THE Sun had newly past the vernal Aequinox, the Earth breath'd Sweets, the Air was mild and temperate, the Face of Heaven smil'd, and all the World look'd gay and youthful, when a King of Spain (whose Name History mentions not) accepting readily the tempting invi­tation of that charming season, re­solv'd to take the Country-Air, and please himself with those divertise­ments a short recess from Madrid fairly promis'd him. He was a Prince fam'd for Gallantry and Magnifi­cence; and of his Courtiers who could pretend to either, there was [Page 2]not one he took not with him to Aranjues; where, besides the plea­sure they frequently took in Hunt­ing, they were entertain'd with Balls and Dances, Opera's, Races, Tournaments, and other rare diver­tisements, wherein the Lords and Grandees of his Court wholly ap­ply'd themselves to excel each o­ther.

Aranjues is a House of pleasure, seated most deliciously, distant from Madrid a short days journey between that City and Toledo, well built and neatly furnish'd; but neither Furniture too rich, nor Building too Magnifi­gent for a Palace-Royal and Residence of Majesty. The curious, who tra­vel as far as Madrid, never forget to take a turn to Aranjues to view the Walks and Gardens there, as worth their sight; where the Bowers, the Water-works, the Grottes, the Foun­tains, Labyrinths, and other Orna­ments entertain them with a plea­sing [Page 3]verdure; and by the joint fa­vours of Art and Nature appears a charming Beauty. To compleat all, what can more delight the Eye than the fair Rows of Trees there of a pro­digious height, in a Country which, for twenty Leagues about, scarce produces those of ordinary growth?

The King took more delight in that house (as fitted more for Liber­ty) than his Palaces of Prad [...] del Campo, and the Buen Retiro, standing hard-by the Gates of Madrid. The splendor he lived in there was attra­ctive enough to bring thither all the Nobles of his Kingdom, had they wanted inclination to follow him where e're he went: But he was a Prince who, to the height of State and Power, added so many charm­ing qualities of personal Excellency, 'twas difficult to judge whether his Subjects love, or duty to him were the greater.

Never was Reign happier than [Page 4]his. He was a comely Person, hand­som and witty to admiration; Young, tall, nimble, and capable of all that's brave, or great; of noble inclinati­ons, worthy the Crown he wore. Those leisure-hours his glory and cares of State allow'd him, he be­stow'd in Love and Gallantry: and no Man ever acquitted himself bet­ter, and came off with more ap­plause.

The Spaniards have in all Ages been observed much inclin'd to jea­lousie: the Women there are slaves to that passion, before they know what 'tis to love. Hence it is they are such early Lovers: 'tis natural, especially for Women, to long for that which is forbidden them. Re­volt is with them a certain effect of Restraint: and a Husband jea­lous (though of the most honest Wife on Earth,) is upon the point of being made what he most fears to be.

In this King's time, the Court of Spain had put on a new Face, the course of things, at least in matters of gallantry, was wholly alter'd, and Maxims introduc'd (quite contrary to those formerly in vogue, but) in favour of the Gallants: And their Party being strongest, the jealous were forced to slacken a little the ri­gor and strictness of Ancient Customs to make way for New. The Ladies had free access to all entertainments, and needed not those subtil Intrigues, and Multitude of Confidents they formerly us'd to carry on their A­mours; the Races, the Walks and the Plays, were the ordinary Rendezvous to make and appoint, and sometimes to compleat and perform Assigna­tions.

What a brave time was this for the Spanish Ladies! they think of it to this day with sorrow 'tis past: and declare with indignation that the Name of this King, which those [Page 6]of his time suffer'd to be bury'd in oblivion, deserv'd to have been en­graved in Letters of Gold over the Chamber-Doors of all the gallant Ladies of his Court, and transmit­ted to Posterity to be had in perpetu­al Veneration.

Amidst the pleasures of Aranjues, Love, jealous perhaps to see this Prince so long free, and not sensible of the power of his influence, resolved to find him imployment by engaging him in an Amour the more difficult to manage, as having in it no pre­tence from Ambition or Fortune to countenance the pursuit: And the truth is, it gave him more trouble than an hundred others he had been engag'd in. This was not an Amour with the Daughter, or Wife of any Grandee of his Kingdom: He had already past through all the Degrees of his Nobility; not a Lord in his Court, but by a Wife, a Daughter, or a Kinswoman was related to the [Page 7]King. But the present Engagement was more extraordinary, as very re­mote from any thing of Pomp, or of Grandeur. 'Twas in a Garden, from among the Roses and Lilles, Love pick'd out a Beauty to charm the King: a Beauty to which Aran­jues gave Birth.

Among the Courtiers (who made it their business to find every day some new divertisement for the King) one resolv'd to entertain him with a Shepherd who play'd excel­lently on the Flute. The King, a great Lover of Musick, (especially on those Country-Instruments) took extreme delight in hearing him play.

And finding that the Shepherd, besides his skill in Musick, had in all his actions an Air and Grace free from any clownishness, he was so taken with him, that he admitted him of his Musick, and gave him (as the rest) a Pension of two hundred Pata­coons a year.

This generous bounty of the King had put another Shepherd into a transport of joy, but was received by Antonine with a calmness and mo­deration which astonisht that Prince, and forc'd him, after a stricter exami­nation of his Shepherd, now his new Musician, to say, the Body of that plain Shepherd lodg'd a large and noble Soul. Some Lords taking no­tice of the pleasure the King took in viewing him, (though they did not comprehend his thoughts of him) told the King, that to perfect the di­vertisement, he must see dance to the Flute, the Gardiner's Daughter of Aranjues, the prettiest Maid of all the Neighbourhood: The King im­mediately long'd to see her, and com­manded she should come before him.

She came drest like a Nymph: and Antonine scarce began to play on his Flute, but she fell a-dancing; and with that grace, that cadence, those gestures so proper and so ta­king, [Page 9]that she charm'd the whole Court. She was a Girl about fifteen years of age, having alittle of the Country Meen, and Air, but nothing rustick, and a very pleasing Face.

The King (none of the most in­sensible) first felt the force of her charms; every step she made, each gesture, every action of the little Country-Lass were so many Magick Spells to inchant this Prince. He felt his heart seiz'd with an unac­countable sudden joy, as she drew near him in dancing, or look'd upon him; and 'twas not in his power to forbear, once or twice, discovering his Passion by Exclamations the whole Court took notice of.

This was the only pleasure he took all that day; apleasure that troubled all the rest they would have diverted him with at Aranjues. The little Maid was scarce withdrawn with the Shepherd, but the King fell into a deep melancholy, which put him [Page 10]wholly out of humour. He had ob­serv'd a familiarity betwixt 'em, which, though usual among Coun­try-People, seem'd to trouble him though he knew not why. The La­dies he had most esteem for endea­vour'd to divert him, but in vain; for he spent the rest of the day in walking alone, to enjoy the pleasure of his new Idea's.

He was restless all night, and could not sleep, he thought a thousand times of the little Country-Girl, and indeed could think of nothing else; he fancy'd her so beautiful and char­ming, so innocent, so Country-like, that his imaginations finish'd the work Love had but begun.

The Sun had scarce appear'd in his Chamber, but he got up; and being drest, went a walking in the Gar­den, where he sent for the Shepherd to furnish himself with a pretence for seeing the Girl, whom he pre­sently gave order for. Antonine [Page 11]play'd on the Flute, the Girl danced the king charmed anew with new graces he fancy'd he discover'd every moment in her, was more and more affected, and, in a word, deeply in love with her. No sooner had this Passion taken possession of his heart, but his jealousie of the Shepherd in­creas'd. He saw the Girl smile on him, and observ'd a tenderness ex­prest in every look she gave him; and that she took pleasure in speak­ing to him: and that the Shepherd discover'd some little complaisances of a Lover, both when he play'd, and when he came near her, which, convinc'd the King there was be­tween them a correspondence of af­fection. This vext the King at heart, and the more because his passion was so new he durst not yet reveal it: At last, unable to endure the tor­ment of his own impatience, and un­willing to be longer witness of the Shepherd's happiness to which he [Page 12]thought himself contributary, he sent away the Gardiner's Daughter, but kept the Shepherd with him. He continued walking without speaking a word to any but Don Augustin, Marquess de Las Tarrillas his Confident and Favourite, to whom he reveal'd the secret of his affecti­on, with expressions and sighs which sufficiently evidenc'd he had never been so deep in Love. The Mar­quess having observ'd the King had till then been taken only with Beau­ties eminent for Birth and Merit, was surpris'd to see him on the sudden fall so low. He was a dextrous Courtier, a great Master of the Art of pleasing Princes; but in spight of all his policy and complaisance for his King, he could not forbear telling him (with that liberty which brought him into favour) that an Engagement, that so ill became his Quality and Character, would occasion much discourse in a Country naturally too [Page 13]satyrical: ‘There are, Sir, adds he, in your Court more accomplish'd Beau­ties, more Noble and Illustrious, whose charms will not stain the splendor of your affection.’ ‘Yes, replys the King, there are Beau­ties who love my Quality, not me; whose kindness terminates in themselves, who pretend a passion for me, only to serve their inte­rest, and raise their fortunes. Who consent to my desires out of hopes to be advanc'd by the affection of a King: Take these hopes away, and assure your self of a repulse. Ah, Don Augustin, 'tis a misery for a delicate and tender Lover not to know whether he ows his Con­quests to Merit, or to Fortune; or at least whether they are not gain'd more by what appears without, than what moves within.’ ‘But, Sir, said Don Augustin, consider 'tis a Gardiner's Daughter.’ ‘Yes, a Gardiner's Daughter, replys the [Page 14]King; and pray, adds he in some heat, what were such and such, before I made them what they are? And how many Grandees are there this day at Court who owe their rise to Love; and had it not been for the gallantries of my Ancestors, had perhaps been less than the Fa­ther of this charming Maid. Con­sider with your self what pleasure it will be to me to gain the love of that innocent Girl, who peradven­ture knows not what Love is, till I teach her; who desires not Riches or Titles; whose kindness will be an effect of my passion, and her affection a Creature of mine.’

Don Augustin finding by this di­scourse 'twould be in vain to endea­vour diverting the King from a pas­sion he had so deeply espous'd, ap­ply'd himself wholly (as is usual with those of his Character) to please him in serving his passion, and preserve himself the honour of his Confi­dence; [Page 15]telling him, he needed only to have the Gardiner spoken to, who would think himself too much ho­noured that his Majesty should vouchsafe his Daughter a look. ‘Yes, replys the King; and should the Father be for me and deliver me his Daughter, think you that Sacrifice would satisfie my passion? No, no, Don Augustin; the passi­on I have for that amiable Crea­ture is not such as you imagine, which a bare fruition may satisfie, I must have her affection, or no­thing, and cannot expect any rest till I have gained her heart. I con­fess the Enterprize appears diffi­cult to take a Place by formal At­taques, where Art, Wit, and per­haps Merit will be useless: but this, if I succeed, will render the Conquest more worthy my affecti­on, and heighten the pleasure of having obtain'd my desire. You speak of Beauty, adds he, having [Page 16]walked some paces without saying a word, is there any thing so pret­ty in all the Court? and had you observ'd her stature, her parts, her meen, the grace attends all she says, all she does, durst you have told me there is any thing so charming in the World? Exa­mine her better, view her more strictly, and you will see there is not a finer Girl under Heaven. She has not the breeding of our Ladies, but is that a fault? is not pure Na­ture more amiable?’

After a discourse so full of Argu­ments of Love, which the Marquess thought not fit to contradict, the King asked who the Gardiner was, and whom the Shepherd belong'd to. The Marquess being ignorant of both, could not give any satisfactory account; but had order to inform himself particularly where the Gar­diner dwelt, what Family he had, and how descended; and to take it [Page 17]into his special protection and care: and to enquire who the Shepherd was, and whether he visited the Gar­diner's Daughter.

A Master is never served with more cheerfulness than in his A­mours, as the best Scene for the Ser­vant to play his own Game in, espe­cially having hopes effectually to an­swer the Master's expectation, as Don Augustin had. He sent that ve­ry day in search of Dorothy's Father, and after several discourses about his Family, let him know he was in a fair way to come to as good fortune as a Man of his condition could wish. He ask'd him if he knew Antonine; and was fully inform'd by the Gardi­ner concerning that Shepherd: then he bid him have a care of his Daugh­ter, whom he was to look upon as the Author of his good fortune, with­out giving further light whether the Marquess, or any other were con­cern'd in the advice. This was so [Page 18]managed by order from the King: And the Expressions (like infallible Oracles) coming from the Mouth of the Marquess de las Torrillas, whose Countenance was sufficient to raise the fortune of the greatest Subject of Spain, so transported the Good Man that he knew not how to make his acknowledgment for joy. The Mar­quess, to make good his words by suitable effects, put into his hand a Purse of an hundred Pistols, the most certain confirmation he could possibly have given the Gardiner of the News he had told him. He re­turn'd home, so fully assur'd by what he had in his hand, of the favourable influence of his Stars, that he thought himself the happiest, if not the rich­est Man upon Earth.

The Favourite having executed his Commission, like a worthy Con­fident, goes to give his Master an account; and acquainting him with the Particulars of the Gardiner's Fa­mily, [Page 19]told him, he was fully in­form'd he was a very honest Man, who lived very privately, not admit­ting into his House any one might bring a scandal upon him: And that his Daughter Dorothy had the Repu­tation of a Maid so free from intrigue that she had never been suspected to have been engag'd in one. ‘And what of Antonine, says the King?’ ‘An­tonine, Sir, says the Marquess, is the Son of a rich Shepherd near Tolledo, who was recommended to the Gar­diner, and lodges at his House.’ ‘Antonine, replys the King sighing, doth he Lodge at Dorothy's Fa­ther's?’ ‘Yes, Sir, said the Mar­quess, very much surpriz'd to see how the King received the News of it; but I believe there's no cause to fear him.’ ‘More cause, replys the King, more a great deal than you think.’ ‘What, a Shep­herd, answers the Marquess?’ ‘Yes, a Shepherd, says the King; [Page 20]a Shepherd who hath all the good qualities requisite to gain the love of a Shepherdess. Had you view'd him with the Eyes of a Lover, you would have quickly discovered what 'tis to be such a Shepherd. Don Augustin, adds he, no Rival is contemptible; to slight him, is to lose all.’ ‘But, Sir, says the Marquess, you are his Master, and may rid your hands of him when you please: These sort of Lovers have not so strong inclinations as we. Give him but a better Em­ployment in another place than he hath here, he'll yield up his Shep­herdess to you, and quit all his pre­tensions to her.’ ‘You think so, replys the King, but I do not. But should I comply with my affection in taking your advice, what will the World say of my removing the Shepherd after the favour I have shew'd him? will they not say I have banish'd him? And the Wits, [Page 21]who claim a soveraign jurisdiction to censure all actions, when they see me court this Girl; will they not say presently, I was jealous of Antonine? No, no, I am con­cern'd in Reputation to let him stay with her at the peril of having my passion made publick by removal of him: if he be a profest Lover of her, 'tis my part to endeavour gain­ing her from him. But I must first know how far he is advanc'd, whe­ther she is pleas'd with his addres­ses, or barely permits them, or loves him in good earnest. These Mysteries are never well discover­ed, but by those who have been in Love; a meer Confident cannot penetrate them: Therefore get two Suits made me after the Coun­try-Fashion; and let them be brought me to-morrow at my ri­sing: I will go in Person to the Gardiner's, to observe Dorothy and Antonine.’

Any Man but the Marquess would have boggled, and been scandaliz'd at a design so contrary to the Spanish Gravity, and unsuitable to Majesty; but he was so well acquainted with the Gallantries of his Prince, and so verst in the management of them for the King, who loved adventures and disguises, that he was ready to fall a laughing at the Frolick: but re­flecting they had no acquaintance, nor correspondence at the Gardiner's, he apprehended some mischance which might be laid to his charge. He represented it to the King as he carried him the Habits on the Mor­row, telling him he expos'd the Ma­jesty of his Person to affront, by ad­venturing disguis'd into a Man's House he was not acquainted with. The King who lov'd not to be cross'd, made him a short answer, that in matters of Love he expected from a Person of his Character a great deal of Complaisance, but no [Page 23]Counsel; and that the advice he commonly took in those Cases, was only such as his affection suggested him. He put on one of those Suits, and the Marquess having taken the other, they went down a privy Stair which brought them to a Walk in the Garden; where they were no sooner entred, but they saw Dorothy picking Flowers. The jealous Prince, ravish'd with joy, made signs to Don Augustin to follow him with­out noise; and went with him into the Muses Bower, at the corner of the Walk, where they hid themselves from her. ‘Tis an excellent op­portunity, says the King to his Con­fident, we must follow her to see who the Nosegay is made for.’

The patience of the Monarch, on this occasion, was admirable; but must be considered as an effect of his Love. At last Dorothy goes out, taking the way of the Long Walks, to the asto­nishment of the Parties concern'd, [Page 24]especially the Amorous Prince, who more curious than ever to know whither she went, follow'd her with no small perplexity and agitation of heart. It was not long but he might guess at her design; for they were scarce past the second Walk but they heard Antonine's Flute, which the King thought not half so sweet then as formerly. He looked twice or thrice on Don Augustin without say­ing a word; but not able to con­ceal his jealousie longer, ‘You see now, says he, whether I have not reason enough to fear this Rival. Ah, Don Augustin, my Curiosity is like to cost me dear: but 'tis no matter, let's go and see all.’ They went beside the Walks to avoid be­ing seen by her: at last they saw Do­rothy making up to Antonine, and presenting him with the Nosegay; which the Shepherd receiving with actions full of Love, and of Joy, took her by the hand, which she permit­ted [Page 25]him to kiss; a great Favour in Spain, and signifies something more. This vext the Jealous King at the heart, to that degree of Impatience he was just making up to them. But Dorothy having not stay'd a moment longer with the Shepherd, the King advanced no further, but returned towards the Palace.

He was pensive and melancholy, and past those shady Walks musing of the happiness of a Shepherd, which a King was forced to envy. He ac­quainted the Marquess with his thoughts; the Marquess told him, the best way to quiet his Spirits was to send away the Shepherd. ‘But who can assure me, replies the King, that by removing him from Doro­thy's Person, I shall remove him from her affection. A months ab­sence, Sir, says the Marquess, will assure you of it. Absence, an­swers the King, too frequently strengthens affection; and I am not [Page 26]now to learn opposition heightens Love. But I am content for the pleasure of the Experiment, to try the means you propose. Give him a Place at Buen Retiro, and let him be sent away this day.’

Don Austin undertook the busi­ness. And having put off his Dis­guise, went about Antonine's Com­mission, which was presently dis­patch'd. The Office they gave him was to be Porter of his Majesty's Pa­lace of Buen Retiro, as the most pro­per for a young Man of his Chara­cter. They who carried him the or­der for it, made him understand it as an effect of the King's Bounty to him; though he did not take it so, but answered those who congratula­ted his good Fortune, that ‘He knew not what belonged to being a Por­ter, that the King might honour an­other with the Imployment, who might deserve and perform it bet­ter. As for him, he had kept sheep [Page 27]all his Life, and would do nothing else.’ They prest him however to undertake the Imploy; but the King having ordered no violence should be offered him, and the Shepherd having desired to speak with the King be­fore he should be sent away, they let him go.

The Shepherd went to the King, fell down at his feet, and with all hu­mility begg'd of him not to over­load and oppress him with his Boun­ties, but permit him to continue (as he had found him) a Shepherd; and not force him to quit a Condition he had devoted his Life to, and preser­red before all others, assuring His Majesty he was content, he was satis­fied with what he had, and envy'd no Man. The King as soon as he perceiv'd Antonine come towards him, fell a-laughing; but when he heard him speak, he sigh'd; not for Jealousie, but for very trouble it was not in his power to be so happy as the [Page 28]Shepherd. How happy, thinks he, is this Shepherd, to have all the de­sires either of Love or Fortune? As he made these Reflections, he view'd him from top to toe. And admiring a young Man of that Condition should have sentiments so extraordinary, he had judged him to be quite other than he appear'd, but that he lookt upon't as (an effect though) a Mi­racle of Love. This Prince had a Soul too Noble and Generous, not to make his Jealousie vail to the me­rit of Antonine; so that he could not prevail with himself to send him away. He called for Dorothy, and the better to penetrate the secrets of her heart, told her, She might now take her Leave of Antonine, for he was sending him away to Buen Retiro, where he had business for him, and had given him a good Imployment. The poor Innocent was thunder­struck at this; her Blood flush'd into her face to compleat the Embellish­ment [Page 29]of the most Charming Beauty on Earth: She suddenly made an­swer, She was sure Antonine would not accept of the Employment, be­cause he had promis'd her he would die rather than part with her. ‘But I would have him go thither, re­plyes the King; it will be his ad­vantage, and the making of his For­tune; And will you be against it?’ ‘No, Sir, sayes she; but I humbly beseech your Majesty to command my Father to let me go along with him to look to the Garden there.’ ‘You love the Shepherd then I see, sayes the King:’ And Dorothy making him no answer, he rose; and not able to endure longer so tormenting a Di­logue, left her with Antonine. The Marquess (who was present there) follow'd the King, admiring no less the patience of his Prince, than charm'd at the passion of the two Countrey-Lovers. ‘Well, Don Austin, sayes the King to him, when they [Page 30]got a little out of the Crowd, was ever Lover so unfortunate as I? Here is a Rival, and a Rival belov'd. I must of necessity either conquer my passion, or send him packing. Yet such is my weak­ness, I cannot do the one or the o­ther.’ The Favourite complying with the humor of his Master, an­swered, 'Twas in truth something rare to see a Prince in Love (as he was) express so much Goodness and Favour for a Shepherd, who stood in his way, and might cross his De­signs: But that sometimes particu­lar Engagements require particular Conduct. ‘Hitherto, Sir, adds he, you have lov'd like a King: variety is pleasant, and to change some­times is very delightful. Perhaps you may find pleasure in devesting your self of Majesty, and addressing your self to a Countrey-Girl, after the manner of those of her Chara­cter who court her.’ The King was [Page 31]willing to do it; and to let the Mar­quess see how kindly he took the o­verture, he told him, That in Love-Policy the first thing a Lover is to do, is to accommodate himself to the Condition and humor of his Mistress: And that those Charming bonds of Sympathy, which link'd hearts into so close an union, had their beginning from thence. How­ever, they concluded Dorothy should be taken from her Parents, and pla­ced with some Lady of the Court, where the King might see her with more convenience and less noise.

The Marquess willing to have the honour of managing the Intrigue, and loth any other should pretend to the Advantage he promis'd him­self from it, proposed to the King, That Dorothy should be placed with the Marchioness his Wife; her Ap­partment being next the King's, (who was every day there) and the most convenient of any in the Palace. [Page 32]The King had thought of it before; but the Marchioness, though young and handsom, made great profession of Vertue, and stood much upon her Honour, which made the King fear she would be hardly induc'd to ac­cept a share in that Confidence he was willing to repose in her. No man knew her better than the King, having been formerly in love with her, though without any conside­rable success; which had not a little contributed to the haughtiness of this Lady, and gain'd her the Repu­tation of an Extraordinary Merit. So rare are the Examples of Beauties whose Vertue is proof against the Passions of Kings: we must seek them in former Ages. In our days faults committed with Princes, are so far from being reputed crimes, that the offenders triumph in their weakness, and make their Infirmity their Glory.

The Marchioness de las Torillas might have pretended to the honour [Page 33]of the Vertuous Ladies of Anci­ent Times, and the King after the experience he had of her Vertue, had reason to fear she would not be plea­sed with the Employment. But the Marquess, the most zealous of Favo­rites to do a Master service, had that confidence in the kindness his Lady had for him, and made the King be­lieve so much of the power he had over her, that this Prince, who de­sir'd it as much at least as the Mar­quess, gave him leave to propose it to his Lady.

The Marquess took his time. Man and Wife can guess pretty near the good hour they may obtain what they desire of one another. Don Au­stin was of opinion the Lucky mo­ment was much about the time of first waking in the morning. After some little endearments and caresses, for prologue to the ensuing discourse, he fell a-talking of Love; how it takes us when we least think on't, [Page 34]and sometimes by objects that little deserv'd it: that this had happen'd to the King, whose affection had stoop'd so low as the Gardiner's pret­ty Daughter. That in truth it appear­ed a blemish to his Honour, which till now had not permitted him to place his affection on any object unworthy it. But that Love is Blind, and Kings are Men as well as others. He past then to the obligations they were under to their Prince, who daily be­stow'd new Favours upon them: And when he came to the point of acquainting her with the King's de­sire to have the Gardiner's Daughter with her, he endeavour'd to gild over the proposal with the advanta­ges it would bring them, to have in their Family a young Innocent thing who would be at their dispose; and by the passion the King had for her, was like to be one of the greatest La­dies at Court, and improve by that means their Credit and Favour. The [Page 35]haughty Marchioness had not the patience to let him finish a discourse so injurious to the Glory she pretend­ed to; but rejecting all that fair shew of Honour and Fortune to be pur­chas'd on such shameful conditions, she told him, He was a dirty and pit­tiful Fellow to undertake a business of this nature, and but think a Wo­man of her Quality and Vertue could act so base and unworthy a part. This confounded Don Austin, and had utterly defeated him, but that the King, who could not sleep, came in to his aid. He was impatient to know the answer of the Marchioness, and entring her Chamber, found her very angry, and little dispos'd to grant his request. She gave him al­most the same Language she had given Don Austin, but temper'd with the Civility and respects due to Ma­jesty: But as she complain'd what small value he had for her, after so many reasons to esteem her, she added [Page 36]he was Master there, and might di­spose as he pleas'd of her Apartment; but she hop'd he would give her leave to retire, that he might have the more room, and she not incommode him. The King who never quitted a design he had espous'd, heard her without the least interruption. And when she had done, he spoke her so fair, and gave her such smooth and insinuating Language, that he made her believe it would not reflect upon her Honour to grant him his desire. In a word, he obtain'd her consent to take Dorothy for one of her Maids, and promis'd her she should be no further concern'd.

The King triumphing for the con­quest he had gain'd over the Marchi­oness, the most haughty and tender of her Honour of all the Ladies of his Court, told the Marquess, He must go speak to Dorothy's Father. The Gardiner brought his Daughter to Don Austin; and thought himself so [Page 37]much oblig'd for the Present of the hundred Pistoles, that he would in acknowledgment have brought him his Wife had he desir'd it.

Antonine was then tending his Sheep, and, at his return home, suf­ficiently surpriz'd not to find Do­rothy there, and to hear she was gone to wait on the Marchioness de las To­rillas, he stay'd not a moment at the Gardiner's, but would go learn of Dorothy what made that Lady take her into her Family. He had disco­ver'd it was the Marquess would have honoured him with the Em­ployment of Porter of Buen Retiro; and knowing he was seldom guilty of too much generosity, nor reputed very obliging, he suspected him for the favour he would have done him. And now, thinks he, the King hath the goodness to allow me to stay here, the Marquess must prefer Do­rothy to wait upon his Lady?

Antonine, whose Wit (as well as [Page 38]Birth) was too high for the Condi­tion of a Shepherd, though he wore the habit, presently discover'd there was design in the Business: That the love he had for that Maid, and the kindness she exprest for him had been taken notice of: And some were grown jealous of him. But Don Austin was the Man he suspected, having no thought the King was concern'd. Antonine goes to Court, enters the Marchioness Apartment, and making use of that liberty the King's Favour allow'd him, he runs up and down, and at last finds his Mistriss, walking alone in a Cham­ber, where the Marquess had newly left her. He takes her aside, and be­ing scarce able to speak for the trouble he was in, ‘Dorothy, says he, you know I love you, and there­fore may believe none more gl [...]d than my self for your good Fortune in being plac'd with the Marchioness de las Torillas. You will never have [Page 39]a Fortune answerable to your merit and my wishes: But, to deal plainly with you, this design of taking you from your Father's bodes me no good. I am too sensible of it; I will not tell you why, nor how, for I cannot if I would: but there is something in it makes me terribly afraid. Nor that I can think you will change your affection with your Fortune: And that being made higher than you were, you will slight a Shepherd, who slights all for you. I have a better opinion of your Kindness and Constancy, and know you better principl'd than to give me cause to suspect you of any thing so mean. But, Dorothy, the Court is a dangerous place for a young thing as you are, and you quit the Innocence of our Woods to follow the Court. You are here in a House, where doubtless I cannot have the same liberty as at your Fa­ther's; nor see you but in the croud, [Page 40]nor speak with you but before wit­ness: What a torment will this be to a Shepherd that loves you as I do? who desire to see you every moment, and have always some­thing to say to you.’ To these A­morous reasons he added a thou­sand considerations, which made great impression on the young Maid, as spoken by one who had the gift of perswading her what ever he pleas'd. She was just going back with him to her Father's, but Anto­nine told her she must not be too hasty. And as he was upon acquaint­ing her with the measures she should observe, word was brought her the King would speak with her, and stay­ed for her in the Marchioness's Cham­ber. Antonine, who thought him­self so much in the King's Favour, that he might without offence bear Dorothy company, was willing to fol­low her, as well to make an end of what he had to say to her, as to sa­tisfy [Page 41]the curiosity he had to know what the King would have with her. They came to the Marchioness's Chamber, where they found only Don Austin and his Lady, which was no small help to make the Shepherd believe his first suspicions were not ill-grounded, That the Marquess had a mind to Dorothy, and would have got rid of him by sending him to Buen Retiro, and had plac'd her with his Lady, on no other design but to part him and Dorothy; and to make the easier prey of her Innocence, us'd the King's Name and Authority against him and her. To compleat his trouble, and convince him throughly of the misfortune he dreaded, they were scarce entred the Chamber, but the Marquess took Dorothy by the hand, and led her in­to another Room where the King stay'd for her, unseen by Antonine who was left alone with the Mar­chioness. This Lady observing the [Page 42]countenance of the Shepherd, fell a-laughing to see him look so pale and wan at his Mistriss being taken from him. And to prevent the su­spicion of being party to the design, she resolved to divertise her self with discoursing of it; and to clear her Re­putation she came up to a window where Antonine was, and ask'd him smiling, how he durst trust Dorothy with the Marquess? ‘I know not, Madam, answers he, but believe I must take my measures in that particular from you, who are e­qually concern'd, and (I perswade my self,) have power enough to prevent any thing of that nature you had reason to fear.’ The Mar­chioness surpriz'd at the answer, would try a little further, telling him Don Austin was Master there, and his will was a law to her. ‘I may, re­plyes the Shepherd, say as much of Dorothy, and with a great deal more reason: For I have not any right [Page 43]over her, nor is she oblig'd to give me an account of her actions.’ ‘But you love her, answers the Lady, and Lovers have great rights to their Mistresss.’ ‘Don Austin, Madam, re­plyes Antonine, is your Husband, and Marriage hath higher rights than Love can pretend to.’ The Marchioness, charmed with these re­parties so much above the capacity of a Shepherd, look'd upon him with admiration, viewing him a pretty while without saying a word. But to bring him in play again: ‘Don Austin, sayes she, has found a pretty young Girl he likes better than me, and if he loves her, must I take it ill?’ ‘No, Madam, answers Antonine, if you love him not: But I who love this Girl with an unparallel'd passi­on, should, I confess, be at my Wit's end to see another partake with me the happiness of being lov'd by her.’ ‘You are jealous then, Antonine, sayes the Lady not able to [Page 44]forbear laughing.’ ‘I really am so, Ma­dam, answers he, not that I think I have any reason for't on this occa­sion, but that in truth I cannot for­bear it on any: And should Don Austin design no more than diver­tisement and do all this in jest, as I am perswaded he does, yet is he guilty of the highest Cruelty ima­ginable, in tormenting a poor Shep­herd who hath no pleasure of Life but the Love of his Shepherdess, wherein Don Austin gives us di­sturbance without any reason.’ The more the Marchioness heard Anto­nine speak, the more willing she was to give him occasion of speaking. She had heard say he was very gentile in his Expressions, and had a particu­lar grace in speaking, which was re­ported the reason of the Kings loving him as he did; but she would never have believ'd he had the Wit she perceiv'd in him, his discourse having more than surpriz'd her.

Don Austin coming out of the King's Chamber, took his Lady aside, praying her to send away the Shep­herd; for if the King found him there, he would think she had kept him with her of purpose to cross his designs. Antonine seeing the Mar­quess come out, thought Dorothy was alone, and asked the Lady whether he might not be allow'd to see her. She told him, No; And that, if he might, she would not advise him to'r. ‘It seems then, Madam, sayes Anto­nine, Don Austin hath forbid it, and came in for that purpose, being jea­lous I would endeavour it; and you are willing to comply with him.’ ‘No, no, answers she ready to burst with laughing, I'le secure you from Don Austin. He's not the Man y' are to fear: But 'tis enough, Antonine, withdraw.’ ‘What say you, Madam, you will secure me from the Marquess, and would have me withdraw: Can I be so unfortu­nate, [Page 46](addes he with a lamentable tone,) to have any other to fear?’ ‘I know not, answers she, but should it fall out so, as possible it may, you must be chearful as you can: 'Tis no news for Lovers to have Rivals, and you may have a Rival may be more for your advantage than misfor­tune.’ The Marchioness let fall these last words out of negligence and meer carelessness, to manage (as she might) an affair which procur'd at once her vexation and her scorn. These haughty Ladies who glory in loving no body, and not admitting love from any, are jealous of all the World, when others are jealous on­ly of those they love. The Shep­herd fix'd his Eye on her awhile, as if he would have read in her Coun­tenance the truth of what she had said. ‘More for my advantage, Ma­dam! replyes he, Can it be for my advantage to be robb'd of all I love in the World? The more po­tent [Page 47]the Rival, the greater the mis­fortune; and I should be very sorry he should prove such as you say. Oh Heavens! cryes he, not giving her time to answer, should he be the Man I imagin! and should I have been born to so much mis­fortune!’ He pronounced these words with so vehement action, and so loud a voice, the Lady was afraid the King had heard him; and that she might be charg'd with having spoken too much, the Shepherd hav­ing fully discover'd what she thought she had not half told him. She took him by the hand, and mov'd with the tears she saw him shed, bid him (with an air of Complaisance) trouble himself no further, but come again, and he should speak with Do­rothy who could better inform him. ‘Ah! Madam, answers he, I am un­done, I know too much from you.’

With that he went out so opprest with grief he was scarce able to stand: [Page 48]The Marchioness was troubl'd to see him gone, because she had not given him more comfort at parting; but she was so astonisht at what she had heard that she could hardly believe her senses. She had not only never seen a Shepherd who could discourse as he had done, but never known any so tender a Lover. She could do no other all day than think with what grace and what transports he exprest his passion: And she observ'd in his sen­timents something so noble, so rare and so moving, that without being guilty of downright inhumanity, she thought it impossible not to be affe­cted with them. But by perswading her self of this truth, she found her heart unquiet, and did nothing but sigh all the night long. She saw not the consequence of it, or at least would not see it. She who had the haughtiness and height of Spirit to despise and reject the addresses of a Crown'd Head, could not fancy her [Page 49]self capable of the weakness to make account of a poor Shepherd. She had indeed pitty'd his tears, but she thought that was all.

The King the hottest Lover in the World, being never at ease but when Dorothy was in sight, yet unwilling notice should be taken of his vio­lent inclinations for her, gave order for some days all the Divertisements of the Court should be in the Mar­chioness's Apartment, where very few had entrance; and of those few who were admitted, poor Antonine could never make one, though he endeavour'd to get in all the wayes in his power. This troubled him the more, as having not been able to rest day or night since his last dis­course with the Marchioness, nor ever likely to be at ease, till he could speak with his Mistress.

The Marchioness who would have been very glad to see him, admiring he was not come to her for many [Page 50]days, knew not what to think on't. She spy'd him one morning walking under her windows, and having made signs to him to come up pre­sently, gave order to an old House­keeper, her Confident, to let him in­to her Chamber as privately as pos­sible. ‘Antonine, says the Marchio­ness, methinks of a Lover so passi­onate as you, y'are soon comfort­ed for the loss of your Mistress.’ ‘I cannot yet think her altogether lost, Madam, answers he, nor guess at the reason they were so cruel to de­ny me the favour of seeing her.’ ‘You must look you out another Mistress, Antonine, says the Lady, and such a Shepherd as you are may have your choice.’ ‘Look out ano­ther, Madam, replyes Antonine, with a tone that sufficiently eviden­ced his grief and surprize, she must be first false to me, and I very clearly convinc'd of it: Besides, I know not whe [...] [...] after all I should not rather [Page 51]choose ceasing to live than to love her. But, Madam, adds he like a Man in afright, is it from her you give me this advice; and has she no more mind to me?’ ‘I do not say so, answers the Lady, I believe Do­rothy loves you: But 'twere better for you to think of another in time, and I tell it you as a Friend.’ ‘As long as Dorothy loves me, replyes the Shepherd, 'twill be impossible for me to change. And did you but know what 'tis for a Lover like me to quit his Mistress, you are too generous, Madam, to advise me to't: But if Dorothy, adds he in a very pressing and curious manner, be not false to me, why should I quit her, Madam, unless you take it ill I should make love to her in your Fa­mily.’ ‘No, Antonine, answers the Lady, you are too expert and dis­screet a Lover to be found fault with for making Love: I will give you no trouble in't. But—’

She stopt there. ‘Ah! Madam, says the Shepherd, seeing her make a stop, what torment have you put me to for three or four days, that you have left me in doubt whom I am to fear!’ The Marchioness bid him come again at nine a clock at night, when the King went to Councel, and she would let him see Dorothy, who would tell him what she was loath to let him know, being very unwilling to be the first should give him so ill news.

Antonine content with this hope, though rack'd with suspicion, return­ed home to wait with impatience the hour was assign'd him.

The Marchioness was more charm­ed than ever with the merit of the Shepherd. She found in him the Character of so tender and passion­ate a Lover, she confest no heart could be so insensible not to be affect­ed with him. And for her part, her haughtiness in slighting Love, must [Page 53]own an abligation to the Court for producing no Lovers, but what were corrupt: And she doubted now and then, whether it were not pardon­able in a Lady of her Quality and Honour, to love a Shepherd as An­tonine. These doubts and Reflecti­ons were so strong and so piercing, her heart which at first felt only the point of them, found it self at length very deeply wounded: But she would not yet complain of it, be­cause the wound, though dnagerous, had something of pleasure in't which charm'd away the pain. In these vertuous Souls so little accustom'd to love [...] touch proves an incurable [...] they rely upon their haughtin [...] [...] and their Greatness of Spirit, which often abuses them, & is sometimes the instrument which betrays them to Love. The fair Mar­chioness full of her New Ideas, was drown'd in an Amorous amusement from morning till night, when the [Page 54]King entred her Chamber with Do­rothy by the hand, and pray'd her she would for a little while take his little Mistress into her care, and he would presently return. The Lady's thoughts were at that time so distracted, she heard not a word the King said, and knew not what to answer him. He was not well pleased with it; and discovering a coldness and melan­choly in her countenance, he would have ask'd her the reason; but was hastned into the Councel by business of extraordinary importance. Doro­thy remain'd with the Marchioness, who taking an exacter view of her than formerly, thought her hand­somer than ever; or that she appear­ed so at least to her who already be­gan to be jealous. She ask'd her if she had not a desire to see Antonine: to which Dorothy having answered with a blush, 'twas long since she saw him, and she would be very glad to see him. Now, the Lady reply'd, she [Page 55]should see him that evening, but the King must not know it: she had hardly done speaking, but Alice the House­keeper came in to let her know An­tonine was at the door. The Mar­chioness bid Dorothy go into the Clo­set, to surprize him the more. She was willing to have the pleasure of seeing him a moment in private, and make him sensible the obliga­tion he had to her for the goodness she express'd towards him. And it was no small favour for a Lady, who in point of honour had refus'd to intermeddle with the Amours of a King, to make her self the Confident of a Shepherd and a Gardiner's Daughter. So much do we differ from our selves as occasions moves us, so easy a matter is it to dispense with scruples our passion are inclin'd to remove.

‘You are very punctual, Antonine, says she, as he came in, and if I mistake not, are come a little sooner [Page 56]than I appointed you.’ ‘Time seems long to those in Love, Madam, an­swers he; and they are so fearful of coming too late to see their Mistres­ses, they are always the first at the place of Rendez-vous.’ ‘I have pro­mis'd you, says the Lady, to let you see your Mistress this evening, but do you know what a hazard I run, & what trouble I shall create my self, if this should be known? Get you into that Closet for fear of be­ing seen; and if Dorothy comes to you, think very much your Friend.’ Antonine, not to lose moments so precious, exprest more by actions than words how sensible he was of the favours she did him; and open­ing the Closet-door was extremly surpris'd at the sight of the fair Do­rothy drest all over with Jewels. The young Lover ravish'd with joy, run presently to him. But he received her with that coldness and sadness, her heart was almost froz'n with fear: [Page 57]And she forbore her caresses to quar­rel him for expressing no more joy at the sight of her after so tedious an ab­sence. He sigh'd and made no other answer: Dorothy more troubled than before, ask'd him as one affrighted, what the matter was he us'd her so: The Shepherd was unwilling to be the first should reproach her for what she perhaps did not yet know; and and he had need enough to be better inform'd of, not to accuse her without cause. He ask'd her first, whence she had all those Jewels he saw about her. Dorothy answer'd the King had given them her, and very ingenu­ously told him all the Visits and fine promises he had made her, and in a word all that past since her coming to the Marchioness. Antonine heard her out without saying a word, then turning another way in a mortal af­fliction, he lift up his eyes and hands to Heaven without further explain­ing himself. But Dorothy frightned [Page 58]at the action, pray'd him so earnestly, adding so many caresses and tears to her prayers, that the Shepherd could no longer deny her the explication she begg'd of him, who was suffici­ently concerned without her intreaty to ease his heart a little by speaking his mind. ‘Dorothy, says he, the King is in love with you.’ ‘Well, I know it, answers she, but if he loves me, he loves you too; and what harm in that?’ ‘What harm, replyes the dejected Antonine with a deep sigh; None, but that I shall never see you more, but die with despair.’ ‘And why should you die, says she, alarmed at these words; and why see me no more, when the King who loves you, takes so much plea­sure to see us together.’ ‘Yes, re­plyes Antonine, do not you see that these three or four days I am not al­low'd the liberty to enter this Ap­partment? But 'tis over, I am un­done, and you are to expect no more [Page 59]of me but my death.’ Poor Dorothy opprest with grief at this Discourse, gave free course to her tears, and embracing him tenderly, ask'd him what reason he had to wish for death, since she loved him above her Life. ‘What am I the better for your Love, answers the Shepherd, when my Rival is possessed of you all day, and courts you, and is a King and can do what he pleases. Ah! how unfortunate am I!’ ‘Never fear the King, says the innocent Dorothy, for he hath promised me he will ne­ver do any thing to displease me.’ Antonine asked her, on what account he made her that promise; she told him, it was upon occasion of some little Favours he would have obtain­ed of her. A cruel explication for one so deeply in Love! He look'd upon her with a languishing Eye, and dying away for fear of hearing more than he desired to know, he fell into a mournful and sad silence; he was [Page 60]just expiring for grief, when on the sudden he heard the King's voice in the Marchionesses Chamber. No­thing could have happened more effectual to fetch him again, than the approach of his Rival, jealousie be­ing the passion that best quickens and most heightens the courage of a Lover.

This Prince was under an Amo­rous impatience too strong to permit him to stay long in the Councel: Affairs of State, and of Love never agree well, not that they are incom­patible, or that a Great Genius is in­capable to bear at once the burthen of both. But this is very rare, and 'tis commonly seen he that acquits himself well of the one, is a little negligent of the other. This Prince having very able Ministers, rely'd on them for the conduct of the State, that he might intirely apply himself to his affairs of Love. He was much addicted to that passion, and more [Page 61]sensible of the Pleasure that attend­ed it, than ambitious of the Glory of good Government: while they treated in his Closet of the most im­portant affairs of his Crown, his mind was in the Marchionesses Chamber, where he had left his Heart with his Mistriss; but he was not a little surprized not to find her there at his return. He asked the Lady what was become of her, she answered very coldly she knew not. ‘I thought, Madam, answers the King, having left her to your Care a few minutes, I might have had a better account from you. I de­sir'd it of you, 'tis an innocent Crea­ture, and knows not how to behave her self; you might without wrong to your self have instructed her a little, and told her she was to wait my coming. But I perceive what the matter is—’ ‘I did not think, Sir, replies the Lady, that in leaving with me a Gardiners Daughter, you [Page 62]desir'd I should be her Governess.’ ‘No indeed, says the King, but if you should be her Governess, think you that to be employ'd so on my ac­count could be a dishonour to you.’ ‘Ah Sir! answers she, with an affect­ed smile, I come of a Blood—’ ‘And you might have come (says the King, interrupting her angrily) of the best Blood of Castile, and have esteemed it an Honour, to serve a King as I am in any manner whate­ever.’ With that he went out very little satisfied with the proceedings of the Marchioness, and sent for Don Austin to make his complaints to him. Antonin and Dorothy were in very great perplexity having heard part of the discourse, but the Shepherd was the more troubled of the two. The Lady bid Dorothy come into the Chamber, that if the King came back again, as she feared he would, he might find her there. As for Antonin she thought it not [Page 63]convenient to let him come out for fear of being seen, and perhaps met by the King who was not far off: the mean time she fell to instructing Dorothy what to say to the King, if he should question her for the little Eclipse she had been under: but she was forc'd to cut off her Lesson short, for the Amorous Prince impa­tiently desirous to know if she were returned, came presently back and entred the Chamber with anger in his Face and much discomposed, but at the sight of Dorothy his Choler va­nisht, and he recovered his good humour.

The Marchioness would have helped Dorothy to make her excuse, and at the same time make her own peace with the King: But he could not hear her, but said he was satisfi­ed; but entreated her to lend him her Closet, to pass a few mi­nutes with Dorothy there. This put the Lady into an extraordi­nary [Page 64]perplexity, with all her coldness and indifferency she could not for­bear blushing; she knew not on what pretence to deny him; the key was in the door, and she was ruin'd if the King found Antonin in the Closet. Poor Dorothy was no less disordered, and though she thought she had no cause of being in fear for her Shepherd; yet she could not rid her self of the fear that follows things done in private. Had the King taken notice of her looks, they had all been undone. She had not then learnt the Art of concealing or commanding her passion: but by good fortune the King's Eyes were fixt on the Marchioness, who assisted with the readiness of Wit, which never fails an able Woman at need, entreated him to stay a moment till she had put the Closet in a con­dition to receive them, every thing being out of order there. The King though in never so great haste (belie­ving [Page 65]Ladies Closets are often full of several things that belong to their dresses, and they are very willing Men should not see, and that this was the cause of her blushing) gave her leave to put it in order. She went into the Closet, and not well know­ing where to hide the poor Shep­herd, she put him under a bed of Re­pose, where he lay coop'd up in a ve­ry narrow room. This done she came out to make way for the King, who entred with Dorothy and made her sit with him on the same Bed. Well Dorothy, says the King, you will never love me. The poor Girl who knew not what was become of An­tonine, surprised to miss him in the Closet, looked all about, sometimes this, sometimes that way, without answering the King, who continued his discourse; ‘I may tell you I sigh and die for love of you, you can give me the hearing without pitty­ing my sufferings for you.’ Dorothy [Page 66]heard not a word he said, 'twas kindness thrown away; she was trou­bled for her Shepherd, and her sense as well as mind was wholly taken up with thinking what was become of him. The King thinking 'twas the Ornaments, the guilding and rari­ties of the Closet amused her, took her by the hand to make her look to­wards him; ‘Look upon me, and answer what I ask you, you little Baggage, will you never love me?’ ‘Yes, Sir, says she, if you will pro­mise me not to send away Antonine from Aranjuez.’ ‘And who told you, replies the King, I design to send him away—’ ‘No, Sir, says she, I was not told so, but I know not why they will not let me see him, and I am afraid if I love you, you would not have me love him too:’ ‘And if I allow you to love him, answers the King, will you love me in good earnest, or at least as well as your Shepherd?’ Doro­thy [Page 67]made him no answer, not knowing how to resolve that point without having Antonine's advice in that case. The King fell a-laugh­ing, and pressing her farther, ‘Is it possible, says he, you should think it so hard a matter to allow a King a share with the Shepherd in your heart. Any other but you would have quickly ended the difference, and no other but my self would be content with what I ask. You are not just, Dorothy, you demand of me what I ought not to grant you, and you make a business and a diffi­culty to grant me what cannot but be for your Glory. You are afraid I should send away Antonine, you complain you cannot see him; you would, if you love me, have me allow you to love him too: these are strange conditions. And yet if I ask you whether you will love me as much as him, you will not answer me. What are you afraid of? I [Page 68]would not have you consider me as your King: among Lovers matters should be equal at least. Let's come to Articles, Dorothy, addes he smi­ling, and if I grant you yours, you must not refuse to sign mine. An­tonine shall stay at Aranjuez, you shall see him and love him: This is for you. Now for my part, you must love me as well as him, and do me the same favours you do him, and if in time you find my care and my passion for you greater than the duties he pays you, without bring­ing my Character or your duty to me into account, you will be con­tent to be intirely mine.’

This Prince, who was infinitely wit­ty, would not make use of a Court­gallantry to gain the affection of an innocent Countrey-Girl. He was a­bove it, and made use only of plain native simplicity, so much the more delicate as it suited her capacity and wrought more effectually on her. [Page 69]The truth is, it shook her. So that the Monarch to take th'advantage of the agreement, began with kisses which she could not refuse him after the promises he had made her in fa­vour of Antonine: But the Shepherd scarce heard the smack of 'em, but all in a rage he pinch'd her by the Leg. This so frighted the poor Girl, that she skrick'd, which astonisht the King. He ask'd her what the mat­ter was; she told him something had bit her. By good luck for Antonine, there stood between the King and Dorothy a little Bitch of the Marchio­ness's which came with them into the Closet; the King thought her guilty of the assault, and with great animosity drove her out of the Clo­set. But Dorothy, having had time to recover her self a little from the fear she had been in, judg'd her hurt came by the hand of a Man, rather than the teeth of the little Bitch: And re­flecting immediately on Antonine, [Page 70]she made no doubt but 'twas he, and that he lay hid under the Bed of Re­pose. The King having assur'd her she need not fear being bit any more, would have been at his former sport; but Dorothy would not agree to it, having understood by her Shepherd's action what she had already done had not pleas'd him. The Prince press'd her, and ask'd why she would be so cruel; but all was lost labour, she would not be brought to't for fear Antonine should bite her the second time. ‘You know our Agreement, Dorothy, says the King seeing her obstinacy, I shall not be oblig'd to keep my promise with you if you refuse what I demand of you. You must love me as well as you do An­tonine, and express the same com­plaisance for me as for him, if you have a mind I should allow him a a sight of you, and not send him away from Aranjuez.’ Dorothy much troubled at these threats, knew [Page 71]not what to answer. In the mean time she granted nothing, but defend­ed her self still against the King's im­portunity, who thinking her light­ness an effect of her humour, and at­tributing to it her refusing him so ob­stinately what she had granted at first without any difficulty, he easily flat­ter'd himself with hopes to obtain it another time, and without pressing her further that evening, retir'd.

Antonine no sooner saw him gone, but he crept out of his prison, grie­vously tir'd with staying so long there. Dorothy, to make him amends was liberal of her caresses, but found him not so well pleas'd with her as to return them: His heart smarted still with the sound of the kisses the King had received of her, or at least given her, which made Antonine requite her caresses with reproaches. The Mar­chioness came in presently, and ob­served a little coldness between the two Lovers, which she took no great [Page 72]care to remove. And Don Austin coming in from the King, there was a necessity of parting.

The fair Ladies went out of the Closet, where they lock'd in Anto­nine, and the Marchioness went to Dorothy's Chamber not far from her own; and having resolv'd to stay there till the Marquess were abed, that she might return to Antonine, she made Dorothy relate all that past in the Closet.

The Shepherd waited with impa­tience enough to know what they would do with him. He could have been content to pass that night in the Closet, in hopes of an opportunity to see Dorothy in the morning, having not yet told her half what he had to say to her, being just upon losing her, not by any falseness of hers, which he knew her incapable of, but through her innocence which madded him. He had a thousand reflexions on what had past that evening, and the [Page 73]conjectures he drew from them were very displeasing: when on the sud­den the Marchioness, opening the door softly, entred smiling, and ha­ving shut it after her, ‘Well Antonine, says she, with a low voice, you are my Prisoner.’ ‘'Tis true, Madam, answers he, I am so, and 'tis no small honour for a Shepherd to have so fair a Lady (as you are) to his Goaler.’ This Answer was a little too Gallant for a Lover, who should have then been full of trouble and care, but he thought himself obli­ged to some sweetness and complai­sance, towards a Lady who had been so much his Friend. ‘You are con­demn'd to stay here all Night, says the Lady.’ ‘I shall not complain of my sentence, Madam, replies the Shepherd, and would to God it were all the ill I am like to suffer here.’ The Lady presently understood he re­flected on the King, but having a de­sign to turn the discourse another [Page 74]way, she made as if she had not ap­prehended him; ‘there shall no ill befall you here, says she, unless the Marquess chance to awake, and have the curiosity to come and see what I do thus late in this Closet. What would he say to find you a­lone with me here at this hour, and what would you do, if you had not time to hide your self?’ ‘I know not in truth, Madam, says Antonine laughing, what I should do, but what could he suspect of a poor Shepherd?’ ‘Do you think because you are but a Shepherd, answers she, a Husband could rest satisfied?’ ‘The Marquess, Madam, answers Antonine, is too well assured of your Virtue, to have any cause to fear the most presumptuous at­tempts.’ ‘The most severe Virtue, replies the Marchioness, may be lya­ble to suspition (with Men less jea­lous, and less interested than the Marquess) when expos'd to a Shep­herd, [Page 75]so handsome as you; and re­ally my Judge must be very indul­gent and favourable, who knowing you have been alone with me at this hour lockt up in my Closet, and my Husband asleep, will do me Justice, and think no more of the business. I must consess I expose my self a lit­tle, but I am usually gain'd by me­rit, and find so much in you, I do not repent it.’ Antonine failed not to answer this excess of Goodness, in the most acknowledging, and most obliging expressions. He thought it a great happiness to have gained the esteem of such a Lady. Yet could not this ease him of his sufferings on Dorothie's account, though his pain was somewhat abated by the hopes he had this Lady would pity him, and espouse his interest.

The Night was far gone, and the Marchioness, who had more than one reason to undress and go to Bed, told Antonine, she had for love of him [Page 76]sent back her Maids to their Cham­bers, and that for once he must be her Chamber-Maid. Antonine un­dertook the Office with a great deal of joy, and did it with so much neat­ness and Gallantry, that of all she had seen him do, the Lady most admir'd him for this. Being but a Shep­herd, and a Shepherd that pleased her, she was not very shye of him, nor observed the measures she would have done with a Man of another Character. The time, place, and em­ployment she gave him, permitted her not to keep the distance and pri­vacy usual in those cases: And these secret affairs, though innocent, in­spire a Liberty into those employed, they believe they are allowed to do any thing. The Marchioness laugh­ed, and so did Antonine; she permit­ted her self to be undrest, just as he pleased, giving him occasion to press very far, had he had the courage: But he was young, and knew not [Page 77]how to use the complaisance she had for him. He had put her at last into a condition to want her Night-Gown; and if the Beauties he saw did not charm him, they at least di­verted him, and made him forget for some moments the troubles of that Evening. The Marchioness, though brown, had an excellent Complexion, and a Neck made to in­spire Treason into the admirers of o­ther Beauties; Qualities the more esteemed in Spain for their Rarity. Her Eyes were beautiful, and black, but so quick and piercing, you could scarce indure to look stedfastly on them. Her Mouth, her Nose, her Teeth, and the rest of her Face had not the least blemish: Her Height, her Ayr, her Meen, were answera­ble, and it was not without reason the King had been in love with her, being unquestionably the handsomest Lady in the Kingdom. She looked from time to time upon Antonine, to [Page 78]observe in his Countenance what ef­fect the sight of some Beauties not ordinary wrought in him; and see­ing him one time very busie, she put him back, whether out of anger or shame, I know not, and resuming her serious Meen; ‘I cannot tell, says she, what people would judge of me, if it should be known at Court, I had allow'd you this liberty, I were ut­terly undone. Be sure you let Do­rothy know nothing of it, for she is an innocent Girl, and will be pre­sently jealous perhaps, and then tell it the King.’ ‘Antonine answered her, Discretion was a virtue not al­together unknown to Shepherds:’ ‘I believe it, says she, especially to such Shepherds as you, who are not born to be unhappy:’ After this, she bid him adieu, and having lock'd him up in the Closet, she went to bed where she did nothing all night but dream of him, and sigh. She called to mind all he had said, and [Page 79]all she had seen him do that Eve­ning, and found not his Discourse only, but the least of his Actions were so unlike those of the Charact­er he bore, she could not possibly be­lieve him a Shepherd. Her heart at least too proud to stoop so low, en­deavoured to make her believe him a young Gentleman of Quality, who had disguised himself for love of Do­rothy. ‘Happy Maid, says she, sigh­ing, how few Women in the World but would be jealous of thy good Fortune, to have the affection of a Lover, the most tender, and most deserving on Earth! Never was Love more gallant and passionate; never were sentiments more eleva­ted and noble than his. Who can but be affected with them? what Virtue can withstand so many Charms?’ These were her thoughts, of which she was so full, the Idea of Antonine, intirely took up all her re­flexion, that she minded not her sighs [Page 80]which she gave free vent to, with such violence that they awak'd the Mar­quess; who asking her what she ailed, she was so surprised she knew not what to say, but that she was not very well. Don Austin, who was fond of her beyond measure, and knew her subject to vapours, ima­gin'd that hindred her rest, and would have gone to the Closet for a Viol of Essence, very good for that Distemper: but the Marchioness told him that was not the thing that trou­bled her. But Don Austin would not be perswaded from rising to fetch the Essence, believing his Lady, to save him trouble, would not own her Distemper. This put the Marchioness to her shifts, so that to stay him, she told him, 'twas only a Dream had frightned her, and kept her from sleeping, and that nothing else trou­bled her. The Marquess having ac­quainted her there was no notice to be taken of Dreams, being an effect [Page 81]only of a wandring imagination, of which no account is to be made, asked her, what she dream't. She seem'd very loth to tell him; but being very much pressed by the Mar­quess, who said he would ease her of the conceit of it; to satisfie him, she had presently this dream. (For before she had dream't of nothing but Anto­nine:) ‘Alas! Sir, says she, with a deep sigh, I thought I was with Child, and brought to Bed of an Infant so big and so monstrous, I died for very grief. With that I awak'd, much troubled to know what ill this dream signify'd; and having pray'd Heaven to be merci­ful to me, I made a Vow not to lie with you for nine days.’ Don Austin, to comfort her, made the most favour­able interpretation he could imagin of the dream, running over all he knew in Story, Sacred and Profane, of the dreams of Daniel, King Ahasu­erus, and many others he told her of, [Page 82]to let her see 'twas good to dream of being delivered of an extraordinary Child: But like a good Man he was willing she should perform her Vow, and to have it over the sooner, pro­mised she should begin that very day.

Any Man but the Marquess would have nullify'd the Vow as against the laws of Matrimony, or at least, su­spected it feign'd to colour some A­morous treason; but he who was firmly perswaded of the Vertue and Piety of his Wife as an Article of Faith, would have been very scru­pulous to entertain the least doubt of the sincerity of her intentions. 'Twas time for him to get up if he meant to wait upon the King at his rising: And as he was dressing, he discoursed his Wife all the while about the vanity of dreams, that she might be unde­ceived, and make no more such Vows. He gave not over talking till he went out of the Chamber, and had so tired his Lady with the dis­course, [Page 83]she wisht from her heart she had never spoken to him of a dream. And she was not a little glad to be rid of him. He was no sooner gone, but she took her Night-gown, and slips softly into the Closet where she found Antonine asleep on the Bed of Repose. She would not awake him, that she might view him at more lei­sure. And sitting on a stool by him, there was not a feature in his Face but she examined narrowly, and Love at the same time imprinted it in her heart. She fancied a thousand things of his Person, imagining some­times this, sometimes that; and out of love or curiosity did so long to be satisfied, that nothing but the fear of awaking him could have kept her back. At last, between strugling with, and yielding to motions more prevalent than all her considerati­ons of Honour and Decency, she ad­ventured (not without blushing) to kiss him. The Happy Shepherd a­wak'd [Page 84]at it, was surpriz'd at the sight of her, much more at the favour she had done him. ‘You load me with favours, Madam, sayes he half asleep.’ ‘If you knew, answers she, lean­ing upon him in a very languishing manner, all the kindness I have for you! but do not abuse it: For you see, adds she, opening her Night­gown, to let him see she had no more on, with what complaisance and familiarity I use you. You see me just as I came out of Bed, and if you are not discreet, 'tis the last time you shall see me so.’

The troubled Antonine made a sorry return for so Charming Over­tures; he put on a very serious face, and full of respect, like a right Coun­trey-Shepherd. The Marchioness was that day handsomer than ever he had seen her. Antonine wanted neither Eyes not Wit, but he was young and and play'd the Innocent. So much Favour on the sudden having perad­venture [Page 85]confounded him. But by little and little, he began to be fami­liar, and the Marchioness who was almost out of conceit with him, be­gan to have some hopes of him: but the House-keeper interrupted very unseasonably, and hindred the con­sequence of the pleasant Conversati­on, by coming to tell her Lady, that Dorothy in great haste and earnestness desired to see her. The Marchioness gave her small thanks for her pains, letting her see by her looks how un­pleasing her message was. But there was no remedy; she must give place to her Rival: And turning towards Antonine, she ask'd him, if he would be glad to see Dorothy: Antonine had the civility not to appear very desi­rous of it, though he longed for no­thing more. But the Marchioness who needed no instruction, seeing his Civility, and satisfy'd with his indif­ference, (though but affected) to make him sensible what complaisance she [Page 86]had for him, bid the House-keeper let Dorothy in. Antonine pray'd her to stay and hear their discourse: The Marchioness look'd upon him, and with a malicious smile, ‘I know, says she, you desire nothing less than what you ask; and if I had a mind to punish you, I would stay; but be not afraid on't, 'tis not my design. And I am more concern'd for your Amours than to take pleasure in be­ing an Eye-witness of your caresses to another.’ With that she went out of the Closet, and got her to Bed again. The House-keeper let in Do­rothy into the Marchioness's Cham­ber, where having paid her devoirs and desir'd leave to go into her Clo­set, she went to her Antonine. The Shepherd receiv'd her with a more pleasing air than the night afore: the anger of Lovers is very short-lived; but the truth is, the Favours of the Marchioness had not a little contribu­ted to put him in good humour. In [Page 87]the mean time the Marchioness had a sad part to act, and had dearly paid with sighs and vexation for the im­perfect pleasure of that morning, had not the King, who was in search of Dorothy, sent in the Duenna to know if she were with the Marchioness. She could not have wish'd a better pretence for parting the two Lovers. And not to lose the advantage of it, would have presently sent Dorothy back into her own Chamber to keep the King there; but he came in, tel­ling her (upon the news he had from Don Austin she had had an ill night on't) he thought nothing but Love could have broken ones sleep, but since it happen'd the most insensible Persons could not rest, it was some comfort to him for the many ill nights that Passion had caused him. The Marchioness, who wanted neither Gallantry nor Wit, return'd him an answer suitable to the subject. But the King thinking she needed rest, told [Page 88]her, he would not add a new distur­bance to that she had been afflicted with; and taking Dorothy by the hand, led her into her Chamber. The Marchioness happily deliver'd at once of two Persons who troubled her more than all the World besides, run straight into the Closet to bring her dear Shepherd the news; but he was no less griev'd at it, than she was joy­ful. It was not in his power quite to conceal from her the rage he was in for jealousie of the King. He spoke with some heat of the Amorous per­secution that Prince afflicted a young Maid with; insomuch that he let fall a word, That it was the part of a Ty­rant rather than a Just Monarch, to force one to love him. The Marchio­ness did but laugh and railly at him to be so passionate. But taking no­tice of those last words, and the action he exprest them with, she discover­ed a boldness and hardiness in his countenance, which did but too clear­ly [Page 89]evidence the Greatness of his Soul. 'Twas not the first time she had su­spected him to be of quite another Quality, than what he pretended to, her passion and opinion of Honour, having perswaded her he was not of ordinary Birth. But in the transport he was in on that occasion, there flash'd out such a fire out of his Eyes, which with the liberty he took in speaking of the King, appear'd so ex­traordinary, that she begun thence­forwards to use him as she believ'd he deserved. And after she had for some moments fixt her Eyes on him, ‘Sir, says she, for I cannot call you Antonine any longer; I am your Friend, and you cannot doubt it: If the freedom I use with you de­serve any confidence from you, deny me not a request I am making to you. Let me know the truth of a thing you can no longer conceal from me. This Shepherd's Habit you are in, suit better with your [Page 90]love to Dorothy than your Birth: you have not sufficiently disguised your self from me, or rather I have too long, and too studiously obser­ved you, not to see your actions, and your words, the Ayr and Grace of your Person, belye the habir you have taken: Had you confin'd your self to playing on the Flute, and keeping Sheep, you might have past for a Shepherd; but when you meddle with othes things you are discovered with half an eye. Hide your self no longer from me, who trust my self with you. I confess, I am much concerned in it, and this makes me so curious: If you fear only my revealing the secret, assure your self, I will keep it as religi­ously as you could desire from the best Friend you have in the World, for I am certainly she.’

Antonine, who was a little disor­dered at the Ladies first words, ha­ving by this time recover'd himself, [Page 91]fell a-laughing, and told her it was her excess of goodness made her use him better than he deserved, that he was no more than the Son of a poor Shepherd near Toledo. And that if there were any thing in him extraor­dinary beyond those of his condition, he was beholding for it to Nature, not Birth. All this could not per­swade the Lady from the opinion she had of his Quality; but she told him that she would, if he desir'd it, still call him Antonine, and use him in publick like a Shepherd; but as for her particular, she very well knew the difference she was to make; And that he might have already conclu­ded from the freedom she had used with him, she had not been long de­ceiv'd. Antonine made but a weak defence, telling her at last, ‘she might rest assured, if there were any thing in his Life that deserv'd confidence, she should be the first that he would impart it to.’ The Marchioness [Page 92]understanding what it meant, pressed him no further: And Dinner-time being come, she sent for it into her Chamber, as being indisposed, that she might have the pleasure of seeing Antonine dine with her. The Du­enna told them, the King did as much with Dorothy, having dined in his Chamber, to have her Company the whole day.

The Marchioness was ravished at the News, and Antonine began to be less troubled at it. Not but that his passion for Dorothy was still very great, but that the thoughts he then had of the King, had filled him with rage and vexation, that he was glad of the opportunity he had to be re­venged of Dorothy, or at least to be even with her. He saw her Inno­cence could not long hold out a­gainst the love of that Prince; and he was so mad at her for it, he began to form a design to abandon her quite. But how unjust are Lovers in these [Page 93]cases? What could a poor innocent Girl do, that had in a manner not seen the World above three days, who knew nothing of Love, but what he had taught her, nor could distinguish what did, from what did not belong to a Lover; but believed, that, except one thing, all was free for the King, as for Antonine; what could she do? Besides, she was to deal with a King, who was a great Master of the Art of Love, and infinitely witty: which with the advantages of Majesty might have prevailed with a Maid more experienced, and more difficult, than Dorothy to be gain'd.

In that unquiet condition the Shepherd's Heart had reason to be in, 'twas no small comfort to have the kindness of a fair Lady, as the Mar­chioness, to qualifie his misfortunes: she was a charming Woman, excel­lently skilled in the Art of pleasing, and forgot nothing that might tempt [Page 94]him to a desertion; sighs, kindnesses, languishing looks, tenderness, obli­ging actions, all the most pleasant poisons of Love were made use of, and to very good purpose. Here was cause enough of fear for Dorothy, had not her good fortune delivered her from the King; and 'tis uncertain what would become of her, had she staid a moment longer out of the Marchionesses Chamber. Such pow­er hath a fair Lady in Love over Hearts, however engaged or indiffe­rent: That Women how deeply so­ever in Love with another, can resist the Engines and Artifices Love in­spires her to make use of.

The Duenna had acquainted them with Dorothie's coming, that they had time enough to put themselves in or­der, though any other but Dor. might have however found cause enough of suspition in the very eyes of the Marchioness: But Dorothy was inno­cent, and had too good an opinion of [Page 95]her Shepherd, to whom without his asking her, she presently gave account of all that past in the extraordinary visit His Majesty had made her. She was so ingenuous not to conceal from him the favours she was forced to grant him, having terribly threatned to ruine him, and send him away where she should never see him, if she were not as complaisant to him as to Antonine. The Shepherd from time to time shrug'd his Shoulders as she talked, and when she had done, asked if this were her faithfulness to him. Dorothy who thought she had done nothing against the duty of one in Love, in complying a little to di­vert the strange menaces the King u­sed, would have justified her con­duct with reasons, which quite drove poor Antonine to despair. ‘That is, in­terrupts he, had the King put it to your choice to have me banisht your sight, or comply with his passion; you would have preferred the shame [Page 96]of yielding your self up to him, to the displeasure of my absence.’ ‘What would you have had me have done, replies she, with some tears to see him speak as he did.’ The Marchi­oness was present at this Comedy, and had all the divertisement of it. Antonine and Dorothy continued long in dispute, without her taking either party. But the King coming so sud­denly, that the Duenn [...] had scarcely time to tell her Lady, he was like to have surprised them all three. He went into the Closet, and having complemented the Marchioness, sat him down on the bed there, and she went out, leaving him and Dorothy together, who resolved to repair her fault: for let the King beg, threaten, fret himself never so much; say, do what he please, she would not so much as let him kiss her hand, which put him almost beside himself; and made Antonine glad at heart. Well done Dorothy, thinks he, this is brave, [Page 97]thou revengest me to purpose for the torment he hath put me to.

The King finding Dorothies hu­mour so strangely altered, since he parted with her, being not above an hour or two; imputed it to some ridiculous counsels the Marchioness, with whom he found her, might have given her in some unseasonable Principles and Precepts of Virtue. He turned all his anger that way, and as he went out of the Cham­ber he made it sufficiently appear to the Lady, he was not well satisfied with the good offices she had done him: He past by her without say­ing a word, quite contrary to the obliging carriage he always used to­wards her. The Marchioness was extremely surprised at it, and apply­ing her fear to that she was most careful of, she fancied the King had discovered Antonine in the Closet, which made him look so angry: [Page 98]she ran strait to Dorothy to know the News, and perceived by the Relati­on, her rigours had put him out of humour. This was presently con­firmed by Don Austin, who came in shortly after to tell her, the King had complained bitterly of her, for the ill instructions she had given Do­rothy: And that if she took not heed, she would ruine him. Time was, when a complaint of this Nature would have been very of­fensive, but it was in the days of Yore; she had now changed her humour, and was become more tractable. She easily defended her self against the King's Charge, and exprest that zeal for the concerns of his passion, that she told Don Austin he might assure his Majesty, it should be no fault of hers, if he were not successful. There was reason e­nough for it, she did her own busi­ness by it: and had the King known how far she was engag'd on his part, [Page 99]and concerned to promote his inte­rests, he would never have suspect­ed her of the injury he charged her with. Don Austin went directly to bring the King the News, and the Marchioness stept immediately in­to the Closet, to laugh with Anto­nine, who could not heartily thank her for making a party against him, yet, knowing the reason of it, he could not be much displeased.

The Marquess came the second time to tell his Wife, the King was well satisfied with the expressions of her good will; and pray'd her if she would not do him service, which he would not adventure to desire of her, yet that she would not make a Confederate against him. She not only promised this, but added, that upon all occasions the King should find her for him, and that she would never speak to Dorothy but for his advantage. Persons of her Cha­racter, where they allow themselves [Page 100]liberty, become more indulgent to others in like cases. Don Austin was the first that gave her thanks, being so well pleased with her that Evening, that had it not been for her Vow, he would have done somewhat extraordinary that night, to let her know how much she had obliged him, in espousing the inte­rest of a Monarch, whom next her, he loved the best of any living, this was excellent divertisement for the Marchioness: At last the visit and conversation of the too grateful Marquess, was so long, she began to be a weary of him, and very wil­ling to be rid of him. His stay was no less troublesome to Dorothy, who having left the Closet when the Mar­chioness came forth, wisht him gone presently that she might return. But the Marquess having been so taken up all day with State-affairs, that he had not time to pay his Lady the duties of a kind Husband, thought [Page 101]himself that day more than ever ob­liged to keep her company in the Evening, after the complaisance she had exprest in what concerned the King. The Marchioness and Dor. rose from their Seats, they walk'd about, they held their peace, but all to no purpose, he stir'd not till it was time for his Wife to go to bed, and he would not leave her till he saw her a-Bed, and past some kind comple­ments to comfort her against the ri­gour of her Vow, praying her par­ticularly never to make the like a­gain. Dorothy was forced to retire and go to Bed, though much trou­bled, and angry, she could not see Antonine. But he was reserved for the Marchioness, who had no soon­er lodg'd her Husband safe, and commanded the Duenna to make all the doors fast, but she got up, and told her dear Antonine, hemight come out of the Closet, the coast was all clear, and they had the [Page 102]whole Chamber for themselves. ‘Yes, Madam, answers the Shep­herd, but if the Marquess should come on the sudden, and I not have time to hide my self, what would he think?’ ‘Alas! nothing, says she, what should he fear from a Shepherd, so discreet and so ho­nest?’ ‘I know not, replies Anto­nine, laughing; but what you told me yesterday, (it would be very hard not to suspect something, if any found me, (as very a Shepherd as I am) lock'd up with you at this time of night) made such impressi­on upon me, that I begin in good earnest to be afraid.’ ‘Fear nothing, says she, laughing also, I am a good virtuous Lady, and Don Austin believes me so, and the pity I have to see you so ill lodg'd in the Clo­set, makes me willing to give you half of my Bed if you dare lie there, I mean upon the Bed, for it would not be handsome for a Shep­herd [Page 103]as you are, or a Lady as I am, it should be any otherwise. And to let you know what a Favour I do you, I can tell you 'tis more than the King in the height of his passion could ever obtain from me.’ ‘It was doubtless, Madam, sayes Antonine, because you were afraid he would not use the Favour di­screetly enough, and are well as­sured of the respect I bear you.’ ‘'Tis rather, says she, playing with him, that I loved not the King, that he had not the Art to please me, and that Antonine—’ She stopt there. ‘Antonine, Madam, answers he, is happier than all the Kings up­on Earth, in that he hath gained the Favour of so fair a Lady as the Marchioness De las Torillas: He hath nothing more to wish for but a Heart to offer and dedicate whol­ly to her. But alas! I have it not.’ ‘Ah! Cruel, says she, interrupting him, why do you mind me of it? [Page 104]why speak you of a thing I do all I can to forget? Permit me to fancy, adds she, with tender and languishing looks, that you neither love nor will love any but me: And if it be not altogether true, yet allow me to say so, and deceive my self, which in this I am very willing to do.’

I know not what this happy Shep­herd thought then, but I believe him in some perplexity. He was forc'd in honour to answer civilly so much kindness and tenderness! the Lady was the most obliging, as well as the most Beautiful of the Court; and had such a winning way with her, a Man must be very ill-natur'd to deny any thing she de­sired: It is easie to guess how two Persons so well agreed, spent the rest of the Night. You may presume Antonine strain'd a point, and com­mitted a little treason against his al­legiance to Dorothy. And if the Fi­delity [Page 105]of any Lover be proof against such a temptation, it deserves to be Chronicled.

The King had not so good a night as Antonine, fretting and vexation fell to his Majesties let, and having not slept till towards morning, he lay a-bed longer than ordinary. Do­rothy would fain have made use of that time to see Antonine, but the Duenna had her Lesson; and told her, That her Lady had been ill all night, and must not be disturbed. Dorothy reply'd, she would make no noise, and only go into the Closet. She might have as well held her peace. The Duenna found reasons enough to deny her, till the King came to talk with her; and soon af­ter the Marquess, who sent in the Duenna to see if his Wife were a­sleep; she brought him word, her Lady was newly awake; and he en­tred the Chamber, and told her, she must needs rise, and go to Belviso, [Page 106]where the King dined that day: The Marchioness excus'd her self, pre­tending she was indispos'd. But the Good Man her worthy Spouse told her, if she would but endeavour to go so far, being but a walk, where the Air and Divertisement would certainly recover her, she would very much oblige the King, who would not go without her, and scarce believe she was ill, having that morning a complexion more fresh and more beautiful than ever. The Marchioness could not forbear laughing to see how Don Austin ca­jol'd her. And finding what-ever she did she was not to expect being at liberty that after-noon, she chose rather to please the King, and avoid the occasion of giving perhaps some umbrage, by pretending an indispo­sition, which by her Husband's re­port she could not sufficiently feign. She took her time to give Anto­nine notice of this Walk, and ac­quaint [Page 107]him what a trouble it was to her to leave him, putting it to his choice to stay there or go along. Antonine told her, he must needs get forth, and appear at his Lodging, where Dorot. Parents were doubtless much concern'd what was become of him, having not layn there these two nights. The Marchioness wisht him to come again at night, and she would give the Duenna orders, so that he should need only to apply himself to her for entrance.

Belviso is a House of Pleasure within two miles of Aranjuez, the most agreeable and charming in all Spain. 'Tis a little enchanted Castle in the middle of a Lake, at the point of a Valley, than which nothing can be more delightful to the Eye. The Castle both without and within is equally rich, painted, and guilded all over, which glitters admirably in the Sun. 'Tis all of wood, and so curiously carved, that there is no­thing [Page 108]more rare and more curious for Invention or Work. All the Chambers may be lower'd or rais'd at pleasure, by Screws and Machines. And though but four, and a Hall in the middle, they have a way to make them appear twelve several Cham­bers, different not only in Furniture and Ornament, but in Figure.

The King being arriv'd at the side of the Lake, embarqued in a Canot with the Marquess, his Lady, Dorothy, for whom the Entertainment was designed, with two or three other Ladies, and some principal Lords of the Court to go to the Castle. In the mean time they were troubled Antonine appeared not. 'Tis not the King was so concern'd, but Dorothy and the Marchioness, who look'd a good while round about them to see if he were come. Dorothy had never been in that Castle, and the King would in Person give her the plea­sure of seeing it; and for love of her, [Page 109]set all the Machines of those moving Chambers a-work. He was scarce got to the third, but Dorothy disap­pear'd, not by the force of any Ma­chine, but because she stay'd in the second Room; the King not willing some Lords about him should take notice of the concern he was in for her, went forwards, hoping in so small a place he could not long want her. And indeed he found her in the second Room speaking to one of the Pages. He surpriz'd them, and asked Dorothy laughing, if she had any office of Gallantry to imploy that Page in, that she was in so private discourse with. She blush'd a little, & fell a-laughing too, at the King's not knowing the Page. This made the King fix his Eye upon him; and with no small surprize discover him to be Antonine. ‘And how long is it, says he to him, that you are turn'd from a Shepherd into a Page?’ ‘Anto­nine answer'd, But from that very [Page 110]morning,’ having a desire to see the Castle; and finding there was such order given, that there was no get­ting in but in his Livery, he had bor­row'd a Page's Coat for the purpose. The King said no more to him; but scarce took any pleasure the rest of the time he spent there, having al­most always this Shepherd in his Eye, speaking constantly to Doro­thy: which put the King in no small trouble and perplexity with his for­cing himself as much as possible to hide the concern he was in. His passion for Dorothy had not yet been much taken notice of, and he was willing to observe some measures in publique; so that he found it very difficult to be in private with her there. Antonine making use of the liberty the King allow'd him, follow­ed him where-ever he went, as well as the Lords and Ladies of his Train, and seem'd to affect keeping close to Dorothy more than ever. The King [Page 111]might have got rid of him by send­ing him to Land; but 'twould have been too apparent, and what pre­tence soever he had taken, they would have guessed at the true cause. So that the very maxims of Decency forced the King to permit a Shepherd, under his very nose, to cross his desires, to torment him, and ravish from him undisturb'd what he best loved in the World, without the Kings daring to complain of it, or ex­press the least resentment: Only he spoke of it to the Marquess his sole Confident, who had pray'd him to let him know the cause of the disorder that appear'd in his countenance. This Faithful Minister of Love as well as State, having learnt what it was, resolved at any rate to ease him of the sight of the Shepherd, at least for some time. He thought of se­veral ways to do it, but knowing that Women are generally better than Men at such matters, he went [Page 112]to his Wife; and taking her into another Room, ask'd her, if she could not device some means to take that Shepherd aside, who troubled the Entertainment, and get him kept out of the King's presence, without sending him to Land, which the King for some reasons was unwilling to do. The Marchioness very offi­ciously proposed two or three ways, which indeed were neither proper nor approved by the Marquess. At last she told him, That to disabuse the King, and wipe out the ill-im­pressions he had taken of her conduct as to Dorothy, she would serve him on this occasion, and take Antonine into another Room, under pretence of making him play on the Flute, and would keep him there as long as he pleased; but she feared 'twould be to his cost, and that the World was malicious enough to talk of such a thing. Don Austin fell a­laughing heartily at the apprehen­sions [Page 113]of his Vertuous Wife, and em­bracing her with extreme kindness, told her, Her Reputation was so friendly established, it would never be suspected, though there were no more Vertue nor Honour in the World. That she might take his word for't, who was most concern­ed. And that it could not be at least a Shepherd could do him any injury. Having said this, he pray'd her to do as she proposed; adding she would do the King a singular pleasure, being no longer able to endure the sight of the Shepherd. The Marchioness failed not to do it; and with an Address her affection, more than any design to please the King or oblige her Husband, inspir'd with, she drew Antonine aside from Dorothy, and took him to another Chamber, where she stay'd with him till they went back for Aranjuez. The King was never the better for it: Dorothy did but fret and vex when [Page 114]she lost sight of Antonine, and her Eyes discovered the trouble she was in, not to know what was be­come of him.

The Sun was set when they came to Aranjuez. And the King having a desire to take a turn or two in the Garden, the whole Court follow'd him, except the Marchioness, who had designs in her Head; and hav­ing accompanied her Husband a­while, told him she was not very well and must withdraw. The Mar­quess more civil and kind than she wisht, brought her to her Chamber, and bore her company till she was quite tyr'd with him. She undrest her self, she went to bed, she com­plain'd her Head ach'd, and that she must go to rest; and not knowing what to say or do more, she order'd the Windows should be shut, that the light might not trouble her in the morning; but Don Austin's Love was the same in the dark as in the [Page 115]light. But she must send him away at last, telling him the trouble she was in he should be there in the dark, and she not able to speak to him, in­creased her malady and kept her from sleeping. The good Marquess charm'd with the kindness of his dear Spouse, took his leave of her, praying her she would send for him, if she grew worse in the night. The Marquess was scarce gone, but the Duenna came in to let her Lady know Antonine was in her Cham­ber; the Marchioness bid her let him into hers, and immediately the Duenna led in a Shepherd who was not a little surpriz'd at the dark­ness of the Lodging: the Marchio­ness imagining his surprize at the Novelty, fell a-laughing as soon as she heard him come near the Bed; and reaching out her hand to him, ‘Fear nothing, says she, this is all done for you, and you know you are not in an Enemies Country;’ she [Page 116]made him sit on her Bed, and going on with her discourse told him the Darkness was a Friend to fearful ‘Lovers as you are. But you are ve­ry mute methinks Antonine, why do not you answer me?’ She had scarce said this, but in comes the Duenna almost out of breath, to tell her the Marquess was coming with a Flambo, and was just at the Chamber-door. ‘Go hide you in the Closet,says the Marchioness to her Shepherd:’ but finding he stirr'd not, she was astonish'd, and pushing him with her hand, ‘do not you hear what they say, Don Austin is just here, go hide your self, unless you will ruine both me and your self.’ With that the Mar­quess entred, who told his Wife he was very sorry he must disturb her, but he had lost a Paper of great importance to the King, and must needs have left it on her Bed. The affrighted Marchioness being then so [Page 117]angry with Antonine she wish'd him hang'd, told him, ‘you come the most seasonably in the World to chastise a Fool; an Insolent Fellow came into my Chamber the very moment you were gone, and has put me into a most terrible fright, sitting upon my Bed, and I cannot remove him.’ The Marquess asto­nisht at the insolence, ran towards the Beds Feet; and in the Wrath he was in against such an impudent Rascal, not willing to be at the pains of examining who he was, he look'd only for a stick, to baste him into better manners, and teach him the respect due to his Wives Bed; when he heard the Kings Voice who was disguis'd like a Shepherd, and fell a laughing to see himself upon the point of being bang'd, and bid the Marquess open his Eyes and mo­derate his fury: What a deadly blow was this to the Marquess! he turn'd pale and dismay'd, he [Page 118]could not speak a Word: at last having recovered his Spirits, ‘Ah, Sir, is it thus, a King as you are keep his Word? Have you done me so many Favours, only to rob me of my Honour? Ah Heavens! (cries he quite distracted,) have I lived thus long to see my self loaded with Infamy by a Prince for whom I would have lost my Blood!’ Ha­ving said this he withdrew. The King would have staid him, that he might clear himself before the Mar­chioness of the unjust suspicion he had of him, but he had not the pa­tience to hear him. The King fol­low'd him, that he might disengage himself from a Lady, who had more reason than the Marquess to complain of him; though in truth he was not in fault towards the one or the other, as will appear by the truth of the adventure.

For the King staid not long in the Garden, having not been well sa­tisfi'd [Page 119]with Dorothy all that day, and being full of suspicion and jealousie of her, he let her go where she pleas'd, not doubting but a rendezvouz had been agreed on at the enterview be­tween her and Antonine at Bellviso; To see whether his suspicions were well-grounded, he resolved to put a trick on her, and going to his Chamber took the Shepherds Habit he formerly made use of, and put it on. His design was to go pray the Marchioness to help him to de­ceive Dorothy, and send her to him under the name of Antonine. He came for that purpose into her Apart­ment, and within some paces of her Chamber he found the Duenua go­ing in search of the Shepherd; and being prevented by him, mistook him for Antonine; it being then so dark she could not distinguish them, so that she brought him to her Lady in the manner you have heard.

Don Anstin was so enraged, he resolved to die or retire from Court never to appear there again. The King knew the appearances which deceived him, were enough to give him mortal displeasure, unless he disa­bus'd him. But he knew not how to do it, without giving him light into the Correspondence between his Lady and Antonine, which would make the matter much worse and ruin a Lady he had still some re­spect for. He was sorry he had not hid himself, that he might have di­verted himself about the adventure with the Marchioness, without mak­ing the Marquess jealous. But that which induced him to be so malici­ous, as not to get out of the way when she bid him, was the pleasure of being reveng'd of a Woman who had play'd the Lucrece with him, and yielded to a Shepherd: If he could have believed she would have put the confidence in him to [Page 121]take their measures together, to disabuse Don Austin on his part, and pass over the adventure in raillery; he had certainly gone into the Clo­set at first, or advised with her after­wards what course to steer: but he knew her humour too well, and that she would not hearken to his Proposals. Therefore that he might not lose his labour, or oblige peo­ple against their wills, he contented himself to tell the Marquess he had not design'd him any wrong: that he might believe it when he took the pains to assure him of it: that he had always had a great esteem and affection for him and his Lady, and made it sufficiently appear, that his disguisement was purely on the account of Dorothy, whom he would have surpriz'd, and not the Marchi­oness. ‘Surprize Dorothy, answers the Marquess sighing, in my Wives Bed!’ he stopt there, which made the King laugh, who had the good­ness [Page 122]to say a great deal more to un­deceive him; but it serv'd only to render him more suspitious. ‘I should never have believed, Sir, says the Marquess, you would have made use of the pretence of an inno­cent Girl, to oppress me with grief and with shame: this proceeding is not just towards a Servant, who hath made it the business of his life to study your Glory, and the good of your Estate.’ The King could not forbear laughing at his re­proaches, which cut Don Austin to the heart, being mad to see him take pleasure in triumphing to his Face for the injury he had done him; so that he let fall some words which past the respect due to the King. ‘You are a little out, says the King calmly, but I pardon the passion that blinds you; you accuse me without cause, you reproach me unjustly. Had I had designs up­on your Wife, I had not need to [Page 123]have disguis'd my self; I might have hid my self when you came in, and have chosen a better time. But I did not bestow her upon you, to do you this unkindness; I keep my Word to my very Enemies, if you have reason to distrust your Wives Vertue, inquire better who does you the wrong, and find out the mystery before you accuse any. All men have their failings, much more all women; and he that trusts so tender a Sex, and so capable of a Passion they place their Glory in, is deceived at last. Think of what I say, you may one day find it true.’ ‘Ah Sir, says the Marquess, I am but too well assured I am de­ceived; but if not by you, whom should I fear in the Kingdom? is there any other my Wife would vouchsafe to turn her Head for?’ ‘You see this, answers the King, shewing him the Shepherds Habit, you may guess what it means, and [Page 124]I was mistaken for another.’ ‘Shep­herds, Sir, replyes the Marquess, are for Shepherdesses, and I shall never be jealous of them. Were I assured of your part, I would still take my Wife for the honestest Woman of the Kingdom.’ ‘And I assure you, says the King, as my business was not with the Marchio­ness, no more was hers with me. And you are to take heed the mis­chief you fear, if it be not already done you, come not from a party you least suspect.’ The King did not design to say so much, but the Marquess forc'd him to 't by bringing Dorothy into discourse. And the King being very tender of that point could not forbear speaking his mind. The Marquess stood mute a while, not knowing what to think of the Shepherds Habit, on which the King grounded his suspicions and con­jectures, that he was taken for ano­ther, but fancy'd he meant Antonine, [Page 125]because his Wife had for the Kings satisfaction, and almost against her will, past part of the Afternoon with that Shepherd in a Chamber a­lone. He was about to laugh at the conceit, and resuming the discourse to gain further explication, ‘Could you hope, Sir says he, to make me jealous of any one wears such a Habit as this?’ the King made no answer, letting him understand by his silence what he was to think. But the Marquess desiring to be fur­ther satisfy'd in a point of this im­portance, ‘What Man, adds he, of that condition durst once look upon my Wife?’ ‘That durst Anto­nine, replies the King somewhat briskly, whom the Marchioness, if you must needs know it, vouch­safes to fix her Eyes upon.’ ‘If An­tonine, answers the Marquess, came into my Wives Chamber, it was not on her account; and had I seen him set on her Bed, and that [Page 126]he had been with her all day, and all night, it should never have bro­ken my rest.’ ‘I believe so, says the King, had you seen them in bed to­gether, you would scarce believe any thing.’ ‘Sir, replies the Mar­quess, I should take her to be Doro­thy; and I must be broad awake to believe her my Wife.’ The King made him no answer, and the discourse was carried on so far, that at last they promised one another mutual Offices of Friendship, and agreed to watch Antonine narrowly, and give one another intelli­gence, of all passages that concern­ed either, to find out who was de­ceived. The King made the pro­posal, Don Austin accepted it with a great deal of indifference, think­ing the King had done it only to a­muse him.

The King no sooner left him but he returned to his Wife, who at first sight of him fell to exclaiming a­gainst [Page 127]that Prince, who not content to have made her Apartment the Scene of an Amorous Intrigue, came disguised to surprise her when he knew she was sick a-bed, and had no help at hand, but her Voice, and her Tears. That it was an action unworthy a King, who had so much reason to know her, by the proof he had made of her virtue: But she saw clearly enough, that the com­plaisance of a base Husband was the thing encouraged him to make a new attempt upon her honour, and they were agreed together to destroy her. It being impossible the King would have ventured co­ming into her Chamber, as he did, had he not known the Windows were shut, and no light in the room. And he could not know this but from him. The Marquess much troubled to hear himself charged with so much baseness by his Wife, of whom he thought he had rea­son [Page 128]to complain, did all he could to justifie himself to her. But all to no purpose, the more he justified himself, the more guilty she made him; calling him Traytor, a Man of no Honour, unworthy to possess a Lady so virtuous as she. But all this noise could not keep the suspi­cious Don Austin from resolving to have the honour to lye with her that night, for he thought her dream of the monstrous Child boded him no good. And a Vow so much to the purpose, attended with a little indisposition, which obliged his Wife to have her Chamber Win­dows shut up, and the King's com­ing to her in a Shepherd's Ha­bit, gave cause for conjectures which pointed directly to his Fore­head: he needed no more motive to have her absolved that Evening of so delicate a Vow.

He sent presently to pray the Bi­shop of Carthagene, his particular [Page 129]Friend, to do him the honour of coming to his Lodgings: the Bi­shop came, who not only absolved the Lady from her Vow, but ac­cording to the duty of his Chara­cter, applyed himself to make Peace between the Marquess and his La­dy, and happily effected it to the sa­tisfaction of both.

And their Union after the Bi­shop's Benediction, being greater than ever, they began to ask one a­nother in good earnest, the whole truth of the story. The Marchio­ness was to speak first, of common right, as having more cause of com­plaint than Don Austin: She told him it was most true, that in the dark, as he had left her, she heard one come in without saying a word, which surprised her very much: But more, when she found he came and sate on the Bed, which made her, trembling for fear, call in Alice to her aid, and that he came [Page 130]in himself the next moment. Don Austin believed all this to be true as the Gospel, not thinking it possible his Wife could have the Conscience to tell a Lye the next minute after receiving Episcopal Benediction. He told her on his part, the confe­rence he had had with the King, who assured him, he had no other design but to surprise Dorothy, which in truth might be true. But the most pleasant jest of all is, adds he, he would fain have made me jea­lous of Antonine. And because he hath reason to be jealous of that Shepherd, he would have all the World be so too; And since he cannot get rid of him, he would set on another to do him that piece of service. The Marchioness here­upon plaid her part excellently well, making a thousand exclamations, clapping her hands, lifting her eyes to Heaven, laughing with all her force, and doing all other Actions [Page 131]of a Woman amazed at the strange­ness of the News, which afforded them matter of discourse most part of that Night.

In the mean time, the Marquess according to the agreement be­tween the King and him, to watch over Antonine, failed not at his ri­sing to give the necessary orders, as to Dorothy; as for his Wives part he feared nothing. The King on the other side eager for the sport, and desirous at any rate to convince the incredulous Marquess, of the new Title his Wife had given him, placed his Scouts abroad to observe Antonine's motions towards the Marchioness. But she was before­hand with him, having that Eve­ning sent orders by the Duenna to the Shepherd to retire, and not ap­proach the Palace, especially her A­partment till notice from her. So that the Spies for some days could give their Masters no account. But [Page 132]absence is the greatest of torments for Lovers, and the loss of the com­pany of what you love, is little less then the loss of Life. Antonine was in torment not only on the ac­count of Dorothy, but of the Mar­chioness, who served for a kind of amorous consolation for him, when he could not see Dorothy. The Mar­chioness was no less afflicted; and Women, as 'tis said, being more vi­olent in their passions than Men, 'tis credible, this Lady, who loved the Shepherd so well, had a very ill time on't. She had none but Alice, her Universal Confident to comfort her. And the poor old Wretch was as much afflicted as her Lady, to see her languish, and grow melan­choly: She would by all means go seek out Antonine, to make her chearful, promising the Marchio­ness, to bring him in so safe and so secretly, that no one should know of it. But the Marchioness had [Page 133]more Wit than to run such a ha­zard, and chose rather to go see him at his Lodging, than expose him to discovery, by being surprised in hers. She asked the old Duenna, if ever she had been at the Gardiners? and Alice having made Answer, she was acquainted with him, and his Wife one of her best Friends; ‘I tell you, says the Marchioness, the reason of my Question, and the design I have laid. I know your fidelity, and the affection you have always had for me, therefore I con­fide in you. I will go see Anto­nine at his Lodging, I take that to be the surest course: Dorothy is much about my pitch; I will take a suit of hers, and I doubt not but I shall be taken for her, when I am seen go to her Fathers: we need only order things so, that when I am got thither, Antonine may have notice, and the Gardiner and his Wife both sent out of the [Page 134]way, for they would wonder at the visit. This must be done to morrow Morning, when the Phy­sicians have prescribed me a Ba­thing for my pretended indisposi­tion.’ ‘The Duenna answered, all this would be easily done, that the Gardiner went at three a Clock in the Morning to work in the Garden, and she would undertake to give Antonine notice of the honour intended him, and take out the Gardiner's Wife along with her a-walking till Dinner-time.’ All this was accordingly resolved, and executed. The Duenna ha­ving the charge of her Ladies War­drobe, provided that Evening a Suit for the purpose. And at six in the Morning came in to awake her, telling her before Don Austin, that the Water was ready, and she might presently bathe her self. The Mar­quess who had first advised her to it, encouraged her to rise, because she [Page 135]seemed somewhat loth: with much adoe she took her Morning-Gown, and entred the Bathing-room, where she found a Suit of Dorothie's ready for her, which she put on, while the Duenna trudg'd away to Antonine to dispose things there for her reception.

The Scouts were night and day abroad, both the Kings and the Marquess's, or at least had order to be so. But Favorites are commonly bet­ter served than their Masters: Don Austin was fallen asleep again, when one of his Spies came to tell him, he saw Dorothy go in at her Father's. At this time of day, thinks the Marquess, Dorothy takes the pains to go to her Father's, there's design in the case; I must carry the King the News, it is worth the trouble. With that he got up in all haste and drest himself, for fear of the birds being flown e're he could get from the King to the Gardiners. He had [Page 136]not the patience to carry his Wife the News to the Bathing-room, ho­ping to treat her with the whole sto­ry at his return. He got to the King's Chamber, desired audience about urgent business, was admit­ted, and immediately fell a laugh­ing; ‘You may imagine, Sir, I would not have come thus early to disturb your Rest, had I not a par­ticular business to acquaint you with. The happy Antonine is this moment in the Arms of the Marchioness.’ ‘I am not surprised at it, says the King, laughing also, and if you had no more to tell me, you needed not to have taken the pains to be so early up; for I am perswaded, they have been long a­goe very well agreed.’ ‘No, no, Sir, says the Marquess in railery, I am come to tell you, according to my duty, that Dorothy is gone thus early to give her Parents a visit, wherein you may believe Anto­nine [Page 137]shall have his share.’ ‘But what, replies the King, if you have for once, taken Dorothy for the Marchioness:’ ‘I fear no mi­stake, Sir, answers the Marquess, for besides that, I left my Wife but now in her Bathing-room; the news I bring you, was told me by two of my Servants, who know Dorothy very well, and saw her go in at her Fathers.’ The King said not a word more, but got up and was drest, and would go in Person with the Marquess to the Gardi­ner's. They got thither in a mo­ment, and finding a little Girl at the door, asked who was within: She answered, none but Antonine and Dorothy, in a Chamber she shewed them. What a transport of Fury did this put the King in, who till then feared nothing! he ran to the Chamber, and finding it shut, knockt at the Door, with that vio­lence, and rage, as if he would have [Page 138]storm'd the besieged: no body o­pened, nor answered; the King ex­tremely incensed, had no longer pa­tience, but commanded two of his Servants to break down the door. He was obey'd, and entred in first, and next him Don Austin. But the Gallant was got out at the Window, and no body left but the fair Lady, sitting in a corner of the Chamber; with more confusion than fear, wrapt up in her Manto, to see the unhappy Catastrophe. The King broke out into bitter Lan­guage against her, and had perhaps gone further, but that the Marquess minded him of his Character: However, he resolved toput to open shame that little Traytress (as he often called her) taking her by the Manto, in which she kept her self muffled. At last he snatch'd it off, but who was more surprised, he, or Don Austin, to see it was the Mar­chioness? The King was extreme [Page 139]glad, and seeing the Marquess thun­der-struck, without speech, or mo­tion, could not forbear laughing. ‘Now, Don Austin, says he, you see how people are mistaken, is this Dorothy, or the Marchioness?’ With that the enraged Husband, not able to indure the King's Raile­ry, and the insupportable affront his virtuous Lady did him, fell upon her without respect to the King's Presence, with that violence and anger, the King had much ado to get him from her. He drew him out of that Chamber, and as they went from the Gardiners, met An­tonine in Custody, having been ta­ken by the care of the Marquess, who to make good his News to the King, had given order for appre­hending him, if he endeavoured to escape. The sight of Antonine dou­bled his fury, and he had certainly stabbed him with his Poniard, had not the King, in his turn, minded [Page 140]him where he was, and of the re­spect due to his Character.

Poor Antonine was put into the Tower of Aranjuez. The King lost no time to go see Dorothy, and tell her the whole Story, of which he hoped to make advantage. But the poor Innocent having with astonish­ment heard the King, fell a-crying when she understood Antonine was in Prison. She fell upon her Knees, and pray'd him if he lov'd her, to set Antonine at liberty, and not do him any harm. The King having reproached her, for having so little resentment against a Shepherd, guilty of such falshood to her, who in con­tempt of the kindness she had for him, had thrown himself into the Arms of another; told her, he could not set him at liberty so soon, but must give at least so much satisfacti­on to Don Austin, who had cause to take away his Life, much more to have him kept Prisoner. Dorothy [Page 141]somewhat comforted by the King's promise to do Antonine no further harm, and mov'd on the other side with the reasons she was told she had to be angry with her Shepherd, was not very earnest for his Enlarge­ment. The King finding her more complaisant than ever, past part of the day with her: While they were together, the Captain of the Guard came to know his pleasure, how An­tonine should be us'd. The King bid him give him what he called for, but not permit any to see him or speak to him, except such only as brought a Ring, which he took out of his Pocket, and shew'd the Cap­tain, that he might know it. Do­rothy having observ'd all this, waited an opportunity to get that Ring in­to her hands. By good fortune, the King having slept little the Night before, and been awak'd early that Morning by the Marquess, could not forbear falling fast a-sleep in Do­rothy's [Page 142]Chamber, who failed not to slip her Hand in his Pocket: And with a great deal of dexterity took out the Ring. The King awak'd not long after, and having spent some time with her went to Bed.

Dorothy was no sooner at liberty, but she went very joyfully to the Tower, where Antonine was pri­soner. And having shew'd the Of­ficer the King's Ring, entred with­out difficulty: Antonine was surpri­zed to see her; she fell presently to complain of him, but the Cunning Shepherd quickly appeased her; And having real kindness for her, and seeing she slighted the passion of a Great King for love of him, he re­solved to marry her, and not part with her till she had engaged her self to be his Wife, and received his engagement to be her Husband; lest the King taking advantage of his Imprisonment (as he had reason to fear) should rob him of her. They [Page 143]were quickly agreed, and past that night like Fortunate Lovers.

The King slept soundly, and little dreamt of the designs against him, of which he was likely to be the more sensible, as the hopes of obtaining his desires were more probable than ever, when he parted with his Mi­stress. At his rising they told him, a Gentleman pray'd Audience upon business of importance. The King ordered him admittance. The Gen­tleman falling presently on his knees. ‘Great Sir, says he, I come to beg Pardon for a Gentleman, whose Youth hath made him com­mit a fault pardonable in those of riper Years.’ ‘You beg my Pardon, Friend, says the King, bidding him stand up, for a Gentleman I know no more than the Fault you have mentioned.’ ‘Sir, answers he, the Shepherd you committed yesterday to Prison is Don Alphonso de Leon.’ ‘Antonine, says the King, interrupt­ing [Page 144]him, much surpriz'd at the news, Is he of the House of Leon?’ ‘Yes, replyes the Gentleman, he is a Younger-Brother of that Illustri­ous Family, who arriv'd incognito at your Court, came to take a turn at Aranjuez: And as he was walk­ing in the Garden, the Master, as the custom is, presented him with a Nosegay by his Daughter, whom Don Alphonso found so charming, he fell that moment passionately in love with her. We were engag'd that very day for Toledo: but he feigned himself indispos'd; and having taken no rest that night, he look'd very ill the next Morning. We would have perswaded him to return to Madrid, where he might have the help of able Physicians, rather than stay at a Place where he could scarce have one pittiful Chi­rurgeon to let him Blood. For three or four days he obstinately insisted, the Air at Aranjuez would be e­nough [Page 145]to recover him. And that he should not want Physician or Chyrurgeon. In the mean time he could neither eat nor sleep; he was so tormented with his Love, which was his only Distemper, and at length much prejudiced his health. But fearing the business would at last come to light, and having ever had confidence in me, who am his Governour, he took me one day a­side to acquaint me with the Se­cret, praying me, if I lov'd him, I would be so kind to him, as to find out the means to stay some time at Aranjuez. I omitted nothing that could be said to divert him from the pursuit of so extravagant a Passion. I represented to him a thousand in­conveniences would attend it; I minded him of the Glory of his Birth, and the blemish it would be to him to amuse himself with an Engagement so much beneath him: and at last threatned to write of it [Page 146]to his Parents. But all to no pur­pose. He fell down at my feet, begg'd of me upon his knees and with tears in his Eyes, that for a Month or two I would permit him to please himself in his folly, swear­ing he would die or kill himself, if I forced him from Aranjuez. I knew not what to do; I was almost di­stracted, and wisht I had never been concern'd with him. At last, after long resistance, I yielded to his prayers and tears, and consented to one Months stay at Aranjuez; and that he should play what part he pleased there, but not under the Name or Character of what he really was; least, if that came to be known, it might prove an inde­lible stain to him and to me. The fifth day we left Aranjuez, with design, according to my Promise, to return both together in a very short time. We went to Toledo, and having sent away all our [Page 147]People to wait our coming at Cor­dova, in the way to Sevile, where we designed to go; we bought us two Habits of Shepherds, and re­turned to Aranjuez. Our design was to send him to the Gardiner's to live with him, and offer him very good terms, in hopes he would not know him in that disguise. In our way to Aranjuez we lay at an Inn, within two leagues of this Place, where the Host was a friend of the Gardiner's, and very ready to serve us, after a small present I made him. This Man recommend­ed him under the Name of Anto­nine, the Son of a Rich Shepherd near Toledo, who desired to have his Son kept at some distance from him, and offer'd a very good al­lowance for his maintenance. Anto­nine was very well received by the Gardiner. I stay'd at that Inn, and came two or three times a-week to see the young Shepherd, but could [Page 148]never prevail with him to come a­way, putting me off still from one Month to another; till yesterday in the evening, the Gardiner sent me an Express to bring me the news of his misfortune. I will not trouble your Majesty with the sur­prise and grief it put me to, I stay'd no longer than while. I could put off my disguise, as no longer use­ful; and resume my former Habit, and came immediately away to the Gardiner's last night, where I was told all the passages.’

The King no less charm'd than astonisht at the circumstances of this Story, resolved to do Justice to the prejudice of his Affections; and to declare that Don Alphonso de Leon, whose passion was so strong and so tender, deserv'd better than he to enjoy the fair Dorothy; he took the resolution from that moment not to cross him in his Amour. He got himself drest to go carry the news to [Page 149]that Charming Maid, and to give her full liberty to dispose of her Heart as she pleased; thinking him­self obliged by such a Sacrifice, to re­pair all the trouble and injury he had done that young Gentleman. But he was strangely astonisht; when, coming to Dorothy's Chamber, he was told she lay not there that night; and that they knew not what was become of her.

He thought first she was gone to see Antonine; but then finding little reason for that, he fancied she was gone to her Father's, but could not guess for what end. Yet the jea­lousie he was not yet rid of, for all his resolution against it, had made that impression within him. It perswaded him against all appearance his first thoughts were true, and that she was certainly gone to Antonine: And to satisfie himself, he must go to the Prison to know the news. [Page 150]He asked the Officer, who had been to see the Shepherd: He told him, Not any but the Marchioness's Maid, (so they called Dorothy) who had been all Night with him, and was there still. The King redden'd to hear him, and asked him in some heat, if he had not given him or­der no body should see the Shep­herd? Except those, Sir, answers the Officer, who should shew me your Signet, which that Maid brought me. My Signet, says the King, putting his Hand in his Pock­et: he found it was gone. And be­ing highly offended with the bold­ness of the little Lasse, he went into the Prison to complain of her, where he saw the two tender Lovers, falling presently at his feet. Antonine was the Speaker, and begg'd the King's Pardon, for two Loving Youths, who placing all their happiness in the Enjoyment of each other, had united by indissoluble Bonds, what Love [Page 151]had already strongly chained toge­ther.

Anto­nine hearing these last words, could no longer doubt, but the King had been fully informed who he was: and falling the second time on his knees, would have excused what his excess of love made him do. [Page 152]The King embracing him again, answered, ‘He could not condemn a passion himself had been subject to; that the Beauty and merit of Dorothy deserved better fortune than her Birth promised her. That it was no news to see (not Genle­men, but) Princes to choose Con­sorts out of Cottages: That Love wrought far greater miracles: and as for Birth, it was no obstacle in their Case, who are in a condition to bestow Honours, and Dig­nities.’

This Discourse was received with thanks and acknowledgments, from Don Alphonso and Dorothy. After which the King having sent for rich Cloaths for the one, and the other, he led them to the Palace, where he was pleased to have their Nupti­als celebrated, with all the splendour and Magnificence due to the Quali­ty of a Gentleman of the Ancient and Illustrious Family of Leon. The [Page 153]King Honoured Dorothie's Parents with Titles of Nobility, and made her Father Governour of Aranjuez. The poor Marchioness was put into a Nunnery, and after two years pen­nance, her Husband who notwith­standing the accident at Aranjuez, had a love for her still, set her at li­berty, and took her home to him­self, where they liv'd the rest of their days in a fair correspondence, if you consider with how much reason they had been parted.