerin unsatisfied, who was very ill lodg­ed under the Bed in his shirt with­out hopes of getting any thing by the Treaty till the Abbot had done with the Lady whom he left at six [Page 106]in the Morning, and gave him his place in the Ladies Bed, where he took his full revenge of them, which was not unwelcome to the Lady; in fine, Loves feast was ne­ver better solemnized in this world than this night by three Lovers, who all went away with so great a satisfaction, that they had not the least Jealousie or Malice left them.

Here, Madam, I must beg your leave to finish this small account of Madam du Tillait, wherein you will be pleased to believe there is nothing of Falshood, since I assure you I know of Faverolles (who is now my very good Friend, and is since fallen out with the Lady) all that happened between him and the Lady whereof I have re­trenched the greatest part, as not being fit for your Ears. As to Chanteau's affairs, I knew it from [Page 107]the Ladies Woman, who was then with her; and as for that of the Court Gentlemans, it made so great a Noise in the World, that I be­lieve it is unknown to very few.

As for that of her Steward, it was related to me by himself since he came from her, in a Month after which, he was found assassinated at the Port Saint Jacques, but by whom it is not yet known.

Since it pleased you, Madam, to desire me to disguise nothing in this Relation, I hope you will not be displeased at the too great Li­berty I have taken, and that you will believe as a great truth, that I esteem nothing so much in this World as your Self, and all things that have any relation to you.

FINIS.

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