THERE is a Treatiſe in the Spaniſh Tongue, entituled IL PICARO, which being rendred into Engliſh, under the Title of THE ROGUE, or, The Life of Guzman de Alfarache, the humour took ſo well in this Nation, that He and his Rogueries were ſeveral times committed to the Preſs. The Deſign of that Work was to repreſent a Perſon, on whom either Nature, or a ſtrange aſcendency of Mercury had beſtowed ſo liberal a Talent of cheating, thieving, and circumvention, that he not onely trapan'd all he dealt with, but alſo became a Precedent and Pattern to all thoſe, who, out of neceſſity, or inclination, have been forc'd to live by their ſhifts, or, as ſome would have it, by their wits. The preſent Tract hath ſome reſemblance to the excellent Piece before mentioned, inaſmuch as it brings in a Woman, engag'd in as great deſigns as thoſe of her Predeceſſor Guzman, but with this diſadvantage, that the weakneſs of her Sex obliges her to make uſe of the aſſiſtances of Men for the better proſecution thereof. Both Treatiſes were originally written in the Spaniſh, a Language we are oblig'd to for moſt pieces of this nature: and as, in the former, the Relation is pleaſantly interrupted by certain merry tales and ſtories; ſo in ours, there is an intermixture of Novels, to heighten the Reader's ſatisfaction and divertiſement.

The draught I am to give of this Miracle of Female ſubtilty may be of very great advantage to three ſorts of perſons. Thoſe who feel in themſelves a certain diſpoſition to be wicked, may be admoniſh'd, and reform, before they have occaſion to repent; they, who, defying all advertiſement, are reſolv'd to be miſchievous, may, out of an apprehenſion of the enſuing puniſhment, be deterr'd into caution; and the innocent and vertuous may learn a leſſon of prudence and circumſpection, to avoid thoſe ſnares that are laid for them. The things I write are not ſuppoſititious, or fram'd in my own imagination, but ſuch as really happened in one of the moſt eminent Cities of Spain; which yet if any man have not faith enough to believe, I have no other advice to give him, but that he would travel to thoſe places, where our Scene lies, to diſprove me.

As to her Perſon, She was young, ſprightly, and very beautiful; three dangerous advantages, when they are attended by thoſe endowments for which ſhe was no leſs famous, to wit, Craft, Impudence, Hypocriſie, and an inſatiable longing for the goods of other people; and all theſe ſtrengthned by a bent of nature, as being the iſſue of Parents, who, inſtead of giving a timely check to theſe vicious inclinations, rather incourag'd her in them by their example, as being addicted to the ſame themſelves.

Seignor Trapaſſa, Father to this excellent perſon whoſe atchievments we intend to deſcribe, had been condemn'd to the Galleys, for having aſſum'd to himſelf the Order of the Knighthood of Chriſt, before he had made the neceſſary trials, upon which his Majeſty beſtows that honour, by the judgment of his Soveraign Council of Portugal. His deſign in doing it, was that he might more conveniently follow his profeſſion of ſtealing about the Court, where he was reſpected as a Knight, and the better, under that cloak, to play thoſe pranks of villany, wherein he was ſuch a Profeſſor, that the moſt expert might have heard his Lectures. A certain Woman, whom he us'd to trade withall, incens'd againſt him upon the account of ſome jealouſie, that he reſerv'd not all his kindneſs for her, put in a charge againſt him, the iſſue whereof was, That he got the ſaid preferment in the Galleys; where he paſs'd over the term of his condemnation, and ſomewhat more. He was diſpos'd into that Squadron, which is called the Squadron of Spain, and tranſlated from Toledo to S. Mary's Port, with the reſt who were in the ſame Predicament of Slavery. He had made an attempt to recover his liberty, but the plot being diſcover'd, he was put to greater hardſhip than he had otherwiſe been.

As ſoon as the Lady Eſtephania (ſo was called the jealous Woman, who had ſhewn him that trick) underſtood that he was gone to exerciſe that painful employment, though ſhe were not of an over-compaſſionate nature, very ſeriouſly repented her, that ſhe had been the cauſe of his miſery, and conſider'd that ſhe could not make a better ſatisfaction for that injury, than by proffering her ſelf to him in marriage as ſoon as the time of his penance were expir'd. What inclin'd her the more to this kind of reparation, was, that ſhe had already had a Daughter by him, which Daughter is the ſubject of the preſent Treatiſe. With this reſolution, ſhe left the Court, and went to Sevil, hoping, in that great and famous City, ſhe might the ſooner hear ſome news of him, whom ſhe had reduc'd to ſo great miſery, and whom ſhe would gladly once more ſee at liberty.

Eſtephania had a houſe very well furniſh'd, being a Genoeſe's Widow, who had left her very well to paſs. That, and the care ſhe took to go ſomewhat high in cloaths, gain'd her ſuch a repute at Madrid, that ſhe was look'd on as a perſon of ſome quality: but ſhe ſoon loſt that, when the hiſtory of her life came to be known, eſpecially this particular of it, that, out of an exceſs of jealouſie, ſhe had preferr'd to the Galleys a young Gallant, whom ſhe had often entertain'd in a feather-bed. That imprudent ſally made her abhominable in the ſight of her moſt intimate acquaintances of her own ſex, whoſe indignation ſhe allow'd to be the more juſt againſt her, when ſhe conſider'd, that ſhe had caſt away her ſelf on an impoſtor and a raſcal fit onely for the Galleys.

Theſe reaſons and reproaches oblig'd her to remove from Madrid to Sevil, taking all ſhe could conveniently carry along with her, and ſelling the reſt, which brought her in a conſiderable ſumme of mony. Having thus order'd her affairs, ſhe went towards Sevil by Coach, with two Maids to wait on on her, intending to continue there, till the time of Trapaſſa's ſerving in the Galleys were expir'd; which being near out, (for ſhe kept an exact account of it) ſhe underſtood that the Spaniſh Galleys were arrived at S. Mary's Port. She immediately went thither, not ſo highly clad as ſhe was wont to go at Sevil, but in a more modeſt habit, that it might not be afterwards caſt into her diſh, that ſhe had been the wife of a Galley-ſlave, and withal one ſhe had courted out of his chains into her embraces.

She immediately underſtood that her Gallant was in the Captain's own Galley, very jocund, and advanced to the office of a Fore-man, a preeminence among the Slaves which exempts them from rowing, and he had acquir'd it of the General by the pleaſantneſs of his converſation; nay, had he not had that charge, he was by this time grown ſo well acquainted with the Galleys, that he minded not much whether ever he got out of them. But the arrival of Eſtephania remedi'd all. Her firſt buſineſs was to treat about his liberty, ſpeaking to thoſe perſons on whom the buſineſs depended, and preſenting them with certain ſumms of mony, before Trapaſſa had any knowledge of her deſign, whom he could not have ſeen, as having not yet ſtirr'd out of the Galley. So that he was extremely aſtoniſh'd, when he came to underſtand, that ſome perſons did not onely uſe bare ſolicitations in order to his liberty, but were alſo liberal of their mony to procure it, yet could it never come into his thoughts, that his old Love Eſtephania ſhould have chang'd the cruel humour, he had left her in, into one ſo mild and obliging.

All things being concluded and agreed upon for Trapaſſa's liberty, his chains were knock'd off, and he was told, that he might go whether he would. In the mean time he could not imagine who had procur'd him that happineſs, which was no ſmall one, inaſmuch as though the poor Slaves have ſerv'd out the time of their condemnation, yet are there ſome cauſes found that hinder their being ſet at liberty, nay ſome are ſo unhappy, that having been condemn'd for four years, are forc'd to ſtay there five, or ſix.

Seignor Trapaſſa was extremely aſtoniſh'd, when he found himſelf in the preſence of his Eſtephania, and underſtood, that it was onely by her means he had recover'd his liberty; ſhe receiv'd him into her arms, and he, to expreſs his gratitude, return'd ſo obliging a reception with the like careſſes; ſo that the kindneſs he then receiv'd of her, made him forget the reſentment he might have of the miſeries ſhe had occaſion'd him. He was troubled to find her in a much different habit from that he had left her in at Madrid, for he knew not that it was out of deſign ſhe had ſo diſguis'd her ſelf, nor could ſhe at that time give him an account of it, by reaſon of the Captain and others being preſent, who had conducted him, and whom ſhe was oblig'd to entertain at dinner. Having treated them as well as ſhe could, all withdrew, ſave onely Trapaſſa, who continu'd ſtill in the Inne with his Miſtreſs. Finding themſelves alone, they reiterated their careſſes, and outvy'd one the other in aſſurances of the ſatisfaction they conceiv'd at that interview. Trapaſſa render'd her his thanks with all the grateful acknowledgments imaginable, for the pains ſhe had taken, and the goodneſs ſhe had had to deliver him out of the cruel torments he endured. On the other ſide, Eſtephania begg'd his pardon for the miſchief ſhe had done him, and all the miſeries her malice had caus'd him, telling him withall, that ſhe could not imagine any other way to repair the injury ſhe had done him, than by joyning hands with him in matrimony, if he lik'd the propoſal, ſince ſhe already had a daughter by him, and wealth enough for both of them to live at their eaſe.

I leave you to judge whether this motion were not pleaſing to Trapaſſa, one that would have ſnapp'd at the leaſt proffer of good fortune, upon his coming out of ſo ſevere a School of penance. As if he had forgot the former, his Anſwer was in renew'd embraces, thereby ſatisfying her with what joy he accepted of the advantageous offer ſhe made him, entreating her to give him an account of his Daughter, whom he was paſſionately deſirous to ſee.

Eſtephania over-joy'd to find his ſentiments ſo conſonant to her expectation, preſented him with a noble riding-ſuit, which ſhe had purpoſely caus'd to be made for him, and the next morning betimes they took their journey towards Sevil, where Trapaſſa finding his Daughter (who might then be about eight years of age) he acted a part he never had done before, that is, was ſolemnly married to the Lady Eſtephania, in facie Eccleſiae. They chang'd their lodgings, and indeed the quarter of the City where they had liv'd, being reſolv'd to lead another kind of life than they had done before. For Eſtephania imagining, that the hardſhip which her dear Love had endur'd in the Galleys, had abated ſomewhat of his former extravagancies, and that the grey hairs he had brought thence would reclaim him from his debauches, endeavour'd to get him ſome creditable employment in Sevil, as well to keep him out of idleneſs, as out of a conſideration that he ſhould bring in ſomething towards the houſe. But an untoward diſpoſition, ſuch as was that of Trapaſſa, is not ſo eaſily brought into diſcipline, and if he had as yet behav'd himſelf with ſome reſerv'dneſs, it proceeded from the influence, which the perpetual admonitions and rebukes of his wife had over him, and not out of any bent to vertue in his nature; ſo that, through his own neglect, he could find himſelf no other employment, than that of frequenting Gaming-houſes, and Plays, and thoſe other places, where thoſe, who are naturally inclin'd to ſloth, think fit to ſpend the greateſt part of their time. This carriage of his extremely troubled his wife, who yet willing to avoid all matrimonial diſcontents, wink'd at his diſorders, and endeavour'd to find ſome comfort in the converſation of her Daughter, whoſe beauty was already become the common diſcourſe of the City.

Idleneſs, the ſeminary of all ſorts of vices, by degrees brought Trapaſſa into his former cuſtom of Gaming (the Sea wherein ſo many Eſtates are wrack'd) ſo that beginning at firſt to play for little (as if it had been rather for Recreation than otherwiſe) but afterwards venturing more and more, he in a ſhort time made a ſhift to lavander whatever he could lay hands on of his wife's. She was ſenſible enough, that many of her things were wanting, and doubted not but her Husband was the conveyer of them; but all ſhe could do was to weep, and bemoan her ſelf, charging none with her misfortune, but her ſelf. Trapaſſa perceiving her ſo much troubled, promiſed reformation; but the damn'd lechery of Gaming prevailing more and more upon him, his luck was ſuch, that in four years he either ſold or pawn'd whatever was worth it in his houſe. Finding himſelf at laſt reduc'd to very great neceſſities, he began to caſt about how he might recover himſelf a little: he would have been content his wife (who was as yet handſome enough) ſhould have condeſcended to lewdneſſes unworthy her recover'd reputation, but he perceiv'd ſhe was grown ſo honeſt, and ſo alter'd from what ſhe had been before, that he had not the confidence to ſpeak to her of any ſuch thing. For ſhe was ſo extremely troubled at the diſorder'd demeanour of her husband, that ſhe grew in a manner careleſs of all things; nay ſhe little minded the education of her daughter, who was by this time come into the—teens, and, by reaſon of theſe diſtractions in the family, liv'd as ſhe pleas'd her ſelf, appearing every day at her window, and that not with little affectation.

The grief and regrets which poor Estephania conceiv'd at her being reduc'd to neceſſity, heightned by the diſcontent caus'd her by her husband, brought her into a ſickneſs, whereof ſhe died about a year after, with a perfect repentance for her paſt miſ-carriages, reinforcing at that extremity all her ſpirits, that ſhe might die as happy a death, as her husband had occaſion'd her living an unhappy life. She was very poorly buried, Trapaſſa having not the means to beſtow any more coſt upon her than he did. He was in his turn troubled, at her death, and acknowledg'd, but too late, his great overſight in that he had ſo long continu'd his debauches, and that if he had follow'd her good advice, he might have liv'd handſomely all the reſt of his days. All the comfort he had now left, and all the hope on which he grounded his happineſs, was the beauty of his Daughter, which he thought ſuch, as would bring him a Son-in-law, that might relieve his neceſſities; never conſidering that the vertue of the Age conſiſts in wealth, and that all perfections and graces have no charm in them, if depriv'd of the attractions of riches.

The unfortunate Trapaſſa, as cruſh'd as he was with miſeries, continu'd ſtill a conſtant frequenter of the Gaming-houſes, not indeed to play himſelf, for he had not wherewith, but to receive what he had ſometimes given, to wit, the Barats, a little preſent the Spaniards are wont to beſtow on thoſe, who look on them while they are playing, when they have had a good hand, and this is commonly the ſureſt revenue of thoſe who have ruin'd themſelves by Gaming.

The little aboad which Trapaſſa made at his own houſe gave his daughter the greater freedom to follow her own inclinations. She would be perpetually at the window, which induc'd abundance of young Gallantillos to make their appearances in the ſtreet ſhe liv'd in. The Father, who was not ignorant of what paſs'd, though he might have prevented, yet wink'd at it, out of the deſire he had to ſee his daughter advantageouſly match'd, that ſhe might afterwards help him out of his neceſſities. This indeed was the moſt likely means he had to recover himſelf. He thereupon left the little Rufina (ſo was his daughter called) to her own liberty, hoping, that, by her inſinuations, ſhe would in time have the diſpoſal of their hearts and purſes who courted her. His deſign prov'd more fortunate than he had imagin'd, inaſmuch as among the many, who languiſh'd for her, there hapned to be one very rich, who was over head and ears in love with Rufina. She aſſum'd the title of Donna, a title belongs onely to women of noble extraction, becauſe her Mother had taken it before her, which if ſhe had not, her Daughter would not have balk'd it, as being an honour which coſts little or nothing.

The perſon who was ſo remarkably her Suitor had the Agency of ſome affairs of Peru, one whoſe credit much exceeded his eſtate, was accounted very rich in the enſuring Office belonging to the Indies, and about fifty years of age. Though he knew well enough that his Miſtreſs had no fortune, and that he muſt withall be charg'd with the ruin'd perſon her Father, yet was he reſolv'd to take her, for better, for worſe; whence may be deduc'd this obſervation, That when Love becomes Maſter of an aged perſon, it is a very hard matter to diſpoſſeſs him. Laurentio de Saravia (ſo was this amorous Elder called) was ſo beſotted with the beauties of Rufina, that the Treaty of Marriage was concluded in leſs than eight daies, and he had the earneſt of a happineſs, which he thought would have laſted as long as he liv'd. He took his Father-in-law into his houſe, though he knew him to be a great Gameſter. The firſt days of the Nuptials were ſpent as they are wont to be in ſuch Solemnities; he gave his wife new cloaths, rings, and jewels, yet ſuitably to her condition; for being a perſon pretty well ſtricken in years, he was no lover of exceſs, an humour which pleas'd not Rufina, who minded nothing ſo much as gaudy cloaths, and long'd for whatever ſhe ſaw worn by women of a quality much above hers; and this abated not a little of the love ſhe bore her husband, who was of an Indian diſpoſition, covetous, and careful to preſerve his eſtate. Knowing, as I told you, that his Father was a great Gameſter, and a perſon run out of all he had, he truſted not his wife with the keeping of his Caſh, no not with the management of what was ſpent in the houſe; which quite defeated the hopes of Trapaſſa, who imagin'd, that, upon the marriage or his daughter, he ſhould command what were in her power; ſo ſtrangely was he poſſeſt with the reſtleſs ſpirit of gaming.

Rufina, perceiving her husband was taken up with his affairs, took occaſion to go abroad every morning, upon pretence of a certain devotion ſhe had undertaken, that it might pleaſe God to make her a Mother. With this excuſe ſhe blinded her husband, but the true motive of her ſallies, was to ſhew her ſelf in the Streets and at Church. The firſt of thoſe who upon ſight of her, fell in love with her, was a Citizen's ſon of Sevil, one of the moſt debauch'd young men of his time, one, to ſay all of him in a word, who had brought himſelf almoſt to the ſame condition as Trapaſſa: he was deſcended of vertuous Parents, but his diſorders had drown'd their good reputation. His name was Ruperio, a Spark of a goodly preſence, and one who prov'd ſo fortunate in the courting of Rufina, that ſhe was wholly at his devotion, hoping to receive ſuch great preſents from him, as might put her into cloaths ſutable to her beauty, which was more than ſhe could have expected from the Miſer her husband.

The firſt demand ſhe made to him, was very modeſt, conſidering it came from a Merchant's wife, to wit, that he would beſtow on her a Gown of the ſame Stuff and Faſhion as a Neighbour of hers had, whom ſhe named, and withall a gold-watch to hang by her ſide, promiſing him in requital of that favour that ſhe would not deny him any that lay in her power. Ruperio, who by his inſolent boaſtings had raiſed her into a perſuaſion of his being a perſon that had thouſands at his command, promis'd to do what ſhe deſir'd; but being not able to perform, he ſet his wits to ſhew that trick, which his purſe could not. He happened to be well acquainted with her whoſe Gown was to be his pattern, he went to her, and intreated her to lend it him, pretending it was onely for the repreſentation of a Comedy, which was to be acted in a Nunnery. It could not be deni'd on ſuch an account; ſo that at the end of three days, which time he told Rufina that it would be making, he ſent it to her houſe, while her husband was abroad in the City about his buſineſs. The Watch he told her was not yet finiſh'd, but that as ſoon as it were, it ſhould be brought her, intreating her in the mean time to accept of another of leſſer value, as a hoſtage for the appearance of the other. She return'd him her hearty thanks, was extremely pleas'd to ſee that he had been ſo punctual, and to ſhew her ſelf grateful, ſhe gave him all the ſatisfaction he could expect from her.

He took leave of Rufina, who reſolv'd to perſuade her husband, that a certain Kinſman of hers had ſent her that Gown from Madrid, that ſo he might not be jealous of her. On the other ſide, Ruperio was contriving how to get it return'd to her, of whom it had been borrowed. Saravia not knowing him, he effected his buſineſs by this cheat. About three or four days after the delivery of the Gown to Rufina, he puts himſelf into the habit of a Servingman, and juſt at dinner time comes to Saravia's houſe, ſaying that he was Servant to the Lady to whom that Gown belonged. Saravia order'd him to be brought in, which being done he told him that he was ſent by his Miſtreſs for the Gown ſhe had lent Madam Rufina, onely to ſee the faſhion of it. Saravia turning towards his wife, ask'd her what Gown the fellow would have? She preſently knowing her Gallant, Friend, ſaid ſhe to him, come hither to morrow morning, and you ſhall have it. But my Miſtreſs, replies Ruperio, hath commanded me not to come back without it; for this afternoon ſhe is to go a Chriſtning, at which ſhe is Godmother, and ſhe muſt needs have it. How ſhall I know, replies Rufina, that you have any relation to that Lady, and that you now come from her? The crafty Companion perceiving what ſhe would be at, and that ſhe had no mind to return it, The Gown, ſaid he, is of ſuch a colour, the Trimming ſuch and ſuch, and it was ſent you in a green cloth, done about with a ſilk fringe. Saravia hearing him give ſuch particular marks, Sweet-heart, ſaid he to his wife, you have nothing to reply, for ſince he demands it with ſo much earneſtneſs, it muſt needs be his Miſtreſs ſtands in need of it, and if you are unwilling to riſe out of your place, give me the key of your Trunk where it is, and I will go and fetch it. Rufina upon this had not a word to ſay, and at laſt ready to burſt with indignation, ſhe roſe from the Table, took the Gown out of the Trunk, and delivering it to Ruperio, Preſent my humble ſervice, ſaid ſhe, to Madam Leonora, and tell her, I beg her pardon, that I ſent it not home ſooner, which I could not, in regard ſhe hath not been here ſince who borrow'd it for me to have another made by it.

The diſguis'd Gallant receiv'd the Gown, and left Rufina, her eyes all on fire, and vext to the ſoul, to find her ſelf ſo impudently affronted. Saravia ask'd her upon what account ſhe had borrow'd that Gown; ſhe made anſwer, That ſhe had done it at the intreaty of an acquaintance of hers, who was deſirous to have ſuch another, as being extremely taken with the faſhion of it. She perſuaded her husband to any thing, who, poor man, underſtood little of the world beſides his trading. In the mean time, ſhe was extremely incens'd againſt Ruperio for the ſlovenly trick he had put upon her, in depriving her of a garment ſhe was much taken with, and whereof ſhe thought her ſelf indiſputably poſſeſs'd. She thereupon reſolv'd to be reveng'd on him, what ever it coſt her; but thinking to communicate her deſign to her Maid, who was privy to all her ſecret deſigns, Trapaſſa, who over-heard them, came to know the whole ſtory; and being acquainted with the Gallant, as being one who hanted the Gaming-houſes, and conceiving himſelf oblig'd to revenge the affront done his daughter, he meets him in the ſtreet one day, and tells him, he deſir'd to meaſure the length of his Sword, upon what account he ſhould know, when they were come to the place. Ruperio follow'd him out of the City, and being out of Peoples ſight, Trapaſſa told him what had occaſion'd his giving him that challenge. They preſently drew, and made ſeveral paſſes, but at laſt Trapaſſa prov'd the more unfortunate, for he was run through the heart, ſo that he died immediately, having not the time to make the leaſt act of contrition; a judgement commonly happens to thoſe who lead ſuch Lives as he had done. Ruperio took Sanctuary, and Trapaſſa's Body was brought to his Son-in-law's, where it was receiv'd, with a mixture of joy and grief; joy, that the Houſe was disburthen'd of one of the moſt humourſome and inſupportable perſons in the world; and grief for the future charges of his enterrment.

In the mean time, Rufina made it appear by her lamentations and tears, that his death caus'd her as much affliction as it brought her husband joy. She would not hear of any conſolation, pretending ſhe had loſt all her ſupport in this world, for all the kinred and friends ſhe had were now exchang'd for a husband, whom ſhe could not affect. On the other ſide Saravia thought himſelf the happieſt man in the world, to have a wife handſome and young as his was. But ſhe was indeed a little too handſome and too young for him; that proportion of Age, which Parents ought chiefly to mind in the diſpoſal of their Children, was not obſerv'd in this. 'Tis not to be expected an old Man can pleaſe a young Girl. When a woman comes once to ſlight her huſband, ſhe is in the way to fancy any body. But for Rufina, the paſſion ſhe had withall of going highly in cloaths, and to be reveng'd of Ruperio, made her break forth into all the exceſſes, that exaſperated Woman-kind can fall into, defile the Marriage-bed, and implicitely give her ſelf over to all thoſe things, whence ſhe might derive either ſatisfaction or advantage. Nothing ran ſo much in her head as the injury ſhe had receiv'd from Ruperio, which ſhe thought ſuch, that ſhe would not have Liv'd, but out of a hope to be reveng'd of him. But in regard ſhe muſt have other hands than her own to do that, ſhe ſought out all opportunities imaginable to aſſure her ſelf of a Gallant, who would vigorouſly execute her commands.

One of thoſe Fridays, which are ſolemnized with a great concourſe of people from Eaſter to Whitſuntide, in Triana part of the Suburbs of Sevil, through which paſſes the Quadalquivir, the famous River of Andaluſia, and the Looking-glaſs of that wealthy City; Rufina went into a Boat cover'd with branches, to go and ſee that Feſtival, to which ſhe was carried, by the expreſs order of her husband, by a Neighbour of his, whom he thought one of the moſt diſcreet and virtuous Women in the world. But he was not the firſt Man that was deceiv'd in a Woman; for, on the contrary, ſhe was one of the wantoneſt and withall the ſimpleſt of the whole Sex. She therefore took up a Boat for her ſelf, Rufina, and two other Women of their acquaintance; but though ſhe had given the Water-man his full fare; yet was ſhe eaſily perſwaded by him to take in other perſons into the Boat, and among thoſe, a young Man, who had his Sentinels at the Water-ſide to give him notice of ſuch an opportunity. As ſoon as they were got into the Boat, Rufina unveil'd, and the Gallant (whom we will call Felician) had no ſooner ſeen, but he was ſurpriz'd with her Beauty. He thought her ſo handſome, that he perſuaded ſome of his friends, who ſtood on the River-ſide, to come into the Boat, and to effect that, greas'd the fiſt of the Water-man. Being all got in, Felician took his place next to Rufina, into whoſe favour it was his deſign to inſinuate himſelf. He was Son to a perſon of Quality, who had rais'd himſelf to a vaſt fortune in the Indies, and had no Children but only this, who diſpoſing of his wealth, as he pleas'd, it was conceiv'd it would not be long ere he ſcatter'd abroad what his Father had not in ſo ſhort a time raked together. For he was a conſtant Gameſter, a perpetual Courter of Ladies, and he maintain'd a conſiderable crew of Hangers-on, who did him no other ſervice than accompany, and encourage him in his debauches. Beſides theſe noble qualities, he was extreamly extravagant in point of cloaths, a vice not extraordinary in thoſe young men of Sevil, who have all things at their own diſpoſal, as he we ſpeak of had.

Having, as was ſaid, ſeated himſelf next to Rufina, and his Camerades next to her friends, the Boat put off, and went very leiſurely down the River, for which the Water-man was ſo much the better paid. Felician thought this time ſo precious that he loſt very little of it; he diſcover'd his Love to Rufina in ſuch obliging expreſſions, that ſhe gave abſolute credit to his words, and, by her attention, ſatisfy'd him, that ſhe was not diſpleas'd with his company. Felician was a very ingenious perſon, and of an excellent good humour, upon ſuch occaſions as thoſe; he deliver'd himſelf with ſuch a ſmartneſs and grace, that the Ladies were extreamly well ſatisfy'd, eſpecially Rufina, who thought nothing comparable to his converſation. She gave him her name, told him where ſhe liv'd, and what profeſſion her husband was of, and in a word made him a kind of Confeſſion of her more ſecret affairs. Felician was as open to her, concluding his diſcourſe with a thouſand proteſtations of ſervice and obedience. The afternoon was ſpent in complements and courtſhip, and to the great ſatisfaction of Rufina, who had two deſigns to carry on at the ſame time; one, to be reveng'd of Ruperio, by the aſſiſtance of Felician; the other, to cajol the latter out of ſomewhat towards cloaths and her extravagant expences. Nor did the buſineſs happen otherwiſe than ſhe had deſign'd it.

From that day Felician began to frequent the ſtreet where Rufina liv'd, eſpecially when he had intelligence that her husband was abroad about his affairs. Rufina, on the other ſide, reſolv'd not to be over-eaſily conquer'd; for when ſhe remembred how ſhe had been ſerv'd by Ruperio, it rais'd in her a certain fear of receiving the like affront from another. Before ſhe admitted his entrance into the Houſe, ſhe thought fit to make trial of his liberality. Of this ſhe was in a ſhort time pretty well ſatisfy'd, for Felician had been a prodigal all his Life, but upon this occaſion exceeded all he had done before, ſending her preſents of cloaths, jewels, and other things, beſides the expences he was at in treatments and collations: So that Rúfina was the moſt ſatisfy'd Woman in the world. 'Tis commonly ſaid, that the higher a Man's enjoyments are, the ſooner he is cloy'd, but it happen'd otherwiſe with Felician, for his affection to Rufina encreas'd daily, and came up to that height it could not well be greater.

It happen'd about this time, that Ruperio got at one time above ſix hundred Crowns at play. He went always very high in cloaths; but this unexpected good fortune made him ſomewhat exceed his former gawdineſs. But with that good, he had this ill fortune, to find out, that Felician was ſeen very often in the ſtreet where Rufina liv'd, and to infer thence, that he made ſome addreſſes to her. This jealouſie awoke the love he had ſometimes had for her; it troubled him that he ſhould have any Rival, and thereupon he reſolv'd to retrive himſelf into her favour, and repair the injury, he was now ſenſible, that he had done her. Upon this account, he paſs'd ſeveral times through her ſtreet, which caus'd not a little perplexity to Felician. Rufina was enrag'd to ſee that the Impoſtor had the impudence to make any pretence to her favour, after the notorious affront ſhe had receiv'd at his hands. She conſider'd there was no way to be rid of his importunities, but to engage her beloved Gallant Felician in her quarrel, by perſuading him, that Ruperio's deſign was to diſplace him out of her affection, which if he valued, he would find ſome means to check the inſolence of his Rival, and deliver her from his odious Courtſhip. See what employments Women do many times put on their Gallants! ſetting them on, like Cocks, to fight, till they have deſtroy'd one the other.

Rufina thought it not prudence to acquaint Felician with what had paſs'd between her and Ruperio. No, ſhe took a ſafer courſe: She told him, that Ruperio was continually importuning her with very advantageous proffers, which yet, for his ſake, ſhe ſlighted. Felician believ'd her, and that the rather, in regard he met him every day, and many times in the night, walking the rounds about his Miſtreſs's houſe. To incenſe him the more, ſhe added, that were it not for that troubleſome perſon, ſhe would ſee him oftner than ſhe did. There needed no more; Felician being thus enflam'd into jealouſie, met with Ruperio one night in his Miſtreſs's ſtreet, when he knew Rufina was a-bed, and her husband looking over ſome Accounts, which concern'd his Agency. As ſoon as Felician had perceiv'd Ruperio, he call'd him by his name, and having talk'd a little while together, to avoid the diſcovery of any quarrel in the Streets, he conducted to a little byplace, which happen'd to be over againſt the room where Saravia kept all his papers, and where he then was, very buſie looking over them. The two Rivals being come to the place, Felician addreſs'd himſelf thus to the other.

Signor Ruperio, I have for ſome days paſt obſerv'd, that you have frequented this ſtreet more than you ſhould have done, and I was ſomewhat at a loſs to know, what might occaſion your coming hither, in regard there are ſeveral Ladies of worth, which might oblige you thereto. But I have at laſt diſcover'd, that Madam Rufina is the cauſe of your diurnal and nocturnal haunts hereabouts; and this I am aſſur'd of, not only by what I have ſeen my ſelf, but alſo by the relation of her ſervants, to whom you ſpeak, and whom you would corrupt by preſents to introduce you into their Miſtreſs's favour. I have been her Servant a good while, and the ſervices I have done her have gain'd me her affection, ſo far that I have receiv'd the greateſt favours from her that I could expect. I am not a perſon much given to boaſt of my good fortunes; but to prevent your further progreſs in this affair, I am forc'd to make you this particular diſcovery, which I doubt not but you will entertain as a great ſecret, as every perſon of honour ought to do. I have acquainted you with my love, and the advantages I have made of it, to oblige you to forbear all applications to this Lady for the future. Which if you do, you will exempt your ſelf from many inconveniences, and eaſe me of thoſe reſentments, which I am now full of.

Ruperio hearkned very attentively to the diſcourſe of Felician, and Rufina's husband no leſs, hearing things that concern'd him ſo nearly. And yet though the ſtory he had heard was extreamly prejudicial to him, and could not but add very much to his diſquiet, yet muſt he needs ſtay to take Ruperio's Anſwer; which was to this effect.

Signor Felician, I cannot wonder at all, that you ſhould be ſo careful to obſerve, with what devotion I courted Madam Rufina, ſince you were ſo much concern'd in it as you tell me; and I believe you will be as little ſurpriz'd at my being engag'd in the ſame deſign, being, as I find you, ignorant what are the grounds of my Love, and the reaſons I have to proſecute it. I am as backward as your ſelf to proclaim the favours I receive from Ladies; but ſince you expreſs your ſelf ſo freely to me, I conceive my ſelf oblig'd to do the like to you, that you may think my procedure the leſs ſtrange. I was in this Lady's favour before you were, and I obtain'd of her the ſame thing you boaſt ſo much of: by ſome misfortune or other, I have loſt it, yet not ſo, as but that I hope, in time, I re-inſtate my ſelf into it again, which to do, aſſure your ſelf I ſhall do whatever lies in my power. If I prevail, and that ſhe will admit the continuance of my ſervices, as I hope ſhe may, your onely remedy is patience; for I am ſo far from quitting this pretenſion, that I ſhall do my utmoſt to prevent her giving any entertainment to yours, and bring her to ſuch a paſs, as not ſo much as remember, that you ever thought of her.

With that they both drew, Felician maintaining, that he onely ought to pretend to her, and Ruperio ſtanding upon the ſame tearms. The diſpute was ſoon ended, his Sword, who was in preſent poſſeſſion prov'd the more fortunate, Ruperio, by a thruſt through the heart, falling upon the place. The noiſe of the Swords was not very great, for Felician had done his work ſo ſuddenly, that none heard any thing of the quarrel, but onely Saravia, who, for his own reputation, would have kept it ſecret. That the Body might not lye in that place, Felician took it on his Shoulders, and laid it before a Monaſtery, and went for refuge into another, till he found what would be done in the buſineſs.

Saravia, aſtoniſh'd at what he had ſeen and heard, began to be enrag'd againſt his wife, contriving how to be reveng'd of a Woman, whoſe perfidiouſneſs was the more notorious, the greater reaſons ſhe had to be grateſul and loyal. She was faſt aſleep in her bed, never dreaming what had hapned in the ſtreets upon her account. The firſt thing came into Saravia's imagination, was altogether for revenge, to effect which his courſe would be, to go up ſtreight into her chamber, and to diſpatch her, in bed, with a dagger. But he conſider'd with himſelf, that the Murtherer having carried away the dead body from his door, he might be charg'd with killing her without any cauſe, and that he would want proof, as having for witneſs but two ſervant-maids, who were more likely to depoſe againſt him. He therefore reſolv'd, as the ſureſt way to diſpatch her, to give her a ſecret doſe of poiſon, ſuch as might remove her after a certain time: but he thought withal, that he ſhould not ſatisfie his own juſt reſentment, if he any longer delay'd a vengeance which requir'd immediate execution. He propos'd to himſelf another expedient, which was, to leave both City and Wife, and to go to ſome other place: but that deſign was ſoon over with him, he having many affairs undetermin'd, and fearing the ſiniſter judgments might have been paſs'd upon ſuch a reſolution, to the ſhame and confuſion of a man of his age and reputation. This reflection brought him to his firſt deſign of ſending her going with the ponyard. But before he executed that cruelty (which yet rightly taken was not any, but a juſt puniſhment for her offence) he thought it requiſite, ſor his own vindication, to leave, in writing, the reaſons, which had induc'd him to commit that murther. He took pen and ink, and began to ſet down the affront he had receiv'd from his wife, and the revenge he had taken: but upon ſecond thoughts, and imagining he had not ſufficiently expreſs'd the heinouſneſs of her crime, he tore what he had written; and this he did to the third time, ſo great were the confuſion and diſturbance of his thoughts. He ſet himſelf down to write the fourth time; but remembring that he was to begin his revenge with adulteries, and could not do it becauſe he knew not the ſeveral appellations thereof, he was at laſt ſatisfi'd, that he ſhould be ſufficiently reveng'd if he had but once diſpatch'd his wife. A good part of the night ſlipp'd away in theſe diſquiets, viz. in writing, correcting, blotting out again, and tearing all he had written. At laſt, being abſolutely reſolv'd in that rage to execute his deſign, he made another writing, without any blot, having before-hand well conſider'd what he ſhould ſet down; and when he had expreſs'd, the beſt he could, the injury he had receiv'd, he was o're-come by ſo preſſing a grief that he fell down and dy'd ſuddenly.

All this paſt, while Rufina flept. Awaking of a ſudden and not finding her husband in bed with her, ſhe call'd him, and ſeeing he made no Anſwer, ſhe put on her petticoat, and went into his cloſet, where ſhe found a candle lighted, and Saravia lying on the floor, dead. She was aſtoniſh'd, as well ſhe might; all ſhe could do was to call up her Maids, who immediately came to the ſight of this ſtrange ſpectacle. They were no leſs ſurpriz'd than their Miſtreſs at the ſtrangeneſs of the accident. As they were going to convey the Corps to one of the beſt rooms in the houſe (before the neighbours had any notice of the adventure) Rufina met with a paper, which ſeem'd to be not quite finiſh'd, wherein ſhe found theſe words.

That my juſtification may be the better known to all thoſe who ſhall read this paper, I declare, that all my unhappineſs proceeds from the lightneſs and inconſtancy of my infamous wife, who, profaning the holy Sacrament of Marriage, by the ſacred Tie whereof we were join'd together in the face of the Church, without any conſideration of the great affection I bore her, hath proſtituted her ſelf to two Gallants at the ſame time, whe having quarrel'd for the precedence, which either of them pretended to over his adverſary, the more unfortunate of the two was kill'd by the other, before the window of my houſe. Having thus been witneſs oſ my own diſgrace, and heard the whole ſtory of my diſhonour, it was but juſt I ſhould revenge my infamy, thus—Then ended the writing, for death ſurpriſing him at that word he immediately expir'd.

Rufina was extremely diſtracted at both what ſhe ſaw and what ſhe had read, ſo that, for half an hour, ſhe knew not in a manner where ſhe was, conſidering with her ſelf, that the greateſt ſecrets in the world will be diſcover'd at laſt, and that it is Heaven's pleaſure they ſhould be ſo, either for our reformation or our puniſhment. The death of her husband rais'd in her a certain mixture of fear and affliction: a fear, to ſee how ſudden it had been, occaſion'd by the reſentment of an injury which ſhe had done him; the affliction, to ſee her husband deprived of life, and her ſelf ignorant how to diſguiſe ſo unhappy an accident. A little remorſe of conſcience, like a qualm over her ſtomach, troubled her, that ſhe had been ſo perfidious to a man, who had lov'd her ſo well, and, by marrying her, had rais'd her from beggery to plenty. The great affection which the Neighbours knew that he had always born her, gave her a little confidence, and induc'd her to take the advice of one of her Maids, which was to carry her husband's body into his bed, and to cry out the next morning ſo loud, that the Neighbours might here it, whom ſhe might, by her exceſſive lamentations, perſuade, that ſhe had found him dead by her ſide when ſhe awoke; and that her two Maids, to carry on the cheat, ſhould give out that their Maſter had taken a ſurfeit, and died ſuddenly of it.

Having thus laid their deſign, day came, Rufina cried out, and lamented with all her might, and the next Neighbours came in, who found her halfdreſs'd, weeping, and tearing her hair through madneſs, that ſhe had loſt ſo good a husband. Her two Maids acted their parts very well, by relating the cauſe of their good Maſter's death, and ſaying, that they advis'd him not to eat ſo much, or that otherwiſe he muſt expect to repent it. All were ſatisfi'd with theſe reaſons, and ſome of Rufina's friends were buſie about her, out of a fear ſhe ſhould have ſwounded, ſo well did ſhe perſonate the afflicted Lady. They did all lay in their power to comfort her, who, amidſt all her grief, had not forgotten to burn the paper ſhe had found, leſt it might have prov'd a teſtimony of her miſcarriages. Some Officers from the Magiſtrate, who are never wanting upon ſuch occaſions, came in ſoon after, and upon the allegations of the Neighbours, that the deceas'd had ever liv'd very lovingly with his wife, went their ways, ſatisfi'd that ſhe had not any way contributed to his death. Saravia was buried, and Rufina was ſo put to it to act the part ſhe was then engag'd in, that ſhe thought not of doing what Widows commonly do upon ſuch occaſions, that is, to make the beſt proviſion they can for themſelves, out of what their husbands have left. So that one of his Nephews, as ſoon as the Uncle was buried, ſeiz'd on all in the houſe, and Rufina was forc'd to go to Law with him, to recover what ſhe might lawfully lay claim to.

Let us return to ſee what became of Ruperio's body. Being found in the morning by the religious Inhabitants of the Monaſtery, and not known by any of them, they were going, without ſans ceremonie, to burie it, had they not been prevented by a Citizen, who advis'd them to expoſe it in ſome publick place, that it might be known, and that if he were one that had father or mother, or friends in the City, that they might know the misfortune happen'd to him; that by that means, they would ſecure to themſelves the charges of his interment, as alſo the fees due for other prayers and devotions, in order to the repoſe of his ſoul. This advice pleas'd the Superiour of the Monaſtery, who immediately ſent word to the Magiſtrate, that they had found in the morning a young man dead at their Chutchdoor. The body was diſpos'd into a little place near the Monaſtery, with two lighted wax-candles, by which place there paſs'd by not long after a man that knew him. He told them who he was, and then went and carried that ſad news to his Friends, who were extremely troubled at his death, his Father having often foretold him, that he would come to ſuch an end; for, from the life he led, there could not any thing elſe be inferr'd. He was buried in the Monaſtery, and a ſtrict ſearch was made for him who had committed the murther: but Sevil being a vaſt and populous City, no diſcovery could be made of him. Onely Rufina knew who it was, by the abſence of her Gallant, Ruperio's death, and the paper ſhe found in her husband's cloſet. She was infinitely ſatisfi'd to ſee her ſelf reveng'd of a perſon, who had done her ſuch an affront; and it was a great happineſs to her, that no notice had been taken of the bloud, which the deceas'd had ſpilt at the place where he was kill'd. Had the Magiſtrate known of that, it would have brought her into ſome trouble, for the Neighbours would have teſtifi'd, that they had often ſeen thoſe two Rivals in that little ſtreet.

By this means Rufina is become a Widow, but withall poor and deſtitute of all accommodations, having onely the ſtock of her beauty to ſet her ſelf up again; and that, together with her honour (if it may be ſaid ſhe had any left) ſhe reſolv'd to proſtitute, that ſhe might live in ſome meaſure ſutably to what ſhe had done before. Saravia's Nephew, who had taken poſſeſſion of all his eſtate, was ſentenc▪d to pay Rufina ſomewhat upon the account of dower; but it was ſo inconſiderable, in reſpect of the expence ſhe was wont to be at, that ſhe was forc'd to leave the houſe ſhe was in and take one of a lower rent. Nor had this Nephew what he expected by being heir to his Uncle, for the eſtate was extremely perplex'd, ſo that having even'd▪ accounts with the Creditors, he had but little left for himſelf.

Rufina, having remov'd into another Quarter of the City, and being young, ſumptuous in cloaths, and perfectly handſome, did not as many other Widows are wont to do, who, as ſoon as their husbands are march'd off, dreſs themſelves as fine as hands can make them, and deriving a little advantage from their mourning ſeek out opportunities to ſhew themſelves to the Gallants purely out of a deſign to get other husbands. But ours, though young, had had ſo great experience, that ſhe reſolv'd to play another game, and that no ſmall one.

There was come in the Fleet from Peru a man born amidſt the Mountains of Leon, who had begun his fortune by the relation of a Servant to a Merchant of Sevil, and one who, upon his Maſter's coſt, and ſome little trading into the Indies, was grown rich, inſomuch that within few years, he was accounted one of the ableſt Merchants that traded to Peru. He makes another voiage thither, being advanc'd to a certain publick employment, and having thereby added much to his wealth, he was return'd again to Sevil, in that years Fleet, where he ſold the commodities he had brought over at double what they had coſt him; ſo fortunate was he in all his ventures.

Marquina (ſo was this lucky Merchant call'd) was a perſon of about fifty years of age; the moſt covetous and wretched'ſt natur'd fellow that ever was. He grudg'd himſelf what he eat and drunk, though even below moderation; nay he many times faſted purpoſely to ſpare ſo much. He had no more ſervants than he needed; his whole Train conſiſted in a Factor, a Lacquey, a Moor-ſlave, who look'd to his Mule, and a Maid to dreſs his pitiful Commons. He kept his Family ſo ſhort in point of victuals, that it was wondred any one would ſerve him; his Miſerdiſpoſition found the whole City diſcourſe; another would have been aſham'd of it, but he onely laugh'd at it, applauding himſelf, and making it his whole buſineſs to heap up wealth, whereof he had abundance.

Rufina hearing this account of him, began to conſider all the circumſtances, and after ſhe had a little reflected thereon, ſhe concluded, that he might be made an excellent Cully, whom if ſhe could ſmite, as ſhe expected, her condition would be better than ever it had been. Marquina liv'd without the City, in a little Tenement he had purchas'd of one who ought him ſome mony, which he knew not well how to get in otherwiſe; for he was naturally ſo perfect a ſlave to his profit, that he little minded his pleaſures. So that he got that Tenement, with a neat houſe on it, very cheap, and in ſatisfaction for his debt; it ſtood near S. Bernard's Monaſtery, in the midſt of a pleaſant valley. He liv'd here to ſpare the rent of a houſe in the City; he had ſo fortifi'd it, that no thieves, either by day or night, could make any breach into it; all the doors were of extraordinary thickneſs, the windows had bars and grates, the walls very high and very ſtrong. He had ſecur'd the place within with many fire-Arms, which he always kept charged, Halbards, and Partiſans, which were diſpos'd near the gate. He was forc'd to take one perſon more into his retinue, to wit, a fellow to order his Garden, and to make the beſt advantage he could of it, a married man, who ſhould carry the fruits and other things to the market to make the beſt of them, ſo vigilant was his Avarice. His treaſure was diſpos'd into a ſecret place behind his bed where he lay himſelf, in ſtrong iron cheſts; and every night before he went to bed, he, like an over-doing Conſtable, ſearch'd all the rooms in the houſe. Thus did this wrerched fellow live, though he had no children to ſucceed him, for he had never been married, nor intended to be, though very advantageous Matches were daily proffer'd him.

Rufina had laid her deſign to bring in this covetous Merchant into the nooſe, and to effect it, ſhe communicated it to a perſon who was excellent at ſuch things, and an ancient acquaintance of her Father's Signor Trapaſſa. This man had plaid ſome pranks at Madrid, which had occaſion'd his removal thence to Cadiz, and his atchievments there, his departure thence to Sevil, where he went lurking up and down, and ſpending ſome mony, which it had coſt him more hazard than pains to get. He was one of the moſt accompliſh'd men in point of Thievery of his time, but very fearful of falling into the hands of Juſtice, leſt there might riſe up in judgment againſt him ſome of his former offences; which were ſuch as had preferr'd him to the Galleys, where he had made acquaintance with Trapaſſa, and had continu'd it at Sevil. This perſon (whoſe name was Garay), Rufina took to aſſiſt her in the compaſſing of her deſign. Having given him inſtructions what he was to do, and told him, that Marquina return'd not to his houſe, till about Sun-ſet, as he was wont to do, they both paſs'd by Marquina's garden, he on a Mule, and ſhe on a good Horſe. She had put off her Mourning, and put on another dreſs, with a hat and feather, as the Sevil-Ladies are wont to go, when they are in the Country.

They paſs'd by the Garden, juſt as the Gardener was opening the door. Garay coming up to him, Friend, ſaid he, here is a Lady would not willingly go into the City to day, if you will afford her entertainment this night. I will ſatisfie you to your own deſires; beſides that you will do us an ex • raordinary kindneſs, for you will thereby prevent a great misfortune which ſhe cannot otherwiſe avoid. The Gardener, who was afraid of his Maſte • s diſpleaſure, told him that he durſt not be ſo bold, as to receive any perſon into his houſe, without his knowledge, though he had not expreſly forbidden him the doing of any ſuch thing. But Garay, who knew the vertue and power of mony, took a conſiderable ſum out of his pocket, and giving it to the Gardener, Here, friend, ſaid he, take this in earneſt of more. The Gardener's wife longing to know what buſineſs they might have with her husband, comes up to them, and ſeeing the proffers were made him, undertook to lodge the Gentlewoman in her own room, making it appear to her husband, that their Maſter ſhould never come to the knowledge of it, in regard their houſes were at a good diſtance one from the other, and that they ſhould not be ſo unhappy, as that he would that night ſearch the whole houſe, as many times a toy took him in the head to do.

In fine the wife's arguments prevail'd, ſo that the Gardener was content the Gentlewoman ſhould lodge ſecretly that night at his houſe, upon the receipt of ſix Ryals which Garay gave him as an earneſt of a greater ſumme promis'd him. He thereupon took down Rufina off the horſe, and brought her into the Garden, where ſhe took leave of Garay, who had already receiv'd the orders whereof we ſhall give an account hereafter.

Being come into the Gardener's room, ſhe took off what cover'd her face, and aſtoniſh'd the Gardener and his wife at the ſight of her beauty, though ſhe ſeem'd to be very melancholy, as if ſome great misfortune had happened to her, to wit, that which ſhe had ready to relate to Marquina, in caſe ſhe might come to ſpeech with him. The Sun was hardly ſet, but he came into the Garden: the Negro entring a little before to have the door opened, which he himſelf lock'd on the inſide, and carried the key along with him. He chanc'd to be that night a little more weary than he us'd, which occaſion'd his going to bed very betimes, after he had eaten a piece of bread, and ſome of his own Garden fruits, and waſh'd them down with a glaſs of ſpring-water. He onely viſited that part of the houſe where he lodg'd himſelf, and came not down to the Gardener's, which eſcap'd not his privy ſearch, when he thought of it. His family, who kept more faſting-days in the year, than the Church her ſelf had appointed, ſupp'd that night, in imitation of the Maſter, very ſoberly.

Marquina gets up the next morning betimes, and gives the Slave mony to go to the market, while he went about his affairs in the City, with order to have dinner ready againſt his return. Rufina was at a loſs how to compaſs her deſign, finding things fell not out according to her expectation: but ſtill waiting the opportunity, ſhe told her entertainers that ſhe was extremely troubled at her Uncle's ſtay (ſo ſhe called Garay) and that all her ſadneſs proceeded thence. The Gardener's wife, who was a good hearty woman, found her all the diverſion ſhe could.

Marquina comes home at noon, with an intention to dine in his garden, and before he ſate down, he would needs take a turn about it, to ſee if any thing were wanting; and he obſerv'd that there wanted ſome pieces of wood for the more convenient watering of the ſeveral Knots. As he was going to the Gardeners to ſee if he had any fit for that purpoſe, the wife perceiving him coming, very haſtily ſhuffled Rufina into a little back-room, where ſhe was wont to lie: but in regard it could not be done ſo ſuddenly, but that Marquina coming in might hear the ruffling of the ſilks, and ſee Rufina's ſhadow, he ſteps into the room where ſhe was retir'd, and having found her, he led her out by the hand, and bringing her into the light, he found her ſo beautiful, that he was aſtoniſh'd thereat. The Gardeners wife wonder'd, that her Maſter, inſtead of chiding her, as ſhe expected, onely ask'd her who the Lady was. She anſwer'd, that, the night before, paſſing by their door with an ancient Gentleman, who ſeem'd as ſad as her ſelf, they had very earneſtly intreated ſhe might be lodg'd there but that night, to avoid a great misfortune, which would have hapned to them, if they had gone any further.

While the Gardener's wife was giving Marquina this account, he very attentively conſider'd the ſtrange Lady, who ſeem'd to be extremely troubled in mind, which added to the attractions of her Beauty. Marquina was ſo taken therewith, that diſcarding his unſociable and covetous humour, he told the Gardener's wife, that ſhe had done very well, in entertaining that Lady, though contrary to his orders, which in ſuch a caſe were not to be obſerv'd, where compaſſion and charity plead for the relief of thoſe that are in trouble. This Lady, ſaid he, deſerves a better reception than ſhe hath found in your poor lodgings, I heartily proffer her my houſe, if ſhe will but honour it with her preſence. Rufina thank'd him very civilly for his obliging proffers, and intreated him to allow her the privacy of ſome other lodging, for the little time ſhe had to ſtay there, in regard ſhe expected an Uncle of hers to come and fetch her away that night.

Marquina, who began to be enflam'd, was ſorry to hear that her ſtay at his houſe would be ſo ſhort, but after a little pauſe, he told her, that though it were but for an hour, ſhe would infinitely oblige him, in the acceptation of the proffer he made her with ſo much affection. She, who expected that cue all the while, told him, that, to make ſome return to ſo great civilities, ſhe was ready to wait on him. With that ſhe went to Marquina's apartment, whither he led her by the hand, to the great ſatisfaction of the Gardener's wife, who extremely wondred to ſee her Maſter, contrary to his cuſtom, of a civil and obliging humour. As ſhe paſs'd through the rooms, ſhe took particular notice of all things; for though Marquina were naturally a very covetous perſon, yet, as to the furniture of his houſe, he was otherwiſe. He had very rich Tapeſtry, Chairs ſutable thereto, and Cabinets of Ivory and Ebony, nay indeed many things brought out of the Indics, which though they coſt him not much there, are here of very great price. He immediately commanded his Slave to prepare an excellent dinner, an employment he undertook with great alacrity, as knowing he might make ſome advantage of that extraordinary liberality of his Maſter. Rufina din'd with him, who treated her ſtill with the beſt the Table afforded, with importunate excuſes that there were no better for her.

As ſoon as they had din'd, he conducted her into a chamber, ſet forth with a great number of excellent pictures, where there was alſo a ſumptuous bed, of China-work, and intreated her to repoſe her ſelf on it, a cuſtom the Spaniards have in Summer, as ſoon as they have din'd, by reaſon of the ſultrineſs of the Country. He intreated alſo to give her diſquiet ſome remiſſion, out of an aſſurance, that ſhe ſhould be as ſafe in his houſe as in any Sanctuary, and that ſhe ſhould not want any thing lay in his power. She again return'd him her moſt affectionate thanks, and complying with his deſires, ſhe ſtaid alone in the room, which was the ſame where Marquina took his repoſe every day. He went into another, where he laid himſelf down, much troubled and diſquieted, as being fallen deeply in love with his fair Gueſt, and not knowing by what means he might induce her to favour him in what he deſir'd of her, which if he could effect, he concluded himſelf the happieſt man in the world. Before he acquainted her with his deſign, he was deſirous to know the cauſe of her grief, and what might occaſion her ſtopping at his Garden, and thereby find whether there were any obſtruction that might oppoſe his deſires to ſerve her. To be ſatisfi'd in this, it was requiſite he ſtaid till ſhe aw • ke; but ſhe ſlept not at all, for ſhe ſpent the time in conſidering, what Anſwer ſhe ſhould make him, when he came to queſtion her.

Marquina thinking it now time to ſpeak to her, in order to the ſatisfaction of his curioſity, goes into her chamber, telling her it was a cloſe day, and that he was afraid ſhe might over-ſleep her ſelf, and craving her pardon that he had taken the boldneſs to give her that caution. She thank'd him for the tenderneſs he had for her health, and aſſur'd him, that ſhe had not refreſh'd her ſelf at all, the trouble ſhe was in not permitting her to take any reſt. He begg'd of her that ſhe would no longer ſmother the cauſe of her diſquiet, and renew'd the proffers he had made to ſerve her to the utmoſt of his power. Having return'd him her thanks, and thinking it now time to make ſome progreſs in her deſign, ſhe gave him this relation of her adventures.

The concluſion of this diſmal ſtory, which Rufina had had the time to invent and ſtudy ſo well, was a ſhower of Crocodile-tears, which rais'd ſuch a compaſſion in Marquina, that he could not forbear them himſelf. The ſubtle Baggage, who notwithſtanding her counterfeit tears obſerv'd all the actions of Marquina, perceiv'd that he gave credit to her feign'd ſtory, and that Love began to enter at that breach which compaſſion had made in his heart. This encourag'd Rufina to proſecute her impoſture, being now in a manner confident to bring it to ſome effect. They continu'd a good while together, ſhe weeping, as if ſhe had done it for a wager, and he endeavouring all he could to comfort her: but that comfort came not up to the height of offering her the remedy ſhe could have wiſh'd, for he had not yet overcome his covetous humour.

Having with great attention conſider'd the great beauty of Rufina, her affliction, and ſtrange adventures, and that this happineſs was as it were fallen into his mouth, he inferr'd that Heaven, as a ſignal addition to his former happineſs, had directed her to his Houſe. This was the firſt love that had ever mov'd Marquina's heart, and, in all ſorts of perſons that firſt paſſion ever acts violently. Is Marquina fallen in love? He muſt needs then be liberal. Hath he entertain'd Rufina into his Houſe? That kindneſs will be the deareſt to him that he ever did. O Love! O inſinuating Paſſion, who doſt bewitch the World, who doſt ruine and beſet Men! what Metamorphoſes doſt thou not work in them? what Diſpoſitions doſt thou not change? what Reſolutions doſt thou not diſpence with? what Felicities doſt thou not diſturb? And what Hearts is it not in thy power to ſoften? That of this inſatiable Miſer, which had caſt off all ſenſe of humanity towards his neareſt Relations, love hath chang'd; ſo that he hath transform'd a covetous and ſordid Perſon into a liberal and magnificent. He is extreamly taken with Rufina; he is paſſionately in love with her; ſhe will ere long be Miſtreſs of his heart and wealth. She ſaid many things in her relation, which might have betray'd her, had not the affection, wherewith Marquina hearkened to her, clos'd both his Eyes and Ears: nay, he was ſo prepoſſeſs'd with his paſſion, that he would have believ'd many other things from her, though they had been more improbable than they were.

The effect of this ſad narration of Rufina, was, that Marquina proffer'd her all the favour and aſſiſtance ſhe could expect from him, his Eſtate, Life, Heart and Soul, giving her the title of abſolute Miſtreſs of all he was poſſeſs'd of, further entreating her, of all love, to give over thinking of her misfortunes, and aſſure her ſelf that ſhe was in a Houſe where ſhe might command, and that what ever ſhe deſir'd, her orders ſhould be obey'd, as far as it lay in his power. Rufina very kindly thank'd him for ſo many generous proffers, concluding her complement with a freſh ſhower of tears, a kind of tempeſt ſhe could raiſe, when ever ſhe either pleas'd, or ſtood in need thereof.

With theſe artifices, ſhe became Miſtreſs of Marquina and all he had, ſo as that ſhe might diſpoſe of him and it, as ſhe pleas'd. Her beauty had given him a kind of Itch, and he was mighty deſirous to try whether ſhe would be as willing to cure him of it: but he knew not well how to acquaint her with his indiſpoſition; he reſolv'd at laſt, in caſe he could do no good upon her by his ſubmiſſions and preſents, to uſe the laſt remedy, which was to Marry her. This is a Bait that many times takes the ſhyeſt of that ſubtle Sex; but when they are ſo taken, he that does it is commonly ſnapp'd himſelf. I told you before, that Rufina had no other deſign than to examine the Cheſts of the greedy Merchant, and that ſhe would not be any way engag'd till ſhe were ſecure of her prize; for the raſcally trick ſhewn by Ruperio, had made her extreamly diſtruſtful.

Marquina ſtaid all that day in his Garden, and neglected his buſineſs in the City; but the next morning betimes, leaving his Gueſt aſleep, he takes his Mule, and goes about his ordinary occaſions, having charg'd the Gardener's Wife, to get a good breakfaſt for the Lady, as ſoon as ſhe were awake, and to have a care of the Houſe. He lock'd the Chamber-door where his Money was, and as he went out, charg'd the Gardener not to ſuffer any to come into his Garden, but the Old man who had brought Theodora thither, for that was the name the diſſembling Rufina had given her ſelf.

That done, he went about his buſineſs, attended by the little Negro, whom he gave Money to buy Proviſions for a good Dinner. Rufina got up, and the Gardener's wife punctually obey'd the orders ſhe had receiv'd from her Maſter, treating her the beſt ſhe could, out of this reſpect, that all the Domeſticks made their advantage of thoſe magnificences. Rufina comes down into the Garden, where ſhe took occaſion to commend the walks, and contrivances of it, for the Gardener kept it in very good order, and well ſupply'd with herbs, fruits, and flowers. Finding the Sun beginning to grow hot, ſhe went into the Houſe, where caſually meeting with a Lute, on which Marquina's factor was wont to play, ſhe ſet it in Tune, and made that her entertainment, till ſuch time as Marquina return'd from the City, who hearing her at it, was not a little glad to find that perfection in her more than he knew before. Perceiving that Marquina hearkened to her Muſick, ſhe joyn'd her Voice to the Inſtrument, to breed one maggot more in his brain than he had already. She ſung ſo excellently, that Marquina was raviſh'd at the melody, and acknowledg'd that it was not the Voice of a mortal Creature, but an Angel come down from Heaven. He continu'd his attention a while, imagining ſhe would have begun another Song; but perceiving ſhe laid by the Lute, he comes into the Room, and, tranſported with joy, How hath this poor Habitation been felicify'd, ſaid he to her, by your retirement into it, moſt adorable Theodora? What happineſs did the hour of your arrival here bring me who never had known any before? What honour have I receiv'd in beholding your tranſcendent Beauty, and to obſerve in you from time to time a thouſand unknown excellencies which are not diſcover'd at the firſt ſight? This houſe may, no doubt, enter into competition with Heaven it ſelf, ſince ſuch an Angel honours it with her divine preſence. What I ſay, Madam, is but little, in compariſon of the paſſion I have for your worth, which were it to be commended proportionably to the apprehenſion I have of it, I think the moſt eloquent perſons that ever were, would be at a loſs for expreſſions ſuitable to ſo adorable a ſubject. You preſs too hard upon me, Dear Sir, replies the counterfeit Theodora, ſeeming to bluſh at thoſe exceſſive praiſes; I am not ſuch a ſtranger to my ſelf, but that I know it argues exceſs in the higheſt degree, to beſtow ſuch extraordinary commendations, on a perſon that deſerves ſo little. Had I miſtruſted your being within hearing, I would have put off my diverſion to another time, ſince 'tis not unlikely my Voice may ſeem harſh to you, compar'd to the excellent ones of this City, which you often hear, unleſs it be, that generous natures have an inclination to favour perſons of mean parts, by flattering them, by their praiſes, into an imagination, that their endowments are greater than indeed they are. No more complements, I beſeech you, replies Marquina, rais'd up to the higheſt pitch of beſotted Love, my words come ſhort of my faith, and I am to aſſure you withall, Madam, that though I have heard excellent Voices in Sevil, (for I muſt confeſs there are ſome ſuch) yet yours is infinitely beyond any of them. Your moſt humble Servant, Sir, ſays Rufina, your commendations are infinitely beyond my deſerts, and the honour you do me can do no leſs than raiſe in me a hearty wiſh, that my poor abilities might find you ſome further diverſion with this Inſtrument, ſince you are pleas'd to acknowledge your ſelf ſo much ſatisfy'd therewith: But my troubles are ſo great and preſſing, that in what I did, I minded onely my own. I muſt ſee them at an end, ere you leave this Houſe, ſays Marquina to her, and therefore let me intreat you, if you cannot conclude an abſolute peace with your afflictions, at leaſt condeſcend to a ſhort ceſſation of arms.

Theſe reiterations of your favours muſt needs extreamly oblige me, replies Rufina, and conſequently force me to a greatful compliance with your commands, as far as lies in my power: but I cannot promiſe it you ſo fully as I wiſh, finding the perſon who brought me hither, hath forgotten he did it, otherwiſe he would have found ſome means to have given me a Viſit once in three days. Let not that create you any trouble, replies the amorous Merchant, but rather imagine there may be ſome juſt cauſe of his neglect. I have ſome apprehenſion, ſaid ſhe, that he may be return'd to Granada, out of a fear, that, being miſs'd there, he might be queſtion'd as a Complice of my eſcape; and this would prove the greateſt of all my misfortunes, for if he be gone, he hath carried all I had along with him. Never fear it, ſays Marquina, for he muſt have more compaſſion than to forſake you in ſo great an extremity; but though he and all elſe fail you, aſſure your ſelf, I ſhall not, whereof I cannot give you a greater aſſurance, than you may derive from this ſincere proteſtation, of my being ſo paſſionately your Servant, that I imagine not my ſelf to be the ſame perſon I was before I ſaw you. This transformation is wholly to be attributed to your Divinity, and thence you may inferr the influence you have over me.

Having ſo ſaid, Marquina made an abſolute diſcovery of his Love; the cunning Gypſie pretending ſhe underſtood not his meaning, return'd civil Anſwers to the proffers he made her, acknowledging her ſelf extreamly oblig'd to him for his kindneſs, and that ſhe doubted not of the performance of what he was pleas'd, out of his own good nature to promiſe. By this time, Dinner was ſet on the Table; they both ſat down, and the entertainment was very noble, ſuitable to the Love of the Founder; for where that little Deity comes once to reign, the firſt Act he makes, is for the baniſhment of all baſeneſs and avarice.

Rufina and Garay had agreed together, that he ſhould come to her, when he were ſure the old Merchant was abroad, and that he ſhould diſguiſe himſelf like a Beggar, that he might not be known, nor any ſuſpition be conceiv'd of him. She had ſtudied ſeveral ways to chouſe the Merchant of ſome part of his Treaſure, but ſhe could not fix on any one ſhe thought might prove effectual, the Chamber where it was Lock'd being extreamly fortify'd. She had continu'd there three days ere ſhe had either ſeen or heard from Garay, and during the time, ſhe expreſs'd ſo great a diſcontent, as put Marquina to much trouble, in regard it kept him from making thoſe free diſcoveries of his Love, which he would otherwiſe have done. In the mean time Rufina, who watch'd all occaſions, cunningly diſcover'd the place where the Old man hid the Keys of his Iron cheſts.

Marquina went, according to his cuſtom, into the City, which being obſerv'd by Garay, he comes to his Houſe in Beggars weeds, as they had agreed together, with two Crutches. Being got under the Window, at which Rufina was looking out, he begg'd an alms of her. She threw him down ſomething, and ask'd him whence he came, whereto Garay anſwering that he was of Granada, ſhe ſeem'd to be extreamly glad, and thereupon turning to the Gardener's wife, Let us go down a little into the Garden, ſaid ſhe to her, this poor fellow is come out of my Country, I would fain have ſome diſcourſe with him, to know what news he hath brought thence. The poor Woman ſuſpecting nothing, made no difficulty to let him into the Garden. Rufina ask'd him how long it was ſince he had left Granada; whereto he anſwering, about nine or ten days, ſhe continu'd her queſtions ſo long, that the Gardener's wife weary of their diſcourſe, and having ſomething elſe to do, left them. Being rid of her, they conſider'd what was to be put in execution the night following, and agreed upon the courſe they were to take, to poſſeſs themſelves of Marquina's Treaſure.

That done, Garay departed, and Rufina went up to her Chamber, telling the Gardener's wife, ſhe had underſtood ſo much from that poor fellow, concerning her affairs, that it would not be long ere ſhe return'd into her Country. The Gardener's wife, and the Maid were little pleas'd to hear that news, as fearing their Maſter would, upon her departure, re-aſſume his niggardly humour, and keep as miſerable a a houſe as he had done before, nay haply put himſelf and all the ſervants to a greater penance in their diet, to get up what had been ſquander'd away, during her aboad there.

Marquina being come home found Rufina that night more cheerful than at any time before; which gave him the confidence to acquaint her more freely with his love then he had done, and to aſſure her of the diſquiet he was in upon her account. Rufina ſeem'd not to take it amiſs, nay by a greater familiarity then ſhe had expreſs'd towards him before, ſhe rais'd in him ſome hopes of ſeeing his deſires ſatisfi'd: whence the old dotard began to preſume, that the fort would in a ſhort time be taken in upon reaſonable tearms. Upon this preſumption, he beſtow'd on her a Ring, which he had purpoſely bought for her, wherein was a Diamond worth about an hundred crowns, ſet about with little Rubies. The Lady gave him many thanks for ſo noble a preſent, and in requital promis'd him a Leſſon on the Lute, to which ſhe ſung ſome new Aires, though ſhe quarrell'd at the dulneſs of the Inſtrument. Marquina promis'd her a better the next day. They parted for that time, but with different thoughts, Marquina deſirous to obtain thoſe favours he expected from Rufina, and to oblige her thereto by preſents, which overcome the greateſt difficulties; and Rufina contriving how to compaſs the robbery ſhe intended.

The next day, Garay (a perſon of great experience in ſuch deſigns) got ſome others of the ſame profeſſion to carry on the work; and having obſerv'd Marquina going into his houſe, they ſtaid till he were gone to bed, which was ſomewhat late, for Rufina, who held a correſpondence with them, had purpoſely kept him up. About midnight, Garay and his Camerades brought a thing that had the figure of a man, ſtuff'd with ſtraw, having about him a cloak, which caſt over his ſhoulder, cover'd his face, and pitch'd it over againſt the principal window towards the garden, which was that part of the houſe where Marquina lodg'd, and left it there faſtned to a ſtake they had thruſt into the ground. The night was ſomewhat dark, and ſo more proper for their deſign. Having plac'd that figure, as I told you, they knock'd at the door ſo loud that it might have been heard from one end of the Garden to the other. Marquina awaken'd thereby leaps out of his bed, it being ſtrange to him to hear ſuch knocking at his garden door, at ſuch an unſeaſonable time, as being a thing had never happen'd to him before. He call'd up his ſervant, and bid him ſee who knock'd at the door. The ſervant went out between ſleeping and waking to ſee what the matter was, calling as loud as he could, Who knocks there? But no body anſwering, and he not minding the figure that ſtood in the garden, told his Maſter that there was not any body.

Marquina upon that got into bed again and compos'd himſelf to reſt, but it was ſoon interrupted, for Garay knock'd more violently than he had done before, which aſtoniſh'd him the more, and oblig'd him to ſend down his m • n a ſecond time, to ſee what the matter was. Bringing his Maſter the ſame account he had done before, he got up himſelf, puts his cloak about him, and calls at the window, Who knocks at my door thus unſeaſonably? Whereto no Anſwer being made, he grew the more enrag'd; but looking a little more earneſtly about the houſe than his man had done, he perceiv'd the figure planted before his windows. Marquina was extremely afraid, at the ſight of a perſon, who, as he thought, knock'd at his door, yet made him no anſwer, and aſſuming more courage than he was naturally Maſter of, he ſaid to him very loud, 'Tis baſely done of you, Sir, to abuſe me thus, you ſhall find I am not a perſon to ſuffer it; pray keep on your way, and diſturb not my reſt any more, if you think not your ſelf invulnerable, and that a brace of good bullets will make no impreſſion in your inchanted skin.

Having made that bravado he ſhut to the window and went to bed; but he was hardly got warm in it, ere they began to knock more violently than they had done before; which oblig'd him to take a fire-lock, which he kept always ready charg'd for the ſecurity of his mony. Opening the window, he found ſtill in the ſame poſture, him, who would not have ſtirr'd out of it, had he not been forc'd by ſome other. What obſtinacy of impudence is it in you, ſaid he to him, very much incens'd, to do a miſchief, you are nothing the better for, in thus diſturbing my reſt? 'tis impardonable, and deſerves an exemplary chaſtiſement; be you gone immediately from my door, or I ſhall ſend you going the next way. Whereupon cocking the fire-lock, and aiming at him, and the other never ſtirring, as it were out of a preſumption, that he had not any fire-arms, wherewith he might make good his threats, he gave him notice the third time, that he would not oblige him to do a violence which he was unwilling to do. At laſt perceiving he minded not any thing he ſaid, but as 'twere defi'd him, he reſolv'd to give fire, not onely to frighten him, but, if he could, to hurt him. He ſhot, and the figure fell to the ground, upon which Garay, who was not far off, cries out with a doleful tone, O God, I am kill'd; and immediately he and his Camerades made a great noiſe at the ſight of a man ſo unfortunately murther'd.

Marquina was extremely troubled at what he had done, it being obſerv'd, that covetous perſons are for the moſt part cowardly, and extremely fear what-ever may cauſe them any loſs. He ſhut the window, and in a great fright awaking Rufina (who had greater things to mind than ſleeping) told her what he had done. She ſeem'd to be extremely troubled at it, and much blam'd him, that he had executed ſo cruel a reſolution. For since he knew himſelf to be ſafe enough in his own houſe, he might have ſuffer'd them to knock at his door till they had been weary; that he had better endur'd that noiſe, and loſt a little of his reſt, than be in the trouble he was in, that he had been the cauſe of a man's death. She added ſeveral other reaſons, which ſo confounded poor Marquina, that he knew not what to do. She advis'd him for his ſafety, to go immediately and take refuge in the Monaſtery of St. Bernard, it being certain, that if the dead perſon were found there the next morning, he would be carried to priſon, as being murther'd ſo near his houſe. Marquina was ſo perplex'd, that he wiſh'd he had never come into the world; and it is to be imagin'd, that if Rufina had not been very highly concern'd to diſſemble upon this occaſion, she would have dy'd with laughing. He rais'd up all his people, and told them what had happen'd, and all blam'd him, for his being ſo forward to commit ſuch an action, which made the poor old dotard almoſt mad. He imagin'd himſelf already apprehended, his mony carri'd away, and but a ſmall matter between him and hanging, at leaſt if he were oblig'd by tortures to acknowledge his crime, never conſidering that it was pardonable for one man to kill another in his own defence. At laſt, he reſolv'd to go to S. Bernard's; but knew not how to diſpoſe of his mony. He thought it no prudence to leave it at the diſcretion of his Servants; to carry it to a friend's houſe (in caſe he had any, for perſons of his humour have very few) he had not time. In this diſtraction he deſir'd Rufina to adviſe him; ſhe ſeeming very much troubled, and no leſs fearful than he, pretended ſhe could not give him any; but after a little pauſe ſhe gave him that advice, which ſhe had prepar'd long before, and he follow'd it. She ask'd him what mony he might have in the houſe? He ingenuouſly confeſs'd that he had about four thouſand crowns in gold, and ſomewhat better than half the ſaid ſumme in ſilver. I'l tell you what I would do, were I in your caſe, ſays the ſubtil Picara, (ſince it cannot be carried to a friend's houſe without being ſeen) I would burie it in the garden, in ſome place, where you may afterwards find it, by ſome mark you ſhall ſet to that purpoſe. This you muſt do your ſelf, ſo as that your very ſervants may not know any thing of it, leſt they might be tempted to prove falſe to you; for the times are ſuch now, that a man muſt have a care whom he truſts. I would aſſiſt you herein, and keep your counſel, were it not that I am afraid, when the ſearch comes to be made, and I be left here, I ſhall be the firſt taken; and I would be loath to run my ſelf into that hazard, having but juſt eſcap'd thoſe I have acquainted you with. In the midſt of his affliction, Marquina was troubled to perceive by his gueſt's diſcourſe, the diſturbance ſhe was in upon his account, and what ſtruck him moſt to the heart, was, that he ſaw himſelf upon the point of loſing her. This conſideration forc'd from him not onely tears, but alſo bitter exclamations againſt the malicious croſsneſs of his fortune. Rufina deſir'd him to be of good courage, perſuading him to do as ſhe advis'd him, and hope the beſt. So that having commanded all his ſervants to go to their ſeveral chambers, and not to ſtir thence, he and Rufina, whom onely he durſt truſt, went to the place where the mony was. It lay in a huge cheſt, cover'd all over with iron-bars, and the keys were ſo extraordinary, that it was impoſſible to counterfeit them, or to get a piece thence by any other wile than what was invented by our ſubtil Ferret.

They firſt took out all the ſilver, and then put the gold into a little box, and, having brought all into the garden, they made two holes, at ſome diſtance one from the other, in one whereof they put the ſilver, and in the other, the gold, ſetting a mark that they might find the places again. Marquina took along with him two hundred crowns in gold, and gave Rufina fifty, to ſhift for her ſelf, till the buſineſs were accommodated.

That done, they went up into the houſe, whence they might ſee ſeveral perſons walking with a light; 'twas Garay and his camerades, who repreſented the Magiſtrate, which Rufina ſhewing him, advis'd him to make all the haſte he could to St. Bernard's. To do that, they got over the garden wall, as being afraid to open the door, for they perceiv'd the actors of this comedy kept a watch there, with ſuch authority, as if they had really been the Officers of Juſtice. All Marquina's family follow'd him over the wall, fearing they might come into trouble for their Maſter's fault. Marquina and his Miſtreſs lurk'd ſomewhere thereabouts, till it was day, that they might have the Church-door open, to get into the Monaſtery. Garay was hard by, to ſee what became of Marquina and his people. Finding he had left his houſe, and got into the Monaſtery with Rufina, he went about an hour after Sun-riſing to St. Bernard's, in the habit of a Secular Prieſt, that he might the better ſpeak to Rufina. She told him how things ſtood, and how they had buried the mony in the garden, and that it was all in ſilver, intending to reſerve all the gold for her ſelf.

About mid-night Garay and one of his Camerades went along with Rufina, diſguiz'd in man's cloaths, to the garden. They help'd her over firſt, to go and ſee whether there might be any body in the houſe, but all were vaniſh'd as if the houſe had been viſited. She thereupon call'd Garay and his companion, and, having taken up the mony, they carri'd it away, and took up their quarters at one of the fartheſt Inns of the ſuburbs. Having been merry a while, and drunk their own healths, and to the good ſucceſs of their future deſigns, they went all to bed, the two men together, and Rufina by her ſelf. As ſoon as she found they were aſleep, ſhe puts on the ſame habit, and returns to the garden. She took up the little box of gold, and, without any diſaſter, got ſafe to the Inn before her companions awaked.

The next day, having divided the ſilver, whereof ſhe and Garay had the beſt part, and ſew'd up the gold in her cloaths, ſhe left Sevit, taking Garay along with her, who, finding what advantages he might make of her company, reſolv'd to run fortunes with her. They took their way towards Madrid, to which place they will be got, by that time we ſhall ſee what is become of Marquina, whom we left in St. Bernard's Monaſtery.

Having continu'd there four days after Rufina's departure from him, he knew not what to think of her that ſhe came not again, as ſhe had promis'd. He addreſs'd himſelf to one of the Monks, who had great acquaintances in the City, and intreated him to inquire what proceedings there might be againſt him, upon the murther he had committed. The Religious man promis'd him an account of it; but having enquir'd at thoſe places where he might moſt probably hear thereof, no body could give him any ſatisfaction. He thereupon told Marquina, that he might ſafely go abroad and needed not to fear any thing. He went out one night to a friend's of his, whom he acquainted with all that had paſt, as alſo the great perplexity he was in, deſiring him to make a more particular enquiry into the buſineſs, than he thought the Religious man had done. He did ſo, and gave him the ſame account as the other. Yet would not that ſatisfie him, but he muſt deſire his friend to go to his houſe, whereof he gave him the Miſtris key. He went, and found it without any body in it, and his Mule dead, for want of meat and tendance. He went with this news to his friend, adviſing him to come out of the Monaſtery, and go home, and thence about the City, as he was wont to do. The death of his Mule troubled him not much, ſo glad was he to find himſelf once more at liberty: the onely thing gave him any diſquiet, was, that his Theodora (under which name Rufina went) came not to ſee him. But he imagin'd the cauſe of it might be, that, being a young Maid, ſhe had ſhelter'd her ſelf ſome-where, to keep out of the hands of Juſtice, or that haply ſhe might have been met with by her Father, who, as ſhe had told him, ſought after her. He went to his houſe, whither came ſoon after the Gardener and his wife, and the other ſervants. He goes into the Garden, and, notwithſtanding all the fear and diſtraction he had been in, remembred the place where he had hid his mony, and was not a little glad to find the mark where he had ſet it; ſo that before he went to bed, he reſolv'd to ſecure his treaſure in its former garriſon. As ſoon as it was dark, he takes the Gardener with him, and a Lanthorn and Candle, and goes firſt to the place where the Silver was, and bids him digg. He did ſo, but there was nothing to be found, whereat Marquina was extremely ſurpriz'd. He went thence to the place where they had laid the gold, and there they found as little, onely Rufina knew what was become of all. He walk'd ſeveral turns about the garden, with much vexation, imagining the marks might be miſplac'd; but what in looking after the marks, and what in digging; the night ſlipp'd away, ſo that at laſt diſpairing to find any thing that night, he behav'd himſelf like a perſon diſtracted. The Gardener knew not what he look'd for, nor for what reaſon he had brought him thither. The poor man reſolv'd to have a little patience till the next morning, being ſtill in ſome hope to find what he had hidden. He went to bed, or rather to ſpend the night in unſufferable torments: but as ſoon as it began to dawn, he got up, and having call'd up the Gardener, they return'd to the work they had been at the night before. Having digg'd again at thoſe places, where he was confident he had laid the mony, all they could find was, that there had been two holes made there before, and that mony or ſomething elſe had been hidden there, but all was remov'd. This aſſurance made him run ſtark mad, throwing himſelf on the ground, running his head againſt the wall, and doing ſuch things as rais'd a compaſſion in his ſervants, who thence concluded that he had loſt his mony, and ſuſpected the feign'd Theodora, to have robb'd him, by the orders he gave them to ſearch after her all over the City. But ſhe was far enough out of his reach, and had ſo wel ſecur'd his mony, that it was not likely it would come into his cheſts any more. He kept his bed a good while, our of a pure madneſs, that he had ſo ſoon loſt, what had coſt him many years trouble and pains to get together. The robbery was ſoon divulg'd all over the City; ſome, who knew not his humour, pitied his misfortune, but ſuch as had experience of his inſatiable avarice, were not a little pleas'd to find him ſo juſtly puniſh'd.

AS ſoon as our ſubtle Picara had done her work at Marquina's, and had made a broken Merchant of one, who was accounted the wealthieſt about Sevil, ſhe thought it not prudence to make any long ſ •• y, for fear of falling into the hands of Juſtice, whoſe Officers would be abroad, upon the ſollicitations of the party robb'd. She was gotten far enough out of the way, ere he was ſenſible of his loſs, for the next night after they had taken away the Money, ſhe and Garay hired two Mules, upon which they came to Carmona, which lies about half a days journey from Sevil. They had taken up two places in the Madrid-coach, which was to paſs through that City, and take them up as it went. They lighted, at Carmona, at one of the beſt Inns, where Rufina, keeping out of ſight, was reſolv'd to expect the Coach, conſidering with her ſelf, what ſhe might come to in time, now that ſhe was already Miſtreſs of four thouſand Crowns in Gold, in good double Piſtols and Quadruples, which was all that penurious Merchant had gotten together, during his whole Life, with much pains taking, and many a hazardous venture into the moſt remote Climats. Behold here, the exemplary puniſhment, which many times happens to thoſe miſerable wretches, who become the Slaves of their own wealth. And what infinitely adds to their misfortune, is, that people are more apt to congratulate than bemoan it: for how can they expect that others ſhould have any kindneſs for them, when they themſelves have not any but for what they lay up in their Cheſts?

The Coach which our fortunate adventurers expected to carry them to Madrid, came at its uſual time to Carmona. There were in it already ſix Perſons, a Gentleman, and his Lady, a Prieſt, two Univerſity-Scholars, and a Servant belonging to the Prieſt, a young Lad about fifteen years of Age. They all knew, that there were two perſons to be taken in at Carmona, who had paid ſomewhat extraordinary, for the beſt places. They accordingly reſign'd them, as ſoon as they perceiv'd their coming towards the Coach: but Garay, who was a very civil and obliging perſon, would needs recommend his intereſt in the place to the Gentleman's Lady, whom he ſeated on the left ſide of Rufina, and ſat himſelf in the fore-part of the Coach, with her Husband.

All being plac'd to their content, they left Carmona on the Munday morning, it being in September, when moſt Fruits are ripe. All thought it a great happineſs, that they had met ſo good Company; but Rufina and Garay had another ſecret ſatisfaction, ariſing from the thought of the good prize that had brought them into that good Company. The Gentleman was a Perſon of excellent diſcourſe; the Prieſt, of a very ſociable and converſative humour, and the two young Scholars made it appear, that they had not miſ-pent their time at the Univerſity, every one being deſirous to make the beſt diſcovery he could of his abilities. The Prieſt took occaſion to tell them, that he was going to Court, to get a Priviledge, to put two little pieces of his into the Preſs, being ſuch as ſome Friends of his had aſſur'd him he ſhould oblige the World in the publication of them. The Gentleman, who ſate next him, was a perſon acquainted with Letters, and expreſs'd a great curioſity to know what they might treat of. Doctor Monſalvo (ſo was the Prieſt called) told him they were Books of Diſcourſes, and Divertiſements; repreſenting to him that things of that kind, were kindly receiv'd at Court: that one of them was entituled, The Staple of Diſcourſe and Complements; and the other, The Flowers of Helicon; that the former contained twelve Moral Novels, with an intermixture of Verſes; and the Flowers of Helicon was a collection of Poems written by him, during his Reſidence at the Univerſity of Salamanca. He told them withall, that, if they thought it not tedious, he would entertain them with ſomewhat out of the former, when ever they ſhould be at leiſure to give him attention.

Rufina, who was a great lover and reader of ſuch Treatiſes, intreated the Doctor, if it were no trouble to him, to read one of his Novels, promiſing her ſelf, from the aſſurance ſhe had of his excellent parts, that the ſtile and conceptions would be anſwerable to the worthineſs of the Author. I have endeavour'd, all I could, Madam, ſays the Doctor to her, to conform my ſelf to the ſtile now us'd at Court; my Proſe is free from affectation, and conſequently will not weary the Reader, nor are the conceipts ſo flat as to produce the ſame effect. I make it my buſineſs to give my Writings a little life and ſmartneſs, which may raiſe in the Reader an earneſtneſs to know the period of the adventures. I write as I ſpeak, becauſe I ſee Men love thoſe things that are natural, better than thoſe which ſmell of too much ſtudy and affectation; and take it from me as a thing very certain, that it requires a certain meaſure of confidence for any Man to write as the times go now; which proceeds hence, that ſo many excellent Wits buſie themſelves in writing, and publiſh things as admirable as ingenious, and not onely Men, who profeſs Letters, but alſo ſome Women. Among the latter, how are we to celebrate the ingenuity of Donna Maria de Zaras, and Soto Mayor, who hath worthily deſerv'd the title of the Sibyl of Madrid, as alſo the reputation ſhe hath acquir'd of an excellent Wit, and to do admirable things in Poetry, having lately put into the Preſs a piece containing ten Novels, which are look'd on as ſo many miracles, by thoſe who are Judges in that kind of writing? The excellency of her Proſe, and the ſubtilty of the deſigns, together with the inſinuating intertexture of the Verſes, have given mate to the beſt Pens of Spain. Donna Anna Caro de Malien, a Native of our City of Sevil, comes not much behind her, and may be allow'd near the ſame meaſure of praiſe. Her ſweet and harmonious Verſes ſuſpend the Spirits, and charm the Ears of all that hear them, as hath been ſeen, by thoſe publiſh'd by her the laſt Carnaval, at the new Palace, built by his Majeſty, near the Courſe, which may be called the eighth Wonder of the World, ſince ſhe ſpeaks of it, with an eloquence anſwerable to the preparations which had been there made, many days before, for the divertiſement of their Catholick Majeſties. The Doctor having ended this diſcourſe, he took out his Book of Novels, and, the Company having compos'd themſelves to ſilence and attention, he entertain'd them with that which follows.

THis pleaſant Novel entertain'd the Company till they came to their Inn that night. Every one took occaſion to commend Doctor Monſalvo, as well for the ſmartneſs of his Invention, as for the excellency of his Stile. The old Gentleman told him, that if the whole Piece were anſwerable to the Pattern he had ſhewn them of it, no doubt but his Novels would be very well receiv'd in the World, and that he would gain as much Reputation by them, as they had had Pleaſure: and thereupon he earneſtly entreated him to communicate ſomewhat of the others to them, that ſo their Travelling might be the leſs tedious. The Doctor gave him and all the reſt of the Company his very hearty thanks for the good opinion they had of him, and proffer'd them, when they ſhould be weary of diſcourſing, to divert them with ſome of the other Novels, till they came to their Journey's end, provided they thought them not tedious. They all, with much gladneſs and thanks accepted of his proffer.

Being come within a Musket-ſhot of the antient City of Corduba, heretofore the chiefeſt of the Kingdome, while the Moors were poſſeſs'd of all Spain, after Sun-ſet, an unexpected accident caus'd them to make a little halt. Two Gentlemen being come out into the Fields, upon a challenge, which one had ſent to the other, and having fought, one of them was worſted, being run through the Body in two ſeveral places; which had oblig'd his adverſary to make his eſcape, to get into ſome place of ſanctuary. The wounded perſon cry'd out for ſome body to receive his Confeſſion, juſt as the Coach paſs'd by: which being heard by the Company, Doctor Monſalvo, who was a Prieſt and Confeſſor, could do no leſs than get out, accompany'd by Garay, and Miſtreſs Rufina, who had a great deſire to ſee the Wounded man. They came to him, and as ſoon as the Doctor had receiv'd his Confeſſion, and given him Abſolution, he loſt his Speech, being ſupported by Garay. The Doctor return'd to the Coach, and having called ſeveral times upon Rufina, who pretended ſhe could not get away Garay, the Coach-man perceiving it began to grow dark, put on the Horſes, having ſent them word what Inn they ſhould take up. Rufina was much troubled to ſee the Coach gone, having left her and Garay behind, charitably exhorting the Dying perſon to recommend himſelf as much as he could to the mercy of God; but he was ſo far gone, that, to ſpare them further Exhortation, he gave up the Ghoſt. They were much troubled what they ſhould do with the Body, when certain Officers of Juſtice came in, who, having at a diſtance ſeen the Dead perſon in the Arms of Garay, and a Woman ſtanding by, and had notice before that two Men were ſeen going out of the City, with a deſign to fight a Duel, preſently imagin'd, that Garay was one of them, and conſequently the Murtherer of the other; upon which preſumption, he was ſent to Priſon, and order given the Jaylor to put him faſt enough. Rufina had more favour, being confin'd in the Houſe of one of the Officers, who was to have a care to her forth-coming. They both us'd all the arguments they could to clear themſelves, from having any thing to do with the Murther, alledging upon what occaſion they came to the Body. But their own words would not be taken, and it was preſum'd the Duel had been upon the accompt of Rufina The Judge order'd her to be brought to his own Houſe to be further examin'd, which was accordingly done. When ſhe came thither, there were in the Room ſeveral Gentlemen, and among others a Genoeſe, a very rich Merchant, whom ſome buſineſs of his own had brought thither. They had no ſooner ſeen Rufina, but they all admir'd her Beauty and the Majeſty of her Air, but the moſt ſatisfy'd of any was the Genoeſe, who, to give him his due, was of a very amorous conſtitution. Rufina was extreamly troubled that ſuch an affront ſhould be done her by the way, as perceiving that if they were ſtaid the next day, they ſhould loſe the opportunity of continuing their journey. The Judge put ſeveral Queſtions to her, concerning the Duel, and the Gentleman's Death; whereto ſhe anſwered, that ſhe knew nothing of it, that ſhe was coming in the Sevil-Coach, to go for Madrid, accompany'd by ſome other Perſons then in the Inn, whom ſhe named; That as the Coach paſs'd by, a certain Perſon, who had been Wounded upon the High-way, not far from them, call'd out for ſome body to receive his Confeſſion, and that a Prieſt who was with them in the Coach, went out to do it, with whom alſo ſhe went out of curioſity, accompany'd by an Uncle of hers, who came along with her. They ordered, in regard it was grown late, to adjourn the buſineſs till the next day, that a more exact enquiry might be made into it, and, in the mean time, that all who came along with the Coach, ſhould not ſtir from Corduba, without permiſſion. This done, Rufina was brought back to the Officer's Houſe, where ſhe was to continue that night. The Genoeſe, who liv'd not far from it, accompany'd her; but though he had liv'd at a far greater diſtance, he would have thought it no great way to wait on a Lady, with whom he was already over head and ears in Love. Taking leave of her at the Officer's houſe, he proffer'd her all the Services lay in his power, for which ſhe thanked him, yet taking it for no more than a Complement. The Vexation ſhe conceiv'd at her being thus unexpectedly ſtaid, brought her into ſome fits of a Feaver, the firſt, of a Tertian, which ſhe afterwards fell into.

The next day, all the perſons, who came in the Coach, being examin'd, gave the ſame account as Rufina had done before, whereupon Garay was ſet at Liberty. Other witneſſes alſo who knew ſomewhat concerning the Duel, were heard, and gave the Judges a perfect knowledge of the Murther. Garay went immediately to viſit Rufina, expreſſing himſelf extreamly troubled at her indiſpoſition; he did all he could to cheer her up, that they might proſecure their Journey: but the Phyſitian, who had viſited her, advis'd her not to remove thence, till ſhe had recover'd her Feaver, and told her, that ſhe could not travel any further, without hazard of her Life; which being ſo, the Coach-man was forc'd to leave them behind, but they were adjudg'd to defray the charges of their ſtay, and he to deliver up what they had in the Coach. The Genoeſe came often to ſee the fair Traveller, at the Officer's houſe, and began to treat her very nobly, an humour the more remarkable in him, who, for ſordid niggardlineſs might be compared to the covetous Marquina; but Love, though but a ſmall Deity, yet many times does very great miracles, turning Avarice into Prodigality, and Cow • rdice into Courage.

Rufina kept her Bed fifteen days, during which time, ſhe was conſtantly viſited by Signor Octavio, (ſo was called the amorous Genoeſe) and after the Viſit, came in a Servant with a treat of Sweet-meats, and Wild-fowl, which the Officer and his Wife were glad to ſee, for the beſt ſhare fell to them. At laſt, the Lady, with her Health, recover'd alſo her good Complexion, and her Beauty, and the Genoeſe continuing his civilities, proffer'd her a Houſe with a fair Garden, which he had on the ſide of the pleaſant River Quadalguemir. Garay, whom ſhe called her Uncle, advis'd her not to refuſe that proffer, for he had diſcover'd the Man to be extreamly in Love with her, that he was very Rich, and that they might get as much out of the Genoeſe, as they had out of the covetous Marquina. Rufina accepted the proffer, and ſet things in order to go to the Genoeſe's, and to continue there till ſhe had recover'd her ſelf ſo well, as that ſhe might proſecute her Journey. The Genoeſe would not have it known at Corduba, that he had brought her to his Country-houſe, to prevent peoples talk, and other inconveniences that might have enſu'd. So that, with the conſent of Rufina, he gave out, that ſhe had left the City in order to the proſecution of her Voyage. Accordingly, there were two Mules brought for her and Garay, and two others to carry their Luggage, and having left Corduba, towards the Evening, to blind the eyes of the inquiſitive, they kept on their way towards Madrid: but having Rid out about half a League, they turn'd back again, and took up their quarters at Signor Octavio's, which was not above two flight ſhots from the City. There he expected her, with a magnificent Supper, which he had provided. Here the Genoeſe diſcover'd his Love to her more freely than he had done before. He was a perſon of about forty years of Age, of a good Manly countenance, having buried his Wife ſome two years before, by whom he had had no Children. He was a whole-ſale Merchant, and traded in all ſorts of Commodities, inſomuch that all the other Merchants, not onely of the City, but alſo of other places thereabouts came to him, for he held correſpondences in all parts. He was a very thrifty perſon, nay, to give him his due character, I ſhould uſe other expreſſions. He had ſome yearly Revenue, beſides twenty thouſand Crowns in ready Money, and ſixty thouſand in Credit, and his own Trading, which was very great. He was a great Student, and had ſtudied at Pavia and Bologna, before he became Heir to his Brother, who Dy'd a very Rich man in Spain, and that Inheritance it was, that occaſion'd his Marriage at Corduba. He had ſo paſſionate an affection for Rufina, that he uſed all the ways he could imagine to inſinuate himſelf into her favour. Upon that accompt it was that he proffer'd her the uſe of his Country-houſe, to take the Air, and recover her Indiſpoſition, conceiving, that, being at his own Houſe, it would be the more eaſie for him to compaſs his deſires. She had been told by Garay, that this Merchant was a well-feather'd Fowl, and might be eaſily pluck'd, and ſince this good Luck had fallen to them by chance, they ſhould make the beſt advantage they could of it. That night, they onely Supp'd, and every one went to his reſt, for it was very late. The Genoeſe made as if he would have returned to the City, and lye there; but his Servants, whom he had before inſtructed, perſuaded him not to go abroad at that unſeaſonable time of the Night, for fear of meeting with any Thieves: beſides, there being a Preſs in the City, many young Men preſum'd to do miſchief in the Night, and robbed all they met. At laſt, being perſuaded not to ſtir out, he was glad to paſs away ſome part of the Night in diſcourſing with Rufina, and being got to Bed, his buſineſs was to conſider, by what means, and with leaſt charge, he might obtain his deſires of her. Several things came into his mind, but the eaſieſt he could find, ſuitably to his humour, was to forget her, and never think of her any more; for he knew the Age we live in to be ſuch, that it is a miracle to get any kindneſs in Love, without Liberality.

The next morning he commanded ſomewhat ſhould be made for her break-faſt, not imagining ſhe was up: But when word was brought him that ſhe was out of Bed, the Genoeſe would needs go into her Chamber, to chide her for riſing ſo ſoon, and by that means to ſee whether Rufina's beauty were any way oblig'd to artifice. He found her kembing her head, and ſo he had a full ſight of her hair, which was of a great length, and of a Cheſtnut colour. The Genoeſe gave God thanks, who, with ſo many other perfections, had beſtow'd on her ſuch an excellent Head of hair: but he was much more aſtoniſh'd, when, upon her dividing them into two parts, to make him an anſwer, he ſaw her Face, as beautiful as it had appear'd to him when ſhe went to bed; a thing able to enflame a perſon leſs enclin'd to Love and more to Avarice than he was, inaſmuch as there is not a greater charm, to ſecure a Lover's heart, than to ſee that the beauty of his Miſtreſs is natural, and ſcorns to borrow any thing of Art. Rufina indeed was not much troubled to look after waters, paints, pomatums, unguents, and ſuch things, wherewith ſuch women, who ſtand in need of them, haſten on their age with their wrinkles, and loſe their youth ere they are aware. She onely waſh'd her ſelf in fair water, and needed no other vermilion to heighten the beauty of her face, than that of her own lively complexion. The Merchant ask'd whether ſhe would be pleas'd to ſee his Garden? She made anſwer, that ſhe was extremely oblig'd to him for the trouble he gave himſelf to divert her; and to ſatisſie him how kindly ſhe took that favour at his hands, ſhe went along with him juſt as ſhe was, without putting up her hair, which hanging down over her ſhoulders, added much to her beauty, and it is not much to be doubted, but ſhe had a deſign in it. She went down with this new Gallant of hers, who thought it an extraordinary pleaſure to have her by the hand; and in that poſture ſhe ſaw the whole Garden, ſeeming to be much taken with the delightfulneſs of it.

Having recreated her ſelf with him, till the Sun Sun began to be ſomewhat hot, ſhe return'd into the houſe, and broke her faſt, after which, having diſcours'd of ſeveral things, ſhe deſir'd to ſee the whole houſe. The amorous Genoeſe deſiring nothing ſo much as that ſhe might ſee his wealth, ſhews her a great number of excellent Pictures, done by the beſt Painters in Europe, ſome very rich pieces of Tapeſtry, Cabinets of Ebony, of ſeveral faſhions, embroider'd Beds, and all ſorts of Houſhold-ſtuff of great value. In a word, there wanted not ought of thoſe things requiſite for the furniſhing of a houſe fit for a Nobleman. Having ſeen all the rooms, he open'd a curious Cloſet, near which there was a little Oratory, and in that Cloſet there were a great many pieces of Painting, done at Rome, of extraordinary value, Agnus-Dei's of gold and ſilver gilt, and Flowers, done as near the life as could be imagin'd. The Cloſet was full of Books, very richly bound, and neatly diſpos'd into gilt Drawers. Garay, who was a curious perſon, and had read much, was looking very earneſtly on the Titles of the Books, which were in one Drawer, and having put that into its place, he took out another, wherein there were others very curiouſly bound, but had no Titles on the backs. Garay opens one of them, and finds the Author of it to be Arnaldus de Villa Nova, and near that were the works of Roſino, Alquindus, and Raymundus Lullius. The Merchant perceiving him ſo taken up with the peruſal of thoſe Books, ask'd him what he look'd on ſo attentively. I find here, Sir, replies Garay, a great many Books of Chymiſtry, and, from the curioſity I obſerve in your collection of Treatiſes of that kind, I infer, that you have ſtudied that Science. 'Tis true, ſays the Genoeſe, I have ſpent ſome time in the peruſal of thoſe Authors; but how far, I pray, are you acquainted with them? Onely ſo far, replies the other, that I have ſpent the beſt part of my life in that ſtudy. Nay then, ſays the Genoeſe, you muſt needs be a very great Chymiſt. I am not to acknowledge what I am, replies Garay, we ſhall talk another time of theſe things more at large; for the preſent, I ſhall onely tell you, that, beſides theſe Authors, I have read all I could ever meet with that treated of this Science. I have turn'd over the works of Avicenna, Albertus Magnus, Terno, Pythagoras; the Secrets of Calidus, the Book of the Allegory of Morillus, that of the Secret Stone, and that entituled, De tribus verbis; beſides many Manuſcripts, which I never ſhew'd any man. The Genoeſe was almoſt out of of himſelf for joy to hear theſe things. I am extremely glad, ſaid he to him, that this Science pleaſes you, for I have a particular inclination for it. I know it very well, replies Garay, (which he ſaid, having already reſolv'd how to put a ſlur upon him) but in regard I place a great confidence in you, I will tell you a thing in your ear, which you will be much aſtoniſh'd at. It is this (whiſpering him in the ear) that my Niece knows, without any ſtudy, in a manner as much as I do of this Art, and is very fortunate in the practick part of it, as you ſhall ſee by experience. But I entreat you not to ſpeak to her of it at this time, for ſhe would not have it known to any, nay would not take it well. Garay could not have pitch'd upon a more likely way to bring the Genoeſe into the gin; for his avarice was ſuch, that he would have parted with his Soul to find out the Philoſopher's ſtone, hoping, if he once got that ſecret, ever afterwards to ſwim in gold.

Rufina buſied her ſelf at the other end of the Cloſet, while Garay made this diſcourſe to the Genoeſe, and was looking upon ſome other curious and pleaſant Books, for there were of all ſorts. Yet was ſhe not ſo attentive, but ſhe heard ſomewhat of Garay's diſcourſe, concerning Chymiſtry, and perceiv'd the Merchant was much taken with it. The truth is, Garay had ſome knowledge in that Science, and that he had ſpent a conſiderable ſum of mony, to find out the Philoſopher's Stone, which though many had ſought, yet could not any affirm they had met with it. The ſucceſs he had had in that buſineſs onely ſatisfi'd him of their folly, who ſpent their time and eſtates in ſo ridiculous a diſquiſition, and he was glad to have met with ſuch an opportunity, to recover ſome part of the mony he had ſquander'd away therein: for the Genoeſe, crediting what was told him by Garay, imagin'd himſelf ſomewhat above a Prince. He told him, that, in that very houſe, he had all things requiſite to make the experiment, and thereupon brought him into a room full of Furnaces, Alembicks, Glaſſes, and Crucibles, with all the inſtruments us'd by the Chymiſts, and good ſtore of char-coal. Garay ſeeing that, concluded the Merchant would be eaſily taken, and what made him the more confident was, that he imagin'd he underſtood all thoſe Books, whereas Garay was ſatisfi'd he knew onely ſo much of them as would ſerve to bring him into the nooſe. In fine, they gave over talking of it any further at that time, though the Genoeſe was unwilling to quit the diſcourſe. They went down thence into a ground-room, the windows whereof look'd into the faireſt part of the Garden, where dinner expected them. After dinner, Garay, pretending it was his cuſtom to take a nap, left the Merchant alone with Rufina, to whom he took occaſion to make a full diſcovery of his love, aſſuring her, that all he had was at her ſervice, and deſiring her to diſpoſe of it as ſhe pleaſed. She ſeem'd to entertain the proffers of his affection with much kindneſs, yet at that time ſhe onely rais'd him into a ſleight hope, ſhewing her ſelf very pleaſant to him.

Having ſeen a Lute, in one of the rooms above-ſtairs, ſhe deſir'd it might be brought down; for her Muſick, at which ſhe was excellent, contributed much to the bringing about of her deſigns. The Merchant, who had a little skill at that Inſtrument himſelf, was very glad to hear that ſhe us'd it, and caus'd it to be immediately fetch'd, ſaying that his deceaſed wife plaid excellently well upon it, and that about a ſev'n-night before, having entertain'd ſome of his friends with a Collation, they had ſet it in tune. The Lute being come, Rufina began to play, and made it appear, that there were very few could excel her at that Inſtrument. The Genoeſe was aſtoniſh'd at her dexterity, and to bring him abſolutely to her lure, ſhe ſung an Air to it, but with ſuch a grace, that he was at a loſs, whether he ſhould more admire her hand, or her voice. The truth is, ſhe had a particular excellency in both, ſo that his exceſſive commendations of them, were not ſo full of flattery as might be expected from a perſon paſſionately in love. With a modeſt bluſh, which ſpread it ſelf gently over her face (a thing ſhe could command, though never acquainted with ſhame) ſhe ſeem'd to expreſs a certain baſhfulneſs, and ere it was quite diſpell'd, Signor Octavio, ſaid ſhe to him, what I have done was onely for your diverſion, be pleas'd to receive it with ſome regard to the deſire I had to endeavour your ſatisfaction; which yet I have not done without much temerity, before a perſon of ſo delicate an ear as you are, and one, no doubt, wont to hear the beſt voices in the world. I never heard any, replies Octavio, that came near yours, and therefore I beſeech you, let not your modeſty cauſe you any prejudice; nay rather be proud, Madam, of the excellent endowments you have ſo liberally receiv'd from heaven, and acknowledge the favours it hath done you; be more ſenſible of your own worth, and think my approbation below it; and yet when I was a young man, I was much addicted to Muſick, and ſome would needs perſuade me that my time was well beſtow'd in it. I muſt confeſs, the Spaniſh Tongue comes not ſo naturally to me as the Italian, the graces and beauties whereof I have better ſtudied upon the Theorbo, which I am ſo far Maſter of, as in ſome meaſure to ſatisfie the hearer. Whereupon perceiving that Rufina would have laid by the Lute, he deſir'd her to make uſe of it a little longer, and to ſing one Air more, which ſhe, to honour him, did.

Octavio took occaſion to give his dear Rufina greater commendations for the excellency of her voice than he had done before, and ſhe, to renew her thanks to him, for the favour he did her. He thought it time to give her leave to take a little reſt, and he went himſelf into another room to do the like. Garay, on the other ſide, inſtead of ſleeping, was contriving how to get the Philoſopher's ſtone, not for the credulous Genoeſe, but out of him. He had ſo far perſuaded him of his abilities, in that Science, that he deſired nothing ſo much as to be as knowing in it as he was, but all out of no other deſign than to ſatisfie his own inſatiable avarice. He imagin'd that if he could find the Philoſopher's Stone (a Rock rather, againſt which ſo many have wrack'd themſelves) all his houſhold-ſtuff ſhould be of gold, that he ſhould become a Croeſus, and that the wealthieſt about the City, compar'd to him, would be little better than beggars.

Garay had alſo a long diſcourſe with Rufina, about the means how they ſhould get the Gudgeon into the net: he gave her ſome inſtructions in writing, that the Genoeſe might find ſhe knew ſomething of the Science, at leaſt the tearms of it. Rufina got them by heart, and, to begin the cheat, Garay ask'd for ſome links of a Gold-chain ſhe had brought from Sevil. It was a large one, and if there were a dozen links taken from it, they would not have been miſs'd. Being come into the City, he goes into a Gold-ſmith's ſhop to melt down thoſe links, and reduce them into an Ingot, which he brought back to the houſe, and communicated his deſign to Rufina.

Octavio, who had ſlept all this while as ſoundly as if he had not been in love, comes in to them, and they began to talk of ſeveral things, far from having any relation to the buſineſs he had been about, which Garay did purpoſely to engage the other to fall firſt into that diſcourſe, and indeed within a quarter of an hour, he was gotten into the ſubject of Chymiſtry. Garay diſcours'd of it after the rate of a man that had ſpent his whole eſtate in the work; inſomuch that Octavio was aſtoniſh'd thereat, for though he pretended much skill in the Science, yet could he not but acknowledge himſelf much inferiour to the other. Garay, deſirous to give the Merchant all the ſatisfaction he could deſire, told him, that he could turn what Metall he pleas'd into gold. The Genoeſe was raviſh'd at the propoſal, and earneſtly entreated him that he might ſee it done. Garay ask'd him whether there were any char-coal in the houſe; the Genoeſe told him there was good ſtore, for he had had the curioſity to make ſome trials thereof himſelf. They went up both into the room where they had been before, and finding it full of Furnaces, Creuſets, Alembicks, and other Chymical Inſtruments, Garay ſaid to him, Here we have all things requiſite for the preſent. He caus'd ſome fire to be brought, and having put a little Copper into a Creuſet to melt, the Genoeſe ſaw it melting: Garay took a box out of his pocket, wherein there was a paper full of powder, which he ſaid was the moſt principal ingredient in the whole work. He put it into the Creuſet, which having brought as cleaverly as he could to a window, he pour'd out the melted Copper, and put the Ingot of gold into its place, and when he had cover'd it, he told the Genoeſe, that it ſhould not be ſtirr'd thence for half an hour. That time they ſpent in diſcourſing of ſeveral things in Chymiſtry, wherein Octavio deſir'd to make ſome further progreſs. At laſt, Garay thought it time to ſhew him what he had done, and ſo opening the Creuſet, he took out the Ingot and ſhew'd it him. The covetous Miſer was almoſt out of himſelf for joy to ſee it, though he were not fully ſatisfi'd of its being perfect gold. Garay wiſh'd him to have it tri'd by a Goldſmith; which trouble he would needs take upon himſelf, and having found that it was very fine gold, of twenty two Carats, he returns extraordinarily well ſatisfi'd. While he was gone out, Garay inſtructed Rufina, how to effect their deſign upon Octavio, who being more covetous than amorous, would have them immediately to begin the great work of finding the Philoſopher's Stone. He promis'd Garay extraordinary recompences, and told him, that he would be at the whole charge, though it ſhould amount to twenty thouſand Crowns.

Garay, who had contriv'd how he intended to gull the Merchant, return'd this Anſwer to the great proffers he had made him. Signor Octavio, ſaid he, I am now gon almoſt ſeven years beyond the grand climacterical year of my life, which is as much as to tell you, that I have paſt the greateſt and beſt part of it. It were no hard matter for me, with the help of the Science I am now Maſter of, to ſpend the little which is yet to come, at my eaſe, and it may be more plentifully, than ſome of the wealthieſt Grandees of Spain; and that I can be without any man's favour or aſſiſtance, I think you may have obſerv'd your ſelf. And in regard I have no children, to inherit my eſtate, which, I thank heaven, is ſomewhat conſiderable alſo in Lands, the main concernment I have in this world, is to look after this young Woman, my Niece. She is already but too rich, in that ſhe hath all I have, though her Father, who was my elder Brother, left her no mean fortune. She might, had ſhe a mind to it, be as nobly married as ſhe was before, for her late husband was deſcended from the nobleſt houſes of Andaluſia. Nor were it hard for me to add to her wealth, you know it; but ſuch is my confidence in you, that I will tell you the reaſon why I do not. That I am the ableſt Alchymiſt in all Spain, is known to many, which being alſo come to the ears of his Majeſty, I am ſought after every where; but I have hitherto had the happineſs to keep out of their clutches, who are perpetually emploi'd to find me out, having ſpread a report, that I was gone • o • England. It is not out of any contempt of the honours and wealth of this world, that I avoid the ſearches of thoſe, whom his Majeſty hath enjoyn'd to bring me to him, but out of this conſideration, that I would not purchaſe any favour with the loſs of my liberty, for I muſt expect no leſs, than to ſpend the reſt of my days in a noble kind of captivity. I will expreſs my ſelf more clearly to you. His Majeſty hath at the preſent very great Armies a-foot in ſeveral parts, which put him to a vaſt expence, ſuch as his own Revenue and what comes from the Indies are not able to defray: ſo that, to ſatisfie his ambition, he is forc'd to make uſe of the induſtry of his Subjects. Now were it my ſad fortune to be found by thoſe who ſo narrowly ſearch after me, the King, knowing that, with the aſſiſtance of my Art, he might eaſily recruit the charge he is at, would immediately diſpoſe of me into ſome Fortreſs, where being confin'd for the reſt of my days, I ſhould be perpetually kept at work, to augment his Treaſures, and ſupply his preſſing exigencies. I ſhould not think it much to do it once or twice, but the avarice of men is grown to that heighth, that they are not ſatisfi'd with abundance, if they have the leaſt apprehenſion, that the ſource of it may ever be dried up. This is the true reaſon, Signor Octavio, which obliges me to keep out of my own Country, and to play leaſt in ſight; and therefore receive what I have told you as a great ſecret, ſuch as I ſhould not have communicated to my own Brother, had he been in the world: but I have that confidence of you, that you will never reveal it.

Octavio return'd Garay his moſt affectionate thanks for the great truſt he repos'd in him, and thought himſelf ſo happy in the diſcovery he had made to him, that he conceiv'd the greateſt Nobles might juſtly envy him. His Anſwer to him, was, that the grounds and motives, on which he conceal'd the excellent knowledge he had acquir'd, were juſt and rational, ſince that no doubt but he would be confin'd, though for no other reaſon than this, to prevent his carrying over ſuch a Secret into another Country, to ſerve a King that were an enemy to his Catholick Majeſty. He acknowledg'd himſelf infinitely oblig'd to him, and wiſh'd it were in his power to ſerve him; but having onely the wealth he was poſſeſs'd of to proffer him, he entreated him to diſpoſe of it as freely as if it were his own, and ſince he had ſhewn him a trial of his abilities, that he would not think that enough, but ere he left Corduba, give him ſuch further inſtructions, as, being obſerv'd, he might not miſcarry in the great work. Garay promis'd to ſatisfie his deſires, telling him withal, that ſo precious a thing as Gold could not be gotten but with Gold, and that the foundations of all deſigns require charge; that the Philoſopher's Stone could not be found without coſt and much pains; that if he were reſolv'd, he ſhould attempt the doing of it, he muſt be at the whole charge, and that afterwards the profit ſhould be equally divided, and that in a ſhort time he would be glutted with wealth.

The Genoeſe, raviſh'd at that propoſal, proffer'd to ſpend all he was worth upon that accompt. Rufina promis'd to aſſiſt them. Nay, ſays Garay to her, there is ſuch a neceſſity of your aſſiſtance; that we ſhall not be able to do ſo well without it. They thereupon reſolv'd, that within two days they ſhould begin the great work. Garay told him, that the principal of the divine Elixir, (ſo the Chymiſts call the perfection of their work) was form'd of the ſolidity of Mercury, and other things which he nam'd to him, together with the urine and excrement of a red-hair'd child; that all was to be put into an Alembick, with powder of Aloes, the infuſion of Opium, Toads greaſe, Arſenick, and Salt-peter. But he hop'd to do it chiefly with the urine and excrements aforeſaid, which he order'd Octavio by all means to procure, as being the moſt neceſſary ingredient of all.

He promis'd to find it, and, to begin the work, the Me • chant deliver'd him five hundred Crowns in gold, to buy certain precious drugs, which he ſaid were neceſſary; and this the Genoeſe did the more willingly, as well out of the confidence he had to receive them multipli'd into ſo many thouſands, as out of a deſign he had thought on the night before, of making Rufina his wife, and by that means assuring himſelf of Garay. Whereupon, that very evening after ſupper, he took occaſion to carry Garay along with him into the Garden, and acquainted him with his reſolution. The Alchymiſt thought it a good way to further his work, and accordingly he approv'd of his intention, and acknowledg'd it would be a great honour to his Neece to meet with ſo worthy a Perſon; but that there was one Obſtacle to be firſt removed. What may that be ſays the other? Garay told him, that his Neece could not be Married, till a Diſpenſation were firſt obtained from Rome, in regard, that, out of the extraordinary regret ſhe conceiv'd at the loſs of her late Husband, ſhe made a Vow to enter into a Religious life; that the occaſion of their going to Madrid, was to receive ſix years Arrerages of a Rent due to them from a perſon of Quality, who was very backward in paying, in order to her reception into a Nunnery; but that as ſoon as the Diſpenſation were come from Rome, they would conclude the Marriage, which he doubted not but ſhe would accept, not onely out of the compliance ſhe had ever expreſs'd towards him, but alſo out of this conſideration, that ſhe was to match her ſelf with a Perſon inclin'd to the ſtudy of a Science, wherein ſhe had naturally attain'd ſo great perfection. Octavio was the moſt ſatisfy'd Man in the world to have ſuch a parcel of good words given him, inſomuch that from that very hour Garay became abſolute Maſter of all he was poſſeſs'd of.

Garay and Rufina having conferr'd notes upon this new Overture, were more confident than ever, to compaſs their deſign. He freely laid out the Money receiv'd of Octavio in Drugges, perſuading him they were not to be had under ſuch and ſuch rates. He alſo furniſh'd himſelf with new Furnaces, Creuſets and Alembicks, pretending that thoſe in the Houſe before, were not for his purpoſe. In the mean time, the ſilly Merchant was enquiring up and down where he might have the Urine of a Red-headed Child, which he had much ado to get; for the Mothers fearing it was to be us'd in ſome operation of Witchcraft, would not eaſily let him have it; but Money is omnipotent, and can do any thing. Garay could have done as much in one Day as in a hundred, as to the performance of what he had promis'd, but the poor Merchant muſt be fool'd ſome way or other, till he met with an opportunity to ſmite him, and take a Dog's leave of Corduba, with as much as he could ſhift away on two good Horſes, which lay Leger in a ſecret place for that purpoſe.

He diſpos'd all the Diſtillations into the Furnaces, in the preſence of Octavio; he bought ſome Metals, as Braſs, Copper, and Tin, ſeveral ſorts of Salts, and other things commonly uſed by Chymiſts; and ſetting Fire to the Furnaces, they Diſtill'd what had been put into them, but contributing nothing to the buſineſs, and only to abuſe him, who was at the charge of all the Foolery. As to Octavio's Love, he was much better treated than he was before; inaſmuch as ſince the propoſal of Marriage, Rufina, the better to carry on the main deſign, grew more kind to him, eſpecially in Garay's abſence, which the beſotted Cocks-comb was ſo tranſported with, that he knew not whether his head or his heels were on the ground.

About this time Octavio receiv'd a Bill of exchange of a conſiderable Sum, to be paid within twenty days after ſight. This, with the breaking of ſome of his Debtors in other Countries, put him into ſome fear of doing the like, if his attempts in Chymiſtry prov'd not ſucceſsful. But to prevent all inconveniences, he did what moſt of his Quality and Kidney are wont to do, who being upon the point of breaking, ſecure what they can of their Eſtates, that they may afterwards the more commodiouſly remove into ſome other Country. So our Merchant, finding himſelf within ſome diſtance of breaking, provided for the misfortune, in caſe it ſhould happen, and ſo promoted the miſchievous plot of Garay and Rufina, whom he truly acquainted how affairs ſtood with him, as if they had been his moſt faithful Relations. Garay had left in the cuſtody of a certain friend of the Merchants, a good ſum of Money, and ſome Jewels of great Value, with order they ſhould not be deliver'd to any but one of them two. Beſides which, he brought ſome to his Country-houſe, and hid them in a ſecret place in the preſence of Rufina, of whom he had a confidence, as if ſhe had really been his Wife. Garay, who was ſtill buſie about his Diſtillations, put him into good hope, that within twenty days he ſhould ſee the end of the great work, and his Houſe full of Gold, to recover the loſs he had receiv'd by his Debtors.

About this time, there happen'd a buſineſs which oblig'd Octavio to take a Journey, to adviſe with a Correſpondent of his, how to prevent the misfortune he ſaw coming upon him. Garay and Rufina being entruſted with the Houſe, thought it a fair opportunity to diſlodge, and make the beſt they could of the preſent game. They ſecur'd all the Money and Jewels they could come at, and left the Plate and ſome other things, they could not ſo conveniently carry away, behind them, though with ſome regret, thinking it more prudence to make a ſafe retreat with what were conſiderable, than to hazard all, by graſping at too much. Having therefore loaden themſelves with what was moſt pretious, they left the Furnaces, and the Alembicks, made the Philoſopher's ſtone at the coſt of the abſent Merchant, and took Horſe while the people of the Houſe were faſt aſleep. They took their way towards Malaga, and travell'd all night, having about them above ſix thouſand Crowns in Money and Jewels, and left, upon a Table near the Furnaces, a paper of Verſes, to haſten the credulous Merchant to hang himſelf.

Two days after their departure he returns home, very ill ſatisfy'd with his Journey, in that he had not done any thing in the buſineſs which occaſion'd it. All the hope he now had was in his Uncle, Garay, imagining, by his means, he ſhould yet be able to ſhew his head, and not onely keep up his Reputation, but alſo be Richer than ever he had been, ſuch a ſtrange Miſt had the Witchcraft of Chymiſtry caſt before his Eyes.

He came not to his Country-houſe till after Night, where he found the Servant whom he had left with Garay and Rufina, for the reſt of his people were in the City. The Servant receiv'd him with a ſad countenance, and being got up ſtairs, he ask'd him (fearing ſomewhat were amiſs) where his Gueſts were, of whom the Servant could give him no account, as having not ſeen them when they went out, and could onely ſay, that, two Nights before, they had lock'd him into the Room where he lay, which he had been forc'd to break open, becauſe he could not otherwiſe get out. They ſearch'd up and down, and found that the Cheſts had been opened, and all the Money convey'd away. This was not the worſt the Merchant feared, but that they had alſo been with him, in whoſe cuſtody he had greater ſumms of Money, and the moſt pretious of his Houſhold-ſtuff. It being too late to make any enquiry that Night, he thought it his beſt courſe to go to Bed; but deſirous to viſit the Furnaces once more, he finds on the Table the Paper, left there by Garay, which having open'd, he found in it theſe Lines.

The poor Merchant had no ſooner read them, ere he was convinc'd, they were his kind Gueſts who had robb'd him, and extracted what he had in his Cheſts and Cabinets with more eaſe than he had infus'd it into them. How he ſpent the Night, is onely to be imagin'd, being juſt upon the point of Breaking, and not knowing any means to remedy it. All the hope he had, was, that the Money and Jewels which he had left in a friend's hands, were ſafe enough; nay he deſpair'd not to find out thoſe, who had done him the miſchief. He turn'd himſelf from one ſide to another, not out of any diſturbance, occaſion'd by his Love to the ſubtle Rufina, (for that was abſolutely loſt with his Money) but that he had been ſo baſely trapan'd by a beggarly Raſcal. Then did he begin to curſe Chymiſtry, and all the Authors that ever writ of it, whereas he ſhould rather have given God thanks, who, by the cheat which was put upon him, had prevented the proſecution of his deſign, which might have abſolutely ruin'd him. As ſoon as he perceiv'd any appearance of Day, he got up, and went into the City, to his Houſe, whom he had entruſted with the keeping of his Money and other things. He ask'd him whether Garay had been with him? the other anſwered that he had, and had taken away whatever he had in his cuſtody, and that therein he had follow'd his own orders. That word ſtruck him almoſt Dead; nay the reſentments he expreſs'd of that loſs were ſo great, that if the other had not known the cauſe of it, he would have thought him out of his wits. He comforted him the beſt he could, and told him, that his onely courſe was to make a ſpeedy ſearch for the Robbers. He did all he could to that purpoſe, ſending Officers and others ſeveral ways; but that which Garay and Rufina had taken was ſo extraordinary, that they could never meet with them. So they return'd to Corduba, to be paid for their fruitleſs purſuit, by him who had ſent them, which, as his affairs ſtood then, added not a little to his affliction. This adventure was ſoon known all over the City; and the Genoeſe, not able to accept of another Bill of exchange that had been ſent him, was forc'd to abſent himſelf, and to return to Genua, with what he could make by the ſale of his Goods. By this means he turn'd Bankrupt, and defy'd his Creditors, who could not find any thing he had left behind him. The ſame thing happens many times to thoſe, who, with ſmall Eſtates, engage themſelves in too great affairs, preſuming upon this, that, if it comes to the worſt, they can ſecure themſelves by an eſcape.

GAray and Rufina rode on a good round pace, but kept in obſcure ways, and, in four Nights, they would not take up their Lodging in any Town or Village, but in open Fields, for fear of being ſurpriz'd by the Officers, whom they doubted not but the Genoeſe had ſent to enquire after them. They had ſhifted their Cloaths, and having diſguis'd themſelves as well as they could, they carefully avoided all thoſe places where they had the leaſt apprehenſion they might be known. It was Garay's charge to provide Victuals; and being about the beginning of the Spring, they found it no great inconvenience, to lye abroad in the open air. They got into a thick Wood juſt as the Sun was ready to ſet, and fearing that a thick Cloud, under which they were, might break upon them with too great violence, as there was ſome likelihood, by reaſon of the great Thunder and Lightning that had gone before, they went into the thickeſt part of it, the better to ſecure themſelves. Other Travellers, upon the ſame apprehenſion, had taken refuge at a place, near that where Garay and Rufina were. The noiſe they made in diſcourſing, rais'd in Garay a curioſity to come and over-hear what they ſaid; and through the means of thick Buſhes, being come near them, he perceiv'd they were three Men, one whereof, ſpeaking to the others, ſaid; If this Tempeſt laſts all night, I doubt we ſhall be diſappointed of our deſign. I fear me ſo too, replies another, and no doubt but the Hermit of la Serre will be out of all patience that he hath expected us ſo long. O that Brother Criſpin is an excellent fellow, ſays another of them: his Religious frock covers a great deal of miſchief, and he is ſo inſinuating in his behaviour, that he is very much in their favour, who beſtow'd the Hermitage upon him. He is ſo tranſcendent an Hypocrite, replies another, that he is able to blind all the World: he hath the reputation of a virtuous perſon all over the Country, and there is not within twenty Leagues about a more conſummate Villain than he is. I have been acquainted with him theſe twelve years, ſays the Second, and his profeſſion hath been to receive Thieves, and their Booties; and he hath been ſo fortunate as never to be ſuſpected Guilty of any crime of that kind, whereas ſo many other poor Rogues have been taken and truſs'd up, at the firſt falling into the hands of Juſtice. It muſt needs be acknowledg'd, ſays another, that his Hermitage is a very convenient place for perſons of our profeſſion, and the Cellar he hath made under it, is ſuch a place, as the Divel himſelf would never find out. We could never have met with a more ſecure place, to put up the fifteen hundred Crowns we yeſterday disburthen'd the Merchant of. 'Twas the moſt conſiderable Robbery that hath been committed in this Country of a long time. If it would but hold up a little, ſays he who had ſpoken firſt, I hope to make as good a Prey, yet before it be Day.They thereupon adviſed concerning the means how to execute their deſign. Garay miſs'd not a word of all they had ſpoken; the Country he was acquainted with as well as if he had been Born in it, and very well knew the Hermit, whom, till then, he had accounted a perſon of great ſanctity, ſo far was he from imagining, that he drove ſuch a Trade, and that his Hermitage had, for ſo many years, been the refuge of High-way-beaters, and Houſe-breakers.

Having made this ſtrange diſcovery, he returns to the place where he had left Rufina, and gave her an accompt of what he had heard from thoſe Robbers. They continu'd there without making any noiſe, they and their Horſes, till ſuch time as the others were gone, conſidering with themſelves how they might make their advantage of that unexpected adventure: And taking their way to a blind Inn, not far thence, they ſtay'd there the remainder of that Night, and all the next Day. Having, in that time, conſider'd what they had to do, they went both towards the Hermitage, where Brother Crispin (ſo was the Hermite named) lived, and being got within a ſmall diſtance of it, Garay bound Rufina to a Tree, upon which ſhe cries out as loud as ſhe could, Is there no body to relieve a wretched Woman, ready to be Murther'd here? O Heaven, revenge the injury done to my innocence. On the other ſide, Garay acted his part, ſaying, 'Tis in vain for thee to call any body to thy relief; thou haſt not long to live, and therefore recommend thy ſelf to God, for thou ſhalt not eſcape out of my hands; as ſoon as I have bound thee to this Tree, I will diſpatch thy Soul into the other World.

At the firſt noiſe of her crying out, Crispin hears her, and being all alone in the Hermitage, a thing ſeldome happened, for, moſt nights, he had the company of ſome of the tribe, who though guilty of much watching, were not much either of ſanctity or miracles. The Hermit came out with two good Pocket-piſtols, and being got near the place, whence he had heard the noiſe, he diſcharg'd one of them, which happen'd very luckily for Garay. For it being reſolv'd upon the queſtion between him and Rufina, that he ſhould run away as ſoon as any came near them, it might be conceiv'd, the diſcharging of the Piſtol had frightned him. He preſently mounted one of the Horſes; and leading away the other, he rid away with all the ſpeed he could. Crispin comes near the Tree, and, by the light of the Moon, perceiv'd Rufina, weeping moſt bitterly, and ſeeming to be aſtoniſh'd, through that fright ſhe was in. Seeing the Hermite coming towards her, What art thou return'd Traitor, ſaid ſhe? will nothing deter thee from executing thy cruel deſign? Come, take away my Life, and put me out of further trouble, and doubt not but one time or other, Heaven, ſince it will not reſcue, will revenge my innocence.The frock'd Hypocrite, hearing this diſcourſe, and perceiving thereby that ſhe miſtook him, made her this Anſwer, Madam, I am not the perſon you think me to be, but one who comes to relieve you in this extremity, and to ſave your Life. What is become of the Villain, who would have taken it from you, and hath oblig'd me, contrary to the rules of my Profeſſion, to take Fire-arms to purſue him, not doubting but what I do will be accompted an act of meritorious charity in the ſight of God?

Having thereupon unbound her, Rufina caſt her ſelf at his feet, ſaying, It muſt needs be, Brother Crispin, (for ſhe knew his name) that you had ſome revelation from Heaven, of the violence intended me, ſince you came ſo miraculouſly to my relief, and that with Arms ſo contrary to your Profeſſion. Heaven reward you for the charitable aſſiſtance you have afforded an innocent Woman. I cannot expreſs the reſentment I have of the kindneſs you have done me, otherwiſe than by ſubmiſſions and vows, as being oblig'd to you for no leſs than my Life, which the fury of a Brother was juſt going to deprive me of.

Crispin was extreamly taken with the Woman, (nay notwithſtanding his vow of chaſtity, he had a kindneſs for the whole Sex) but he was yet maſter of ſo much modeſty and reſerv'dneſs, that he ſorbore all diſcourſe of Love and Familiarity; and continuing in his counterfeit ſanctity, My dear Siſter, in the Lord, ſaid he to her, I think my ſelf far from deſerving all the favours it pleaſes God to do me: but I endeavour all lies in my power to Live virtuouſly, ſerving my Creator in this ſolitary place, where it hath been the pleaſure of his divine Majeſty, that I ſhould be a means to ſave your Life: I heartily thank him for it, and am extreamly glad, that what is done is to your ſatisfaction. For this night, I can onely proffer you ſuch a reception as a poor Cell can afford, where you may continue, till you have accommodated your affairs, and reconcil'd your ſelf to your Brother. I aſſure you it is abſolutely at your ſervice, and I offer it you with ſuch a cordial affection, as a good Chriſtian ought to have for his Neighbour, for I had not put my ſelf into this habit, were it not to exerciſe ſuch charities as theſe.

Rufina renew'd her thanks to him for the civil proffers he made her, burſting forth afreſh into feigned tears, a thing ſome Women can do when they pleaſe, but this had the knack of it beyond any. She gladly accepted of his kindneſs, as what conduced very much to the compaſſing of her deſign. They thereupon took their way towards the Hermitage, and Brother Crispin, ſeeing Rufina was ſomewhat weary, endeavour'd to comfort her with all the kind words he could think of, and at laſt took her by the arm, to help her forward. He open'd the door of the Hermitage, and when they were got in, Rufina was not a little aſtoniſh'd, to ſee a rough Plank, which he pretended was his Bed, with a Crucifix at the head of it, and on one ſide, hanging up by a Nail, an Inſtrument made of good Whip-cord; wherewith his credulous Zealots believ'd that he diſciplin'd himſelf: all the other furniture of the Room conſiſted in a little rotten Table, which, by much travelling and removing from place to place, had brought four feet to three.

Rufina finding the room ſo poorly furniſh'd, and the perſon who made his aboad in it ſo mortify'd and reſerv'd in his behaviour, began to repent her ſelf, that ſhe ever came thither, and imagin'd that Garay had miſ-underſtood the conference of the Robbers in the Wood. But the devout Hermit put her out of her dumps, for taking notice of her looking a little ſtrangely on the accommodations of his Houſe, he ſaid to her, My dear Siſter, you may haply think this a very poor Lodging, and that you will have but an ill Nights reſt; be not troubled, I will Lodge you much better than you imagine. 'Twas your happineſs to come hither at this time, now that there are not any here upon their ſpiritual retreats, which ſome devout ſouls of your Sex are wont to make at this Hermitage, ſometimes for eight or ten days together. Some of theſe, for the greater conveniency of their devotion, have ſent hither Beds, and ſome other Houſhold-ſtuff. Incomparable Hypocrite! Having asked her whether ſhe liv'd at Malaga, and ſhe telling him that ſhe was a ſtranger in thoſe parts, he would have perſuaded her, that there were Beds in the Hermitage for ſuch as came to make their ſpiritual retreats there, which was a damnable lie: but the truth of it was, that he, for his own eaſe, had very good Quilts, and other neceſſaries for a bed or two, for the entertainment of the ſecret camerades who came often to viſit him. Theſe conveniences were diſpos'd into a low room, which was alſo the Treaſury, where thoſe birds of prey, put up ſuch things as the true owners of them never intended ſhould be acquainted with the place. He thereupon deſir'd her to have a little patience, till he went down to fetch ſome bedcloaths, which having brought, he made her a bed in a little Cell, at a ſmall diſtance from his own. They had a better ſupper then Rufina expected, there was ſome boil'd meat and broth, and a cold Rabbet, which Criſpin pretended had been leſt at the Hermitage by one of his Penitents, a very devout old Gentlewoman, whom he was infinitely oblig'd to; and to cloſe their ſtomachs, they had ſome excellent fruits, according to the ſeaſon.

Rufina was a woman much inclin'd to mirth, but at this time, doing her natural diſpoſition ſome violence, ſhe ſeem'd to be very melancholly and reſerv'd, and ſo continu'd all the time they were at ſupper, eating very little, the better to expreſs her wearineſs, and being troubled at the accident, which had befallen her. The Hermit in like manner pretended he had no great ſtomach, whether the meat was not dreſs'd to his mind, or that he did it out of a compliance with his fair gueſt, whom he look'd on ſo attentively all the time they were at ſupper, as if he had been to read a Lecture of her Phyſiognomy. At laſt, having taken away the meat and cloth, the Hermit, deſirous to know of Rufina, the cauſe why her own Brother would have taken away her life, entreated her to ſatisfie him, which ſhe did in this ſhort account of her ſelf.

Though it cannot but add very much to my affliction, to make a rebearſal of the occaſion of it, yet the kindneſs you have done me, my dear Brother, being ſo tranſcendent, I ſhould be a very ungrateful perſon, to deny you the ſatisfaction of ſome account of her whom you have ſo highly oblig'd. I was born, ſaid ſhe, in the City of Almeria, of noble Parents, my Anceſtors having been famous there for ſeveral ages. All the children they had were onely my ſelf, and a Brother, who is a year older then I am. My Father and Mother left this world, and me in it a little before I was fully arriv'd to the fifteenth year of my age. There were thoſe who thought the face you now ſee not unhandſome, that is in other words, ſeveral perſons courted me in order to marriage, but my Brother oppos'd it as much as lay in his power, charging my Sutors with ſome defects or other, in their eſtates or extraction, ſo that not any one of them obtain'd what they ſo much deſir'd. I believe the true cauſe of my Brother's refuſals proceeded from a deſire he had that I ſhould go into a Nunnery, where I had two Aunts, and he get to himſelf ſomewhat of the fortune my Father had left me. I diſcover'd his deſign, by their continual preſſing of me to become a Nun. But I never had any inclination to that kind of life, and ſo my Anſwer to them was ſutable thereto; which incens'd my Brother ſo much againſt me, that he never look'd kindly on me ſince.

The Hermit having heard this ſtory, took occaſion to comfort her the beſt he could, and promis'd her to do any thing that lay in his power; whereupon they parted for that time, and went to their ſeveral Beds; ſhe, to that which had been prepar'd for her, and he, to another, that lay in a ſecret place, very well furniſh'd; for, however he blinded the world with an apparent auſterity, he was a perſon who lov'd his eaſe as well as any other. He was deeply fallen in love with Rufina, and mighty deſirous to acquaint her with his paſſion; but the fear of ſcandal made him a a little reſerv'd. He ſpent the whole night without any reſt, contriving how he might beſt make a diſcovery of his love to her.

As ſoon as it began to dawn, he got up and ſoon after him Rufina, who going into the Church belonging to the Hermitage, found him on his knees before the Altar, which oblig'd her to do the like, at a little diſtance from him. He thought fit to continue his devotion a while, but not without much diſtraction, for he could not forbear looking on her, to ſuch a height was his love grown in one night. On the other ſide, Rufina, who was as well read in Hypocriſie as the Hermit, was reſolv'd to outvy him at kneeling, in which poſture ſhe continued ſomewhat longer than ſhe could have wiſh'd. At laſt perceiving that Criſpin had done his prayers, ſhe alſo ended hers. Whereupon the holy Brother comes to her, and ſaid to her, Bleſſed be the great Preſerver of Mankind, my dear Siſter in Chriſt, for his infinite mercies; be it his good pleaſure that you may live happily all the reſt of your days, and have all thoſe enjoyments of body and mind you can your ſelf deſire. I pray tell me, excellent creature of God, how you reſted this night. Very well, my beloved Brother, repli'd ſhe, I thank your kindneſs, though the trouble I am in ſuffers me not to be quite free from diſquiet. There is nothing more argues a devout Soul, ſays Criſpin, than a ſweet and humble compliance with the will of Heaven; put your confidence in him who hath numbred the hairs of your head, and doubt not but this heavineſs will be turned into joy. If it be his bleſſed will, it ſhall be ſo, ſaid ſhe, though we ſee not the means how it will be effected. O excellent creature! cries out the amorous Hermit, how highly meritorious in the ſight of God is this holy acquieſcence and reſignation?

Having ſo ſaid, he brought her into a little room, out of which they had the proſpect of the fields, where being both ſate down, Criſpin began to open himſelf to her in this diſcourſe. When I ſeriouſly conſider, Madam, the ſtrange effects of beauty, how the purſuance of it forces men into diſturbances, and in a manner tranſports them out of themſelves, I cannot chuſe but pity and excuſe them, becauſe the frailer part of man endeavours its own ſatisfaction, and the heart is naturally enclin'd to deſire that which the eye contemplates with a certain pleaſure, eſpecially having for its object the moſt delightful thing that God ever fram'd. You may hence take occaſion to imagine, Siſter, what reflections we ſhould make on the celeſtial beauties, and thoſe ſupernatural miracles which tranſcend the reach of our ſenſes. When I left the world, which was in an age not much acquainted with the wickedneſs of it, I propos'd to my ſelf, as far as I could with a reſpect to humanity, to keep my ſelf at as great a diſtance as I could from the ſight of that admirable ſex, which is not undeſervedly called, the fairer half of the world; inaſmuch as I have already put away childiſhneſs, and began to entertain thoughts ſutable to manhood, and apprehended, that to be exempted from the charms of women, was a privilege wholly angelical. I am at the preſent much more ſatisfied as to that particular, than I could have been in that ſtate of innocence, and I find there is an abſolute neceſſity I ſhould keep out of your ſight, or fall into the ſnare I ſee the devil laying for me. The ſumme of this diſcourſe, Madam, is to ſhew you, that beautiful faces are very dangerous, and that, ſince my firſt ſight of yours, I feel my Soul in a very great hazard. Be not ſtartled, I beſeech you, to hear me talk after this rate; this diſcourſe, I muſt confeſs, is very diſconſonant to the habit I have on, and the propoſition I have embrac'd: but theſe have not unmann'd me, and conſequently not exempted me from humane infirmities.

With theſe words there might be ſeen ſpreading over his face a certain bluſh, as if he could not make the firſt overture of ſuch a thing without expreſſing ſomewhat he was never truly acquainted with, Shame. Rufina, with a counterfeit modeſty, ſeem'd to do as much as he had: but Occaſion preſenting her fore-lock, and telling her that that was the moſt likely way to bring about her deſign, ſhe would not give him an abſolute denial, but made him this Anſwer. Though I know my ſelf not to be of their number, who, by their beauty, may engage men into any diſquiet, yet muſt I acknowledge, Brother Criſpin, that, as to this point, I am of your opinion; for the attractions of Beauty are ſo powerful, that I my ſelf, though a woman, am carried away therewith, as well as others, and know not a greater pleaſure, than that of ſeeing a handſome face, and admiring the effects of it. And therefore I wonder not at all, that men are reduc'd to ſome extremities, when they are paſſionately in love, ſince it is to be imagin'd, that the force of beauty operates with an extraordinary influence. Nor do I think any more worth my admiration, to ſee it hath its effects as well on thoſe who are retir'd out of the world, as on thoſe whoſe affections are moſt inclin'd thereto, inaſmuch as they have not attain'd a degree of perfection purifi'd from the droſs of all humane enjoyments: And therefore, I have reaſon to think my ſelf the more oblig'd to the charity you have ſhewn me, ſince I underſtand, that your exerciſing of it is not without the Ioſs of your quiet, and ſomewhat of ſcandal. I could wiſh with all my heart, that I were not the cauſe of ſo much trouble in the world; but in regard you are not heard by any but my ſelf, you need fear nothing as to that particular. You were deſirous to know the Hiſtory of my Adventures, I am no leſs to be acquainted with yours, and particularly to underſtand what might have oblig'd you to leave the world ſo ſoon, to live in this ſolitary place, and with ſo great auſterity. For though I doubt not but you did it in order to the ſalvation of your own ſoul, yet me-thinks I perceive in you thoſe excellent endowments, for which you might have been eſteem'd in your youth, and put off the execution of ſo hard a penance till another time.

Rufina's diſcourſe was as the counterfeit Hermite could have wiſh'd it, and thereupon being tranſported with joy, he came more home to his purpoſe, and told her in plain tearms, that the charms of her beauty had ſo inchanted him, that, from the minute ſhe firſt came into his houſe, he had not had any reſt, he loving her as paſſionately as man could be imagin'd to love woman. Rufina, who minded her own work, entertain'd the diſcourſe with ſomewhat of kindneſs, excuſing it upon the account of humane frailty: ſo that giving him ſome hope, that he ſhould obtain his deſires, he ſeem'd to be the moſt ſatisfi'd perſon in world. Rufina pretended indiſpoſition, and for two days together kept her bed, where ſhe was treated by her charitable Entertainer, with the beſt meat could be had for mony, which was brought to the Hermitage in the night time, by his Camerades.

It may ſeem ſomewhat ſtrange, that Rufina ſhould have the confidence to continue all alone in that ſolitary place, with a perſon of whoſe wickedneſs ſhe had a ſufficient knowledge: but ſhe knew withal the paſſion he had for her, and inferr'd thence, that a real Love never being without reſpect, ſhe could not imagine he would ever injure her. What further aſſur'd her, was the hope ſhe had put him in to treat him more kindly, when ſhe had certain notice brought her, that her Brother had left Malaga; beſides, that the apprehenſion ſhe had leſt ſhe might be diſcover'd, kept her from requiting, as ſhe thought her ſelf oblig'd, the extraordinary kindneſs he had ſhewn her. Thus ſhe drew in by degrees the Rampant Hermit, who, to further on the work, promis'd her to make a diligent enquiry, by the means of his friends, whether her Brother were at Malaga.

That night, Criſpin's three intimate friends came to the Hermitage, bringing along with them above two thouſand Crowns in gold. This was the robbery they were engag'd upon, when Garay over-heard their diſcourſe in the wood. The diſcovery had been made by Criſpin, in a houſe of the City, where he was wont to receive alms, and the rain having prevented the execution of the deſigne that night, they had now done their work, by thruſting a little boy into the houſe where the mony was, who made a ſhift about mid-night to open the door for them.

The three Robbers brought the mony that very night to the Hermitage. Criſpin, who was unwilling they ſhould ſee what female-company he had in the houſe, receiv'd them in his own chamber, and treated them with a Supper. As they ſupp'd, they diſcours'd of divers things. There was among them one, who having quitted his Studies, had engag'd himſelf in that infamous kind of life, not regarding his extraction, nor his endowments, which were much beyond ordinary. This perſon furniſh'd them with diſcourſe upon all occaſions; whence it came that Criſpin deſir'd him to divert them a little, and, to drive away the time a while after ſupper, to entertain them with ſome Hiſtory or Novel, for he had abundance of them. He preſs'd him the more earneſtly, that Rufina might alſo participate of the diverſion, who, from the room where ſhe was, might hear all their diſcourſe. She was very glad, to find, that Criſpin was the ſecret entertainer of ſo virtuous a Society, and immediately concluded by their diſcourſes, that they were the ſame perſons, whom Garay had over-heard in the wood. The young man, whom the Hermite had intreated to tell them ſome ſtory, diſplay'd the excellency of his wit and memory, in the relation of the enſuing Novel.

THE Novel was lik'd and commended by all that heard it, nay Rufina was extremely ſatisfi'd therewith. Brother Criſpin, who repos'd a very great confidence in her, was nothing troubled that ſhe ſhould over-hear the deſigns laid by him and his Camerades to ſearch thoſe places, where they had notice there was anybooty. Criſpin approved of ſome of the Robberies propos'd by them, and oppos'd others, for the inconveniences he found in the execution thereof: for they look'd on him as a perſon of great authority among them. His experience in affairs of that kind was ſuch, that he aſſum'd the title of Director, or rather Dictator of that famous Society: inſomuch that not any one durſt contradict what he had once decreed. It was by this time grown very late, ſo that they would not make a Divident of what they had brought in that night, leaving it to be done at the next meeting, and committing it to the cuſtody of the Hermit, who was their very faithful Steward. Crispin's Companions being gone to their quarters, he thought it incivility for him to do the like ere he had made a viſit to Rufina, to wiſh her a good night's reſt. He found her a little more chearful than he had ever obſerv'd her before, whereat he was very glad. He ask'd her what ſhe thought of the Novel; ſhe told him, that ſhe thought it very pretty and full of diverſion, and that if ſhe might often hear the like, they would procure ſome abatement of her melancholy. Take a good heart, Madam, ſays the Hypocrite to her, I hope you will here ſee an end of your affliction; we ſhall endeavour to find you all the divertiſement we can, and 'tis poſſible you may not repent your being among us, if you will but remit ſomething of your reſerv'dneſs, and lay aſide, as a thing extremely ſtrange in this place, ſome part of your modeſty. Rufina thought it time to alleviate her ſeverities with ſome affability, and to quit her feigned grief. From that time, ſhe began to treat the Hypocrite with greater kindneſs, that ſhe might the better execute the deſign ſhe had to make a Novice of an old Projector. Criſpin went to bed, half laid aſleep with her favourable looks, and the hopes derived thence, that the Fort would within a ſhort time be reduc'd, ſince he had made his approaches ſo near, and taken off the Mask of his feign'd Hypocriſie.

The next morning at the very break of day, Criſpin's companions left the Hermitage, to ſeek out their livelihood, at their coſt, who leaſt miſtruſted them. The Hermit himſelf was ſoon after for his march into the City, to beg alms, where he was wont to receive any. He went to take his leave of Rufina, who deſir'd him to make very diligent enquiry for her Brother, giving him the marks of his face, perſon, and cloaths, much different from thoſe whereby Garay might have been found out. He lock'd the door on the out-ſide, and carried away the key with him, which Rufina was not much troubled at; for ſhe had brought with her from Corduba ſome of thoſe keys, which open all locks, an invention better than Picklocks, and ſome other devices, which ſhe had uſed at the Genoeſe's. Thus was ſhe left all alone in the Hermitage, having before-hand appointed Garay to come to her as ſoon as Brother Crispin got to Malaga; which he accordingly did, mounted on one of the two horſes he had brought with him. Rufina having heard him, open'd the door, and gave him a ſhort account what trade Brother Crispin drove, of his falling in love with her, and how there was a conſiderable ſumme of mony in the Hermitage, brought thither the night before by his Camerades. Rufina had reſolv'd to carry away all the ready mony, in order whereto, ſhe ſent away Garay back to the City, to get ſome ſleeping-powders, to be adminiſtred to Crispin at his return, that ſo they might have the whole night to do their work in. Garay brought the powder's before Criſpin got home, for he ſpent the whole day in begging, and return'd not to the Hermitage till towards night.

Being got home, he was very kindly receiv'd by Rufina, whereat he was tranſported with joy, for he grew more and more in love with her. He ſhew'd her what he had gather'd that day, and beſides what had been voluntarily given him, he had very uncharitably taken, of his own accord, two ſilver ſpoons, and a neck-lace of pearl. The neck-lace he immediately preſented Rufina with, and put it about her neck, with a thouſand amorous complements. She gave him infinite thanks for his Preſent, after which they ſupp'd very merrily together, he ever and anon entertaining her with ſome diſcoveries of his love, whereto ſhe gave him very favourable Anſwers, promiſing it ſhould not be long ere he had of her what he ſo much deſired.

It had been ordered among the Ferrets that frequented the Hermitage, at the laſt Committee, that a general meeting ſhould be had there that night, as well for the diviſion of the former booty, as the making of new propoſals. Criſpin, who was not willing Rufina ſhould be ſeen, and expected ſome ſecret kindneſs of her, thought it concern'd him to prevent it. As ſoon as they were come together, he found out an evaſion to diſperſe them. He told them, that he had received notice from the City, that there was a ſtrict ſearch made for a perſon who had treacherouſly murther'd another; and inaſmuch as Sacred places were no Sanctuaries for ſuch cowardly Offenders, he feared there would be ſome ſent to the Hermitage, and if it chanc'd any one of them ſhould be apprehended for ſome other crimes, he might be ſeiz'd and carried away priſoner, and afterwards, brought to the Torture, confeſs what he had not been charg'd with at his apprehenſion. Perſons of that profeſſion are commonly ſtartled at any thing; accordingly they ſoon credited what their Director ſaid to them and left the Hermitage, adjourning the Aſſembly to the fourth night after. By this means Crispin was left alone in the Hermitage, with his Miſtreſs, who had promis'd to give him ſatisfaction that night; whereat he was almoſt out of himſelf for joy, thinking he ſhould never ſee the hour, that ſhould give him the poſſeſſion of that Beauty.

Soon after they went to ſupper, which was very magnificent, for Crispin had brought ſome, both wild and tame, fowl, ready for the ſpit, and a good large bottle of Malaga, which is the beſt of any wine in Spain. Rufina having plaid the cook, and made all things ready, they began both to eat very heartily, their minds disburthen'd of all care and trouble; healths were drunk, Rufina out-vying the Hermit at that exerciſe, and having the management of the bottle, ſhe took care that Crispin never drunk without the powder prepar'd for him. He drunk as liberally as the other fill'd, till at laſt, tumbling down under the table, he fell dead aſleep, inſomuch that Rufina, to try whether the potion had wrought its effect, pull'd him by the ears and noſe, to awake him, but it was to as little purpoſe as if ſhe had done it to a dead corps. With that aſſurance, ſhe went down into the Cellar, which was under ground, and out of certain cheſts ſhe found there, ſhe took all the mony ſhe met with, whereof there was no ſmall quantity. She diſpos'd it into bags, which ſhe ty'd with cords, and into long leather pouches, wherein the Thieves had brought it, they having robb'd a rich Drover who was going to Madrid. That done, Rufina comes out, and, by a ſignal, got Garay to her, who lay hard by perdue for that purpoſe.

They took all the ready mony they could find and put it on Garay's Bay, and got up on the other horſe, and put forward towards Mal • ga, extremely pleas'd that they had ſo eaſily trapann'd the ſubtileſt and moſt experienc'd Thief in Europe. They left ſome things behind them, which might have been well worth the conveyance thence; but it was a Maxim of theirs, never to burthen themſelves with any thing that might be known or challeng'd. They ſoon got to Malaga, and took up their quarter's in Garay's Inn, Rufina not being ſeen by the people of the houſe, that night nor the next day. She knew what night the Conclave of the Hermitage was to meet; but ere I tell you what courſe ſhe took, me-thinks I hear Crispin ſnoring, and calling to me, to give an account of him. He ſpent that night more innocently than he had done any one of a long time before, for, never ſtirring from the place where he had fallen aſleep after ſupper, it may be preſum'd he thought no hurt. By that time the Sun was got high enough to raiſe the flies from creeping to flying, he awoke, having not the leaſt apprehenſion of what had happened to him in the night. He call'd Rufina, recollecting himſelf ſo far, that by his exceſſive ſleepineſs he had miſs'd the opportunity he had ſo much wiſh'd for; but all his calling was to no purpoſe. He ſought her all about the houſe, in the Church, in the Cellar, and not finding her, he went out into the fields to look for her, thinking ſome ſtrange accident muſt needs happen to her, when he found all the doors lock'd. He made a ſecond ſearch for her, but finding the cheſts open'd, and the bags of white and yellow pieces diſlodg'd, he was convinc'd of his being robb'd, and that the poor innocent woman, frightned by the thieves, had made her eſcape, and lay lurking ſomewhere about the neighbouring fields, inaſmuch as ſhe would not venture to go far in a dark night. He ſought after her till he grew weary, but ſhe was got far enough out of his reach. At laſt, hearing no account of her, it came into his mind that ſhe might be guilty of the robbery; which ſtruck him ſo to the heart that he was ready to hang himſelf, to think that ſo famous a Rogue, and one that had been, for ſo many years, the Dictator of a Crew of Villains, ſhould be ſo baſely trapann'd by a woman; and then he inferr'd that all ſhe had done was onely to bring him into the nooſe. However, he went that day, as he was wont to do, to Malaga, to try if he might find her in the City. He met Garay, but having never ſeen him before, he was never the nearer.

Rufina and Garay had ſet things in order for their departure to Caſteel; but ſhe would not go till ſhe had ſerv'd the hyppocritical Hermit ſuch a ſcurvy trick as that ſhe might never fear any requital from him. She knew the time of their meeting at the Hermitage, a place intended for other uſes than to be the Rendezvous of a pack of high-way-men and houſe-breakers. That they might be all found together, to receive the chaſtiſement due for their villanies, ſhe writ a Letter to one of the Magiſtrates, acquainting him with the time, when, and the place where he ſhould find the Malefactors, and how they might be taken. That done, Garay and Rufina took their way for Toledo, towards which place, we ſhall leave them on their way, to give an account what was done upon the Letter. As ſoon as it was night, the Magiſtrate, attended by ſome of his men, went to the Hermitage, beſieg'd it, and got in. He found in the firſt place Crispin, little thinking to receive ſuch a viſit: yet was it ſeaſonable as to the preſent ſecuring of his life; for they were beginning to ſquabble about the mony loſt, and the others charg'd Crispin with treachery, and 'tis likely he had had the worſe among them, being but one to three. Having ſecur'd him, they ſearch'd the whole houſe, and at laſt, went into the Cellar, where they found his Companions, as alſo ladders of cords, pick-locks, iron-crows, and all the other engines fit for Gentlemen of their profeſſion. They alſo ſearch'd the cheſts, in which they found ſeveral pieces of Plate, and other things of value, undeniable demonſtrations of the devout exerciſes of that vertuous company. They were all taken and brought away Priſoners. Crispin himſelf was ſo much at a loſs, that he knew not what Anſwer to make to what was ask'd him. Whereupon one of the Officers made him this comfortable diſcourſe: Ungracious and unfortunate man, vile Hypocrite, who, cover'd with the cloak of ſanctity, doſt commit ſuch robberies! How will the world be ſurpriz'd to find it ſelf ſo miſtaken in thee? How will others, who have entred into that holy profeſſion of renouncing the world and its enjoyments, ſuffer in the reſpects of men, when the infamous Hiſtory of thy life comes to be publiſh'd? Were not the charities beſtow'd on thee every day by ſo many good people, ſufficient for thy competent ſubſiſtance, that thou might'ſt ſpend thy time comfortably in a place ſo holy and ſo convenient for the ſerving of God as this is, but thou muſt give thy ſelf over to the baſeſt and moſt diſgraceful employment in the world? Thou art now fallen into my hands, and I promiſe thee, that neither thou, nor thy companions, ſhall get out of them, till you are to be honourably conducted to the Gallows or ſome worſe place.

With theſe juſt reproaches, he carried them away to the City, where they were condemn'd to die, all the others having, upon the Rack, confeſſed ſeveral crimes, charging Crispin to have been the man, who gave them intelligence of the robberies, that were to be committed, and many times open'd the door for the better execution thereof. As for his part, he expreſs'd ſo much courage and reſolution in the midſt of his torments, that he obſtinately deni'd whatever was laid to his charge. Yet could not all prevent the paſſing of the ſentence upon him, but the execution of it was a little delai'd, as to him, by reaſon of his falling into a violent Feaver in the priſon: but his companions were all truſs'd out of the way. Not long after, Crispin being, upon his recovery, to follow them, went out of the priſon, at noon-day, in womans cloaths, not without the great aſtoniſhment of all the world, who expected to ſee his Exit hence, and to the greater affliction of the Jayler, who was conceiv'd to have been corrupted with mony, and to have ſet him at liberty. But he clear'd himſelf, by producing the perſon who had furniſh'd him with the cloaths, wherewith he had diſguis'd himſelf, who was condemn'd to ſpend the remainder of his life, though he liv'd ninety-nine years, in the Gallies.

Rufina and Garay were by this time gotten to the Imperial City of Toledo, where they had reſolv'd to ſettle themſelves. To give the greater credit to her reputation, ſhe pretended that Garay was her Father, and took a very fair Houſe in the moſt eminent quarter of the City; her train conſiſting of a Slave ſhe had bought at Malaga, a waiting Gentlewoman, a Lackquey, and a Gentleman-uſher, ſhe had taken up at Toledo. She put on the habit of a Widdow, and Garay, very handſomely clad for a perſon of his Age, went under the name of Don Jeronimo, and ſhe under that of Donna Emerentiana, their Surname de Menezez, aſſuming their deſcent from the illuſtrious Family of thoſe, who, under that name, are ſo well known in Portugal. She bought Houſhold-ſtuff ſuitable to the condition of a Widdow of Quality, and accordingly ſhe was viſited by the chiefeſt Ladies of the Quarter, who were extreamly ſatisfy'd, as well with the charms of her beauty as thoſe of her converſation, inſomuch that they accounted themſelves very happy in her Neighbour-hood. She ſoon became acquainted with many of her own Sex, who took for Gold all that Gliſter'd in that ſubtle Woman. Going every day to hear Maſs in the great Church, it could not be long ere ſhe was obſerv'd by ſome of the young Gallantillos of the City, who, having diſpatch'd their Devotions, ſpend ſome time in contemplations of the Ladies who may be preſent. Accordingly, ſhe being noted to be one newly come to Toledo, and withall very handſome, there wanted not thoſe who began to Languiſh for her, and make their Addreſſes to her.

While ſhe is informing her ſelf who were the richeſt and likely to have moſt ready Money, that ſhe might not, for want of practice, forget her old Trade. We ſhall leave her taking her meaſures, and her new Gallants preparing for their amorous adventures, and take a turn to Malaga, to ſee what became of Crispin, after he had ſo cleaverly got out of Priſon.

Finding himſelf once more at liberty, he left Malaga, and got into a Wood, not far from the City, where he continu'd till Night, and then he went to the Hermitage, where he had Liv'd many years in the reputation of a good Chriſtian, and a perſon of a very exemplary Life. As ſoon as he was convicted of the crimes laid to his charge, there was put into his place a very Religious man, who went about to ſeveral Churches, begging alms, to build a little Hoſpital there. He was not as yet fully ſetled in the Hermitage, the place being not yet furniſh'd. Crispin got thither in the night, and oppoſite to the South-ſide of it found a place, where he had laid up ſomewhat againſt a Rainy day. Breaking up the ground with a Hoe he had left in the Wood, he came at laſt to a little Earthen pot, wherein was a Bagg, and in that all the Money he had reſerv'd, of all the Robberies he had been engag'd in; for he ever had two ſhares of the Booty, for his two Offices of Director, and Concealer, of the good Company which frequented the Hermitage.

With that Summ, which might amount to five or ſix hundred pounds ſterling, all in Gold, he went to the City of Jaën, where he had a friend of the ſame profeſſion. This friend of his had heard of his eſcape out of Priſon, whereat he had been not a little troubled, inaſmuch as he might have made ſome commemoration of his Camerade upon the Rack, with whom he had been engag'd in ſeveral Robberies. He was very glad to ſee Crispin at liberty, in hopes of his direction and aſſiſtance in ſome new enterpriſes. Crispin was but poorly accoutred, as having been uncas'd of the Hermit's habit, which he had ſhewn himſelf unworthy of; but the Bagg he had ſo well Lin'd was a ſoveraign remedy againſt Nakedneſs. He gave his companion Money to buy him a Light-colour'd ſuit, and having taken off his long Beard, he put on a Periwig, which, with a Sword by his ſide, diſguis'd him ſo that he ſeem'd to be quite another Man, and not to be eaſily known even by thoſe who had been particularly acquainted with him. In that Equipage he continu'd ſome time at Jaen, till there happen'd an opportunity to commit a conſiderable Robbery at Andujar, which was very faithfully divided between him and his companion. But fearing the perſon who had been Robb'd would make a diligent ſearch after them, Crispin thought it their beſt courſe to be gone thence in time, the adventure at Malaga being ſtill freſh in his memory.

They took into their company a third perſon, whom they met with by chance, a young Man, born and bred in the City of Valentia; and they came to Toledo, where they had never been but as they travell'd through it. The new Camerade they had taken in, was call'd Jaimo, a poor Rope-maker's Son of Valentia, who, for ſome roguiſh exploits he had done there, which brought him ſome Money, had been oblig'd to abſent himſelf thence for ſome years. He was a handſome, fair-hair'd, ſprightly young Man, and beſides the accompliſhments of his perſon, he had an excellent Wit, and was not inferiour, in ſubtilty, to either Crispin or his Camerade.

This young Adonis went very Gallantly, upon their charges who either were ignorant or mindleſs of the old Proverb, Fast bind, fast find. He had the art to transform into the current Mode all the Cloaths he got by ſlight of hand, and ſo diſguis'd them by changing the Laces and Trimming, that the very Owners could not have known them. On a certain Feſtival day, he put on a very Rich ſuit, and went along with Criſpin to Maſs, in the great Church, and into the ſame Chappel, where Rufina was at her Devotions, under the name of Donna Emerentiana. Though, as I told you, ſhe was in a Widdow's habit, Criſpin knew her at the firſt bluſh, and was not a little glad to ſee her. He kept himſelf from her knowledge, for fear of being diſcover'd, though there was no great fear of it, as he was then accoutred. He ſhew'd Rufina to his Camerade Don Jaimo, who was infinitely taken with her; and having deſir'd him to dogg her, ſo as ſhe might not perceive it, he did it ſo cunningly, that he kept his Eye on her, though ſeeming to look another way, till he ſaw her go into her Houſe. He was very glad to hear by the Neighbours, that ſhe Liv'd there, and that in great Reputation, under the name of Donna Emerentiana de Menezez, lately come from Badajos, with her Father, to live at Toledo.

Crispin had a devilliſh pique againſt her, for the ſcurvy trick ſhe had ſhewn him at Malaga, and heartily ſwore, that ſince he had ſo fortunately diſcover'd her, he would not leave Toledo, ere he had call'd her to an accompt for the Money ſhe had carried away from the Hermitage, together with the intereſt, and all the charges of his Impriſonment. To compaſs his deſign, he inſtructed Jaimo what he had to do, and whom he ſhould repreſent, without making a real diſcovery of himſelf to her. It was not long ere an opportunity offer'd it ſelf to proſecute the deſign they had agreed upon. One evening, about an hour before night, there chanc'd to be a quarrel in the Street, where Rufina liv'd, wherein there were two Men wounded. The Officers of Juſtice preſently came in, and carried the wounded to their Houſes to be dreſs'd, and ſecur'd ſome others that happen'd to be then in the ſtreet, though nothing engag'd in the quarrel; which occaſion'd others to run for't, it being no great pleaſure to come into trouble and reſtraint for another Man's crime.

Crispin's plot took its riſe from that Quarrel. Jaimo, inſtructed by that ſubtle Hypocrite what he had to do, had taken the Croſs of Knight of the Order of Monteſa, an honour beſtow'd by the King onely on the natural Inhabitants of the Kingdome of Valentia; and to that purpoſe he had gotten a very light handſome black ſuit made him. In this Equipage, being come to Rufina's houſe, and having given his Cloak to Criſpin, he drew his Sword, and went in, acting the part of a Man much aſtoniſh'd. Finding the door which led up ſtairs open, he goes up, and came into the room where the jovial Widdow was with her Maids. They were a little ſtartled to ſee a Man coming in to them with his Sword drawn, without a Cloak, and in a manner frightned out of his Wits. Rufina roſe from the place where ſhe was ſate, and found the Impoſtor in the poſture of a ſuppliant, addreſſing himſelf to her in theſe words. If compaſſion be not at too great a diſtance from ſo beautiful a countenance, be pleas'd, Madam, to let your Houſe be my Sanctuary againſt the Officers of Juſtice by whom I am purſu'd. That I have Kill'd a man, I muſt acknowledge, but it was in my own defence, in this ſtreet, where he had ſet upon me with advantage. The Officers perſuing me at the heels, I had infallibly been taken, had I not very courageouſly made my party good, by laying two of the moſt forward with their Bellies to the Sun, who with the Commiſſary had me in a manner by the Collar. I eſcap'd from the reſt, by the pure activity of my Leggs; for it is prudence for a Man to give way to the Magiſtrate, whom he is oblig'd to reſpect. But they perſiſting ſtill in the purſuit, I found your Houſe open for my ſafety, and I have taken the boldneſs, ſhutting the door after me, to come up into your Chamber. I therefore moſt humbly beſeech you Madam, if it may be done without your inconvenience, that you would diſpoſe me into ſome ſecret corner of your Houſe, till the people now in the ſtreet be diſpers'd, and that I may ſafely go hence. But if my preſumption puts you to any diſtraction, or give you any trouble, you need onely give me the leaſt ſignal, and I will immediately go out into the Street, though I were ſure to leave my Life in it, as chooſing rather the horrours of Impriſonment, than to be over-importunate to ſo fair a Lady.

We have already given a deſcription of this fine Orator. Rufina look'd very earneſtly upon him; and ſhe who never had lov'd any thing comparably to Money, immediately found her ſelf ſuſceptible of an inclination towards that young Man, who ſeem'd to her as eloquent as ſhe had thought him handſome. Whereupon ſhe return'd him this Anſwer. You have done me but juſtice, Sir, when you thought me ſenſible of honour and compaſſion; perſons of my condition are never deſtitute thereof towards ſuch as you are. I preſume, by what I ſee of you, that you are a perſon of Quality; and therefore ſympathizing with your affliction, I heartily proffer you my Houſe, to continue in it as long as you ſhall think fit, to avoid the purſuit of thoſe who look after you: for it were not juſt you ſhould fall into their hands, ſince, by my means you may be ſecur'd from ſo great a danger. Fear not any thing here; for though the Officers ſhould come into the Houſe, I ſhall put you into ſo ſecret a place, that they ſhall never find you.

The young Spark gave her a thouſand thanks for ſo ſignal a favour, which oblig'd her to make him this further diſcourſe. You very well know, Sir, by the habit I am in, with what reſerv'dneſs I ought to live in my Houſe, and yet I freely proffer you the ſecurity you promiſe your ſelf in it, till you have accommodated your affairs. But I have a Father, now from home, who will expect an accompt of my demeanour: and if, at his arrival, which it may be will be this day, he will entertain you with a Room in his Lodgings, as I am confident he will think it an honour, I ſhall be content. The young Gallant renew'd his thanks to her, for that continuance of her kindneſſes, and he expreſs'd himſelf ſo gentilly, that ſhe was more and more taken with him.

In the mean time, thoſe who were of the Plot, knock'd very confidently at the door, calling upon them to open to the Officers. The family was at firſt a little ſtartled; but Rufina, recovering her ſelf out of the little diſorder which appear'd in her countenance, took Jaimo by the hand, and led him into an upper Room which had a double Partition, before which there was a piece of Hangings, and left him there, with an aſſurance it would be impoſſible to find him out. That done ſhe went to open the door, and Criſpin impudently comes in, without the leaſt fear of being known, being diſguis'd as he was. He was attended by ſome Rogues of his Profeſſion, who with Lanterns and Fire-arms, perſonating the Officers of Juſtice, uncivilly ruſh'd into the Room where Rufina was. Criſpin gave her a kind ſalute, and counterfeiting his Voice ſuitably to his Perſon. I know, Madam, ſaid he, that it ſpeaks a kind of incivility, to come ſo boldly into a VViddow's Houſe; but my Charge obliges me thereto, and therefore you will excuſe me. The Lieutenant Criminal hath commanded me, to ſearch all the Houſes hereabouts to ſee if I can find a Malefactor we look for. Our ſearch hath hitherto been to no purpoſe, and we have but this one Houſe to ſearch; give us therefore leave to look into all the Rooms of it, that we may ſatisfie our Superiours, and withall our own Conſciences. You may aſſure your ſelves, ſaid ſhe to them, upon my word, that I ſaw no Body come into my Houſe; but, that you may not think amiſs of me, or conceive me a Woman to ſhelter Murtherers, and Miſchievous perſons, ſearch, and ſee whether you can find the perſon you look for.One of the Maids took a Wax-candle to light them, and they viſited ſeveral Chambers, yet not too exactly, that the ſlightneſs of the ſearch might be thought a Courteſie.

That done, he civilly took leave, recommending the proſecution of the plot to his Camerade. The counterfeit Knight came out of his hole, pretending an extraordinary gladneſs, that he had eſcap'd their hands, who ſought after him, and in expreſſions full of acknowledgment, he highly celebrated the favour he had receiv'd from the fair widow. She, who, the more ſhe look'd on him, more and more fancied him, made him a thouſand demonſtrations of Friendſhip, aſſur'd him he ſhould be waited on at her houſe according to his worth; and if he would have the patience to ſtay till her Father came in, ſhe was confident he would not ſuffer him to go out of the houſe that night.

The Gallant, who perceiv'd the Lady began to grow warm, was the more earneſt to beg a leave which he ſaw would not be eaſily granted him, told her, it would be his beſt courſe to take Sanctuary in ſome Religious houſe, whence he might ſend notice to his people at the Inn, where he was; that he was to go the next day for Sevil; and that he thought it not ſafe for him, to go that night to his quarters. Rufina, troubled to find him ſo reſolv'd, more earneſtly preſſes his ſtay, repreſented to him the great hazard he ran, and deſir'd him by all means to ſtay two hours longer.

Jaimo, who deſir'd nothing ſo much, was perſuaded to do ſo. She deſir'd his permiſſion, to go and take order about ſome things her Father had left her to do, whereof ſhe was to give an account at his return. This was onely a pretence to get out, to confer with her ſlave, in whom ſhe repos'd great confidence, what courſe ſhe ſhould take. She took her into another room, and freely acknowledg'd to her the inclination ſhe had for that Knight; that it troubled her to let him go out of the houſe, leſt he might endanger his life, or at leaſt hazard his liberty: but on the other ſide, ſhe knew not, whether Garay would take it well that ſhe detain'd him, and that he ſhould be in the houſe all night. At laſt, much troubled at theſe difficulties, ſhe deſir'd her to give her the beſt advice ſhe could, and what ſhe would reſolve, were ſhe in her condition.

The Slave, who was as ſubtil a baggage as her Miſtreſs, and immediately apprehended, that the advice ſhe would beſt like muſt be ſuch as promoted her paſſion; I muſt acknowledge, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, that it would argue an exceſſive eaſineſs of nature in you, conſidering the ſhort time you have known this Cavalier, to unboſom your ſelf ſo far, as to give him a paſſage into your heart; and I think you would do imprudently on the other ſide to perſuade Garay, when he comes, to ſuffer his abode this night in the houſe. My advice is, ſince the houſe is large enough, and that there are two or three empty rooms, into one whereof he may go through your lodgings, that you lodge him there, and make not any body acquainted therewith. It ſhall be my care to bring him thither, when I have made his bed, and ſupply him with all things requiſite, without Garay's knowing of it. You know Garay is to be gone within theſe two days for Madrid, and then you may freely enjoy your ſelf with this young Gentleman, whom it will be eaſie for me to perſuade, that the ſearch being ſtill about the ſtreet, it is abſolutely neceſſary that he ſtay, if he will not hazard his life or liberty. The Slave's advice was extremely pleaſing to Rufina, who order'd her to go immediately and lay clean ſheets on the bed, and to put the Cavalier in poſſeſſion of the room. 'Twas preſently put in execution, and not long after, the amorous Widow went by a private pair of ſtairs, to viſit her Gallant. You will haply wonder, Sir, ſaid ſhe to him, that without my Father's permiſſion, I have ventur'd to receive you into my houſe, and that in the night: but to ſecure a perſon of worth, there may be a little breach made of the rules of modeſty. I have thought it moſt convenient, that, as I have been a means of your avoiding the eyes of Juſtice, ſo you ſhould alſo keep out of my Fathers, to the end you may be here in all ſafety. Be pleas'd to think your ſelf oblig'd to me for this little ſervice; but I render it you very heartily, nay I think it neceſſary, in order to your ſafety.

Jaimo, who perceiv'd this fiſh would come into the Weel, multiplies his acknowledgments by thouſands for this new favour. That begat abundance of pleaſant diſcourſes between them, whereof the iſſue was, that he heightning his flattery by his eloquence, inſinuated himſelf more and more into her good opinion; & celebrating, one after another, all the perfections and accompliſhments of Rufina, he got the abſolute diſpoſal of her heart. Yet would ſhe have a little further trial of his ſincerity, to ſee whether it were onely her beauty that drew him in, and whether it were true that the charms of it had ſo ſuddenly transform'd a perſon, who fearfully fled into her houſe for ſhelter, into a confident Lover.

Upon this the Slave coming in, and giving her Miſtreſs an account that ſhe had obey'd her commands, ſhe took Jaimo by the hand, and led him to the room prepar'd for him. He found it light enough, as having in the midſt of it a Branch, of Cryſtal, wherein were many wax-candles, and a magnificent Collation ſtaying for him. He was a little ſurpriz'd to ſee ſhe left him alone, but her excuſe ſatisfi'd him, that ſhe would be with him again, as ſoon as ſhe had ſeen her Father in bed. At her departure out of the room, ſhe beheld him with eyes ſo full of love and tenderneſs, that that new demonſtration heightned the Gallant into an abſolute confidence of the good ſucceſs of his enterpriſe. Garay was not ſo far ſtricken in years, but that he had the courage left to pretend to the poſſeſſion of Rufina; he acted the part of her Gallant, and had he not been already married, he would have treated of a marriage with her. He kept his wife at Madrid, who, as many others do that are caſt off, and ſlighted, beſtow'd the time of her Husband's abſence on ſuch as would accept of her kindneſs. Some years had paſt ſince he had heard from her, whereupon imagining ſhe might be dead, he had reſolv'd upon a journey to Madrid, to make a ſecret enquiry after her, that, in caſe ſhe were remov'd out of the world, he might proſecute his intentions to marry Rufina, who was infinitely oblig'd to him. Upon this account it was that he reſolv'd his departure within two days.

Leaving him in thoſe thoughts, let us return to Rufina, who ſet him to ſupper as ſoon as he was come in, and, pretending ſome indiſpoſition, excus'd her ſelf that ſhe could not bear him company. It being his cuſtom to go to bed as ſoon as he had ſupp'd, Rufina ſtaid, till word was brought her, that he was faſt aſleep, and then went to her Gallant, cauſing her own ſupper, which was that night ſomewhat more than ordinary, to be carried along with her. As ſoon as the cloth was taken away, during the interval which the ſervants had to ſup, Rufina, who was more and more in love with her new Gueſt, entreated him to give her an account of his life, and ſincerely to acquaint her with his name, his country, and the occaſion of his coming to Toledo. Jaimo, whoſe deſign it was onely to abuſe her, entertain'd her with this Romance, whereto ſhe gave very earneſt audience.

My Country, Madam, is Valentia, one of the moſt eminent Provinces of Spain; you know it well enough by name, and haply are not to learn, that it hath a great advantage over ſeveral others, as well in regard of Nobility and wealth, as the temperature of its climate, and the delightful fertility of its ſoil. I am of the noble and antient Family of Pertuſa, well known all over that Kingdom. My name is Don Jaimo de Pertuſa, and the King, for the many good ſervices done him by my Anceſtors, hath honour'd me with the Order of Knight of Monteſa, and the Commanderie of Silla, which is the beſt of any belonging to that Order. Beſides what that brings me in, I have in other eſtate as much as may amount to three thouſand Crowns per annum. I am the onely Son of the Family, and I made my addreſſes to a noble Lady of the City I was born in, named Donna Blanca Ceintillas, of one of the moſt illuſtrious Families of Valentia, a Lady of excellent endowments. I have ſerv'd her with all the affection imaginable, whereto ſhe gave me no return, as being pre-ingag'd to another Cavalier, who was alſo a Servant of hers, named Don Vincent Poiadas; whereupon ſeeing my Rival preferred before me, I was exaſperated beyond meaſure. Don Vincent was a perſon of ſuch an humour, as that nothing would ſatisfie him, leſs than to rid out of the way whatever might obſtruct his amorous pretenſions. Accordingly, one night, meeting with me in the ſtreet where my Miſtreſs liv'd, attended by three ſervants, he ſet upon me, though I had but one with me. I defended my ſelf as well as I could, but at laſt came off with ſuch wound; as it was conceiv'd I muſt have di'd of them. There could never be any perfect diſcovery made of him who had hurt me, though every one ſuſpected who it might be: but the common report coming in to the Magiſtrate that Don Vincent was my Corrival, he was impriſon'd; but, having clear'd himſelf either by favour or mony, he was ſet at liberty. Being recover'd of my wounds, and reflecting on the advantage, wherewith my Rival had engag'd me, I thought it but a juſt requital to fall on him, upon the ſame unequal terms. I therefore ſurpriz'd him in the ſame manner as he had done me, and the reſult was, that he got off much more wounded than I had been. There happen'd to be ſome in the ſtreet, who knew me, and took their oaths againſt me, a thing not much practis'd at Valentia, in regard the truth is ſeldom diſcover'd by that means. Upon this accident it is, that I came thence, for Don Vincent was ſo dangerouſly wounded, that the Chirurgeons gave but little hopes of his recovery. I ſaw his Friends were reſolv'd to revenge his death, and was afraid to fall into the hands of Juſtice. This oblig'd me to leave Valentia, and to come to this City, where I have now been about a month. I have underſtood by a perſon of this City, who hath correſpondents in ſeveral others, that he whom I had hurt is out of all danger, nay in perfect health, and that the treaty of marriage between him and Donna Blanca is concluded, whereof I have a greater reſentment, then of having this day met with two men, who hir'd by Don Vincent came hither purpoſely to murther me. They ſet upon me in this ſtreet, one I have mortally wounded, as I think, and by that means made a ſhift to eſcape out of their hands, with the aſſiſtance of thoſe who came in to part us. I found your houſe open, and being come into it for refuge, I find my ſelf ſecure, and that all I have to fear now, is, your fair eyes. Avoiding one priſon, I am fallen into another; but I think my impriſonment ſo pleaſant, that, if you diſcharge me not, I ſhall continue it as long as I live.

Thus did the counterfeit Don Jaimo conclude his relation, leaving Rufina extremely ſatisfi'd, to ſee in that Cavalier, not onely thoſe endowments which might deſerve love, but alſo ſuch initiations of affection, as rais'd in her a certain hope ſhe might one day be his wife: which having diſcours'd within her ſelf, ſhe immediately made him this Anſwer. Signor Don Jaimo Pertuſa, I am very much troubled, that you ſhould come to the knowledge of me at Toledo, upon ſo ſad an occaſion to your ſelf; but it abates much of it, that you intend not to return ſo ſoon into your Country, for I could wiſh your reſidence in this City, and aſſure you, for my own particular, that if I could oblige your ſtay, I would endeavour it by all means poſſible, nay though it were fatal to my liberty. The advantages you would make of it might not haply amount to much, yet can you no leſs than think your ſel • oblig'd to me, for the good will I bear you, conſidering the little time I have had the honour to know you. Such as it is, if it oblige you to any reciprocation, I ſhall think my ſelf but too too happy, and that I have attain'd the greateſt of my wiſhes. In order to ſuch a deſign, Heaven hath not haply made me handſome enough; but I dare ſtand on my good nature, and withal that I have otherwiſe wherewith to ſatisfie a perſon of your worth and quality. Madam, replies Don Jaimo, I kiſs the very duſt you tread on, though I think not my ſelf worthy enough it ſhould be touch'd by my mouth, when I conſider the favour I receive from you. Yet can I not but think I have fully ſatisfi'd whatever I ought you, ſince I have reſign'd up to you my heart and ſoul, and ſo I fear not any Action you may have againſt me, as to that particular. As to your forcing of my will, you may ſpare your further trouble, I am already ſenſible, Madam, that it is at your devotion, and therefore you may forbear ineffectual remedies, where there needs onely that Sovereign one of your Beauty, which is ſo full of vertue, that it hath tranſported me out of my ſelf, that I might be abſolutely at your diſpoſal. 'Twas a happy day to me, that I was ſet upon by thoſe Aſſaſſins of my Country, ſince the miſchief they intended me hath procur'd me the favours I have receiv'd from you. Now I wiſh Heaven would prolong my Life; for if you approve of the affection I have for you, as you are pleas'd to aſſure me, in ſpight of all the ſtorms of my ill fortune, I ſhall get into a haven where I may defie all dangers, I mean that of your good inclinations towards me. The thought of them gives me reſpit, and fills me with an abſolute oblivion of my Country, ſince I muſt look on a place, where ſuch happineſs is prepar'd for me, as my Paradice.

Theſe diſcourſes, and others yet more amorous, paſs'd between Don Jaimo and Donna Emerentiana; and the crafty Youth had the length of her Foot ſo rightly, that ſhe was eaſily enſnar'd in the ſubtle Webb of his cunning inſinuations, and made it her main buſineſs to ingratiate her ſelf more and more with him. The time inſenſibly paſs'd away in theſe amorous conferences, inſomuch that it was two in the morning ere Rufina retir'd to her own Chamber, yet troubled, that ſhe was forc'd to do it ſo ſoon; and the Impoſtor Jaimo preſently went to Bed, extreamly pleas'd, that his Camerade's plot had taken ſo well. Criſpin was extreamly perplex'd, that all that Day and the next, he had receiv'd no news of what paſs'd, by reaſon of Garay's being in the Houſe: but as ſoon as he was gone, for Madrid, the amorous Rufina gave her ſelf more liberty, being ſtill more and more deeply in Love with her Gueſt. Jaimo acquainted Criſpin, by a Letter brought him by the Slave, how he was favour'd by Rufina. Criſpin anſwer'd him by the ſame hand, and withall ſent him a Purſe with a hundred pieces, to get her in to Play, and to make preſents to the Servants, that he might be ſure of them when occaſion ſerv'd.

The day of Garay's departure for Madrid, Rufina was taken up with the reception of two Gentlewomen of her Neighbour-hood, an employment ſhe was not at all pleas'd with, for ſhe wiſh'd them far enough, and her ſelf in her Gallant's company. As ſoon as they were gone, ſhe went to her beloved Jaimo, whom we ſhall Don—as long as this Scene of the impoſture laſts. She found him tuning a Lute, which her Slave had brought him; for he was an excellent Muſician, and had a ſmack of Poetry, an accompliſhment not extraordinary in the Natives of Valentia, where there are alſo admirable Muſicians. Rufina, hearing him at a diſtance, came ſoftly into his Chamber, charm'd with the ſweet harmony of his Lute, which he touch'd with a miraculous dexterity, and being not ſeen by the young Man, ſhe hearkned to him a good while, perceiving he intended to ſing a Song, as he afterwards did with an admirable grace, and he had made the Verſes, which were upon the occaſion of his Love. This added to the flames of her affection, which were before grown too violent for to keep within the bounds of modeſty: but what moſt raviſh'd her, was, that the Verſes he had Sung were made for her, and upon the accident which had happened to him. VVhereupon the Love-ſtung VViddow coming up to him, What, ſaid ſhe, Signor Don Jaimo, you are Maſter of thoſe excellencies which I little imagin'd? I am extreamly glad of it, yet wonder not much thereat, as knowing Valentia to be famous for excellent Voices. Mine is but ordinary, ſaid he, and it is rather the words, than the goodneſs of the Voice that induc'd me to Sing. I find, ſaid ſhe, this Song is very new, and that it was not made two days ſince. 'Tis very true, ſays Don Jaimo, yet is it not to be much wondred at, ſince the ſubject, upon which it is made, hath ſuch an influence over me, as would make me undertake things impoſſible, as tranſcending whatever yet I thought worth my admiration. No flattery, I pray you, ſaid ſhe to him, for though I know that what you ſay is not true, and that you Men allow a diſtance between your words and thoughts, and, when you do not love, moſt pretend it, yet I cannot but take all kindly from you. You may be deceiv'd in both, Madam, ſaid he • , and therefore be pleas'd to believe me, that I think my ſelf extreamly happy in that unhappy adventure, which procur'd me the glory of your acquaintance. All I have to beg of you is, that you take a more particular notice of my freedome, and thence infer, that my Soul cannot be fuller of affection towards you than it is.

In fine, theſe and other inſinuating diſcourſes ſcrew'd up the feign'd Widdow to ſuch a height of kindneſs, that the crafty companion began to deſiſt from the enterprize which had occaſion'd his coming to her, and ſeriouſly diſpoſe himſelf to aſſure her more and more of his love. And thinking her fully ſatisfy'd with the relation he had made her of himſelf, he became ſo familiar, as to deſire her to give him the like accompt of her extraction▪ She thought fit to make her condition equal with his, and accordingly, ſhe acquainted him in a ſhort diſcourſe, how ſhe was deſcended from the illuſtrious Counts of Menezez in Portugal, though ſhe had been born in the City of Badajos. The crafty companion immediately apprehended what Game ſhe would be at, and that her deſign was to oblige him to Marry her. This was directly contrary to the ſentiments of Criſpin, who would not by any means that he ſhould think of any ſuch thing, but continually reflect on the dangers they are apt to run into, who following the profeſſion he was engag'd in, are concern'd to be expeditious in the execution of their enterpriſes, leſt being, by ſome unexpected accident, prevented, they come to make their laſt Wills on a Gibbet, before they are willing to remove into the other World.

The young Gallant grew more and more warm in his love towards Rufina, particularly upon this accompt, that, according to her relation, ſhe was nobly deſcended. He thereupon did all lay in his power to heighten her affection towards him. She on the other ſide, had the ſame thoughts, ſo that concurring in the ſame deſires, as Lovers mutually paſſionate, Rufina behav'd her ſelf ſo freely and familiarly towards him, that he might eaſily perceive ſhe had diſcarded all modeſty: inſomuch that, upon little intreaty, ſhe permitted him to invert the order of the Alphabet, and to put Q. before P. But in the midſt of her enjoyments, ſhe remembred her old Acquaintance Garay; ſhe reflected on the familiarites had paſs'd between them; ſhe conſider'd how much ſhe was oblig'd to him; and that he was look'd on all over the City as her Father. She imagin'd to her ſelf the reſentment he muſt needs have at his arrival, when he found that ſhe had baſely forſaken him. She bethought her ſelf to give him a ſum of Money privately, and to diſmiſs him: but thinking more ſeriouſly of it, ſhe thought it a better courſe to leave Toledo before his return, and to perſuade Don Jaimo to carry her into his Country, Valentia. She reſolv'd within two or three days to declare her mind to him, for Garay was not expected home till fifteen days after.

In the mean time Rufina and her Gallant paſs'd away the time very jocundly, and he, being very heartily in love with her, was fully reſolv'd to give Criſpin the bag, and not to proceed any further in his firſt deſign. 'Twas in the Winter-time, when the Nights are longeſt, that theſe Lovers deceiv'd the ſlow-pac'd Seaſon with an intermixture of Careſſes, Songs, and amorous Diſcourſes, nay many times, they ſung together, their ſeveral parts, to a Muſical Inſtrument, which he play'd on. One night, after they had Sung and Talk'd of ſeveral things, Rufina entreated her Gallant to entertain her and her Maids with ſome pleaſant Story, or Novel, if he knew any. The young Man, who was Vers'd in all things, and of an excellent Wit, was content to anſwer the deſires of his Miſtreſs, to give her a new demonſtration of his further perfections, and ſaid to her▪ Though to ſuch a Perſon as you are, divine Emerentiana▪ and my deareſt Miſtreſs, my diſcourſe will ſeem very ordinary, yet ſo punctually would I obey your Commands, as if I knew what you impos'd on me were onely for a trial of my compliance: And in regard I do it, in this, ſo much of a ſudden, I hope to find you the more ready to excuſe my failings. The Novel I intend to tell you, I heard from an accompliſh'd Cavalier of Valentia; I thought it not unpleaſant, and ſhall endeavour to preſent it to you as well dreſs'd as I receiv'd it. Whereupon having recollected himſelf a little, he began his diſcourſe thus.

RUfina and her Maids were extremely pleas'd with this Novel of Don faimo's; that eloquence which was ſo natural in him, added as ſo many precious grains to the perfect metall of his other excellent qualities, rendred him of ſo good weight in her eſteem, that ſhe could no longer forbear expreſſing it in her words and actions. On the other ſide, the Gallant, finding her ſo tractable, reſolv'd to deſiſt from the intention he had to rob her, and wiſh'd for a handſome opportunity to acquaint her therewith, which ſoon happened. For Rufina perſuading her ſelf that Don Jaimo was the ſame perſon he had deſcrib'd himſelf in his relation, told him, that ſhe had ſome intentions, before her Father were return'd from Madrid, to leave the houſe ſhe was in, to carry along with her all the beſt houſhold-ſtuff, and to go with him into Valentia, ſince he was ſo powerful in thoſe parts, and deſcended from ſo illuſtrious a Family, and that her Father would not be dis-ſatisfi'd with her marriage, when he ſhould come to hear of it.

The diſguis'd Cavalier was forc'd, upon this occaſion, to diſcover how it had been reſolv'd that he ſhould trapan her, and not deſirous ſhe ſhould continue any longer ignorant of the impoſture, My dear heart, ſaid he to her, having experienc'd the kindneſs and affection wherewith you have been pleas'd to honour me, I were the moſt ingrateful perſon in the world, if I ſhould keep you in darkneſs any longer. No, I will make an abſolute and full diſcovery of my ſelf to you, and tell you ſuch things as have hitherto not ſo much as entred your imagination; and certainly I were not pardonable, if the ſincere affection I bear you did not ſomewhat alleviate my crime. I do not ſay it conſiſts in my loving of you, for it is impoſſible, that thoſe who have once a ſight of your divine beauty ſhould not love you: I have ſeen it, and, ſubdu'd by your charms, am become a captive thereto, my liberty and all the powers and faculties of my ſoul being abſolutely at your diſpoſal. 'Tis a Victory, Madam, which you might eaſily obtain over hearts much more rebellious againſt Love than mine is, which became your ſlave, upon the firſt ſight of thoſe two Suns; and this is a truth I ſhall never recant while I live.

The meaning of this Preamble is, to induce you to pardon me the offence I have committed againſt you. I now ingeniouſly acknowledge, that I am not the perſon I deſcrib'd in the account you oblig'd me to give me of my extraction, though it be true I was born in Valentia; but one meanly deſcended, yet of people of good repute. My Father got his livelihood by the labour of his hands, and the ſweat of his brows, being by profeſſion a Rope-maker. Me-thought I had ſome apprehenſions above my condition; and therefore unwilling to fall to my Father's laborious trade, I went into Caſteel, having before been in Andaluſia, and I made thoſe advantages of my Travel and the converſation I met with, and improv'd the natural Talent I had ſo well, that I never wanted either friends or mony. I came to this City in the company of a man named Criſpin, who had been a priſoner ſome time at Malaga, for ſome crime he would by no means acknowledge to me. The perſon hath oblig'd me, having born my charges all the way; nay more, he hath lent me mony, out of a confidence of the reality I had to ſerve him, in the ſecret trade we drove together. He declar'd his mind to me one day, and advis'd me, by ſome pretence or other, to get into your houſe, for he knew you had good ſtore of mony, and was deſirous to disburthen you of ſome part of it. From the diſcourſe he made, I inferr'd, that he had been a priſoner at Malaga for ſome robbery. Now to compaſs our deſign, we pretended a quarrel, which ſhould oblige me to take refuge in your houſe: and in the mean time, you have entertain'd me with ſuch extraordinary kindneſs, and have ſo nobly oblig'd me, that I find the favours you have done me will fruſtrate Crispin's intention. And therefore now that I acquaint you with the trick we deſign'd to put upon you, aſſure your ſelf I will endeavour to retort it upon himſelf, and get out of him what mony he hath, to chaſtiſe him for his folly. For heaven forbid I ſhould prove ingrateful to a perſon who hath oblig'd me ſo highly as you have done. I have diſcover'd my Soul to you, diſpoſe of me now as you think fit, for I am reſolv'd to periſh, ere I ever conſent you ſhall receive any injury, though I have diſclaim'd the quality, I had unjuſtly aſſum'd.

Rufina was extremely exaſperated againſt Criſpin, not ſo much for his deſign to be reveng'd on her for the prank ſhe plaid him at Malaga, but upon an apprehenſion that he might have acquainted Jaimo what kind of perſon ſhe was, and what trade ſhe drove. Whereupon conſdering that he had ſo ingenuouſly diſcover'd himſelf to her, and acknowledg'd even to the meanneſs of his birth, ſhe thought her ſelf oblig'd to do the like, and to give him a ſincere account of her deſcent, courſe of life, friends, in a word, all her adventures, to her arrival at Toledo. But Love and Wine make people talk more than they ſhould. Jaimo was glad that Rufina was no better deſcended than himſelf: that equality of condition not onely occaſion'd a greater kindneſs, but begat thoughts of a match, between them. They reſolv'd to leave Toledo, and to take up their habitation at Madrid; but Rufina told him, ſhe would firſt be reveng'd of Criſpin, who intended to ſerve her ſuch a baſe trick. Jaimo undertook it, telling her, that under pretence of their acquaintance and friendſhip, he might eaſily bring him into the nooſe, and not onely leave him mony-leſs, but alſo find him a good ſecure lodging, leſt he ſhould attempt to revenge himſelf.

With this reſolution, leaving Rufina's he went to Criſpin, whom he found at his lodging, not expecting to have ſeen him ſo ſoon. He was over-joy'd to heat how his Companion had inſinuated himſelf into Rufina's favour, whereupon the other telling him, that to make ſure work of her, he wanted a ſumme of mony, as well for expence, as to gain rhe Servants, the Apoſtate Hermite anſwered he ſhould not want it. By this means Jaimo thought to oblige him to a greater confidence of him, heightning the intended cheat with a thouſand oaths of an inviolable Friendſhip. Thus was that old experienc'd Turn-key of villany brought into a Fool's paradiſe; for, that Jaimo might live ſutably to the relation he had made of himſelf, he gave him a hundred pieces in gold, to be diſpos'd of as he pleas'd, hoping to have them return'd, attended with ſix times as many. He took them out of a bag where were five or ſix hundred more, ſome part of his former atchievments. Jaimo obſerv'd the place, where he put up that treaſure, and ſwore to himſelf, that he would not ſleep heartily till be had alter'd the property of that bag. While Criſpin was gone out to give the Hoſteſs order for a brace of Partridges and a Rabet for his, and his Camerade's ſupper, he went to the port-manteu, wherein the mony was gariſon'd, and opening the chain (a thing he could do as cleaverly as any of his profeſſion) took out the bag, and diſpos'd it into a place, whence he might eaſily remove it at his departure. They ſupp'd very merrily, which ended, Jaimo tooke leave of Criſpin, putting him over head and ears in hope, that he would bring his deſign to a period.

He went ſtraight to Rufina's, who it may well be preſum'd, receiv'd him very kindly. He gave her an account what had paſs'd between him and Criſpin, and how he had with his own mony promoted the deſign he had to chouſe him. Being alone with her, he ſhew'd her the goodly pieces, for ſhe had a great affection to mony of that colour. Jaimo repreſented to her, how much it concern'd them to leave Toledo, before Criſpin ſhould take notice of the loſs of his mony. Rufina told him, that ſhe knew an expedient for that, which was, to ſerve Criſpin such a trick at Toledo, as ſhe had done at Malaga. Having thereupon writ a large Letter to the Magiſtrate, whoſe province it is to perſecute ſuch people, they ſet things in order for their departure, and met with two Wagons, then going for Madrid, wherein they put their goods, taking onely the She-ſlave to wait on them. They went to the Court, where, as in a Sea, ſo many Rivers meet, having reſolv'd that Rufina ſhould not appear, till they had ſome news of Garay.

Leaving them there, let us ſee what was the effect of the Letter ſent to the Provoſt. As ſoon as he had read it, he went, according to the directions therein receiv'd, attended by ſome of his Officers, to Criſpin's lodging, who, impatiently expecting, that Jaim • ſhould make his way into Rufina's houſe, and thereby put him into poſſeſſion of all her mony, was taken in his chamber, and thence conducted to priſon. Not long before, one of the Judges of Malaga, had been at Toledo, to look for him, and not finding him, had left with the Provoſt ſome obſervations on his Phyſiognomy, by which, though the habit he then was in diſguiz'd him very much, it was more then preſum'd, that he was the perſon. They ſeiz'd on what he had in the houſe, among which he thought the Gold, which Jaimo had eas'd him of, had been, for he knew nothing of its departure, which happen'd well for the two Lovers, who were already diſlodg'd. The iſſue of his impriſonment, was, that, being put to the Torture, he could not keep his own counſel, and ſo was ſentenc'd to receive the reward of his confeſſions, Hanging. 'Twas Heaven's kindneſs towards him, that he ſhould end his days with ſome remorſe for his ſins, for though that be the ordinary exit of ſuch as engage themſelves in that wretched kind of life, yet are there many of them whoſe guilty ſouls, are, by ſword and piſtol, diſpatch'd into the other world, without the leaſt act of contrition. This was the end of poor Criſpin, who made a publick acknowledgment of all the robberies and villanies he had committed, while he was a Hermit, to the great edification of the people. He was alſo obſerv'd to have this generoſity, that he named not any perſon who had been engag'd with him in his deſigns; nay though he knew, the preſent misfortune had been procur'd him by his Friend Jaimo, yet he Chriſtianly forgave him and all the world at his death.

In the mean time Rufina and Jaimo were married as ſoon as they came to Madrid, but kept out of Garay's fight. He went ſoon after to Alcala, where he had been told his Wife was, but finding her not, he ſtruck in with ſome of his own Profeſſion, and the reſult was, that being ſurpris'd in a Robbery, they were all condemn'd to the laſh, and ſix years recreation in the Galleys. He was brought to the chain at Toledo, which eas'd his mind a little, for, thinking Rufina had been there ſtill, he writ a Letter to her, deſiring her, in regard ſhe had gotten all ſhe was worth by his co-operation and aſſiſtance, that ſhe would have compaſſion on him, and exempt him from that penance, by buying a Slave in his ſtead, a thing commonly practis'd. The Beater enquires for Rufina, where he had directed, but the Neighbours told him, that ſhe had left Toledo; ſo that honeſt Garay, burthen'd with Iron, Years, and Hardſhip, came to have that relation to his Catholick Majeſty, which he and many others, though they juſtly deſerv'd it, little expected to be preferr'd to.

On the contrary Don Jaimo liv'd like a Prince at Madrid, where he ſoon met with ſome of his own Conſtitution, a ſort of people, who, like Foxes, never fare better than when they are moſt curſt. They committed ſome ſecret Robberies, with ſuch caution and induſtry, that the Authors thereof could never be diſcover'd, whereby they were ſo fleſh'd and encourag'd, that they daily found out new deſigns. There was ſtarted up about this time at Madrid an excellent Company of Players, brought together by the exceſſive charge and liberality of a Grandee of Spain, a perſon of vaſt Wealth. What his deſign was in it, I know not, whether he did it out of charity, or for his particular divertiſement, or upon ſome other account to me unknown; but he made it his buſineſs to ſee it furniſh'd with all things requiſite. He was deſirous they might have the advantages of the Feaſt of the B. Sacrament, at which time, the Players of the City may, during all the days of the Octave, repreſent their Plays in the open ſtreets, where all are welcome without paying; and this is done every year at Madrid, at the time of that Feaſt. To effectuate his deſign, he bought them ſome new Plays of the beſt Poets in Spain, whom he paid well, and put upon ſome other pieces, for the accompliſhment of that famous Company. So that another Company, which was then at Madrid, being too weak to ſtand in competition with this, was forc'd to leave the City, and go to Toledo, where they had, from that Imperial City, the ordinary Salary for repreſenting the beſt pieces they had, at the ſame Feaſt. This new Company had the whole Court to it ſelf, and the ſaid Grandee gave them by way of advance four thouſand Crowns, to provide Cloaths ſuitable to the Pieces they intended to repreſent. This ſum of money was brought into the Houſe of one of the Players, an ingenious and underſtanding perſon, for whom the reſt had ſuch reſpect, that all things paſs'd through his hands; he alſo took care for all things, and gave a very faithful account thereof. He diſpos'd this money into a great Cheſt, whereof he always carried the Key about him. Jaimo's company ſoon had an inkling of it, and thinking it a noble prize to hook in that money, they propos'd ſeveral ways to compaſs it, but at laſt referr'd all their deliberations to Jaimo, whoſe advice they had, upon other occaſions, found the beſt. He deſir'd time to conſider till the next day. That night he ſpent in communicating the buſineſs to his Wife, whom he acquainted with the ſeveral propoſals of his Camerades. She gave him infallible directions how the buſineſs ſhould be effected. Jaimo had the reputation of being able to do ſomewhat in Poetry, upon which they laid the Plot, and it was approv'd by his Companions.

The next day, Jaimo was clad like a Scholar newly come from the Univerſity, in a Caſſock and long Cloak very bare, and ſpotted in many places. Thus accoutred, he ſmelt as ſtrongly of the Poet as if he had fed on nothing but Verſes from his Mother's milk. They fitted his Noſe with a good large pair of Spectacles, which were faſten'd to his Ears with a Lute-ſtring, a thing very common in Spain, and furniſh'd him with a huge broad-brimm'd Hat; in fine he had all things requiſite, to act the part of a ridiculous and extravagant Poet, which was the way they conceiv'd moſt likely to compaſs their deſign.

He went thus to the Comedians, who were met at their Theatre, and upon the rehearſal of a piece, which was to be repreſented within three days. He addreſs'd himſelf to the perſon who had the overſight of the Company, for he had enquir'd out his name, and coming to him with a great many congees, (after he had ask'd him how he did.) I am a Poet, Sir, ſaid he to him, ſo you take it not ill. The Comedian, as we told you, was a very apprehenſive perſon, and often had to do with ſuch phantaſms of extravagant Men, ſuch as Jaimo ſeem'd to be by that abrupt introduction. Many years may you be ſo, Sir, repli'd he, aſſure your ſelf, it ſhall not trouble me at all. The deſign of my ſtudies, ſays the other, was to become eminent in Divinity, that ſo I might be capable of a good Benefice, in order to which I have already taken the degree of Batchelour of Divinity, in the Univerſity of Iracha, with the great applauſe of all my Country-men; for I am a Biſcayan, to ſerve God, and your illuſtrious Company. I was born at the Town of Ordugna, and I have the advantage to be alli'd to the moſt honourable families of that ancient place. I am known by the name of the Batchelour Dominico Joancho, and my fame is great in my own Country, which I told you is Biſcay. There it was (not ſlighting the Talent, which it hath pleas'd Heaven to give me gratis, by cauſing me to be born a Poet) that I addicted my ſelf to the ſtudy of Poetry, wherein I have been wonderfully fortunate; and finding that all people admir'd my works, and many were importunate with me to publiſh them, I would needs make a trial what kind of fancy I might have in the writing of Plays. Thoſe I have made are not ſuch as are now in Vogue, written by ſome Novice Poets as I may call them; No, I thank Mercury and the Muſes, mine are of a kind of extraordinary ſtile, and I can furniſh you with a dozen at leaſt ready for the Stage. I am come to this Court, where there are excellent Wits, and I have had the honour to be eſteem'd here according to my worth, and I may without vanity affirm it, that the moſt humorous Judgements have acknowledg'd that my perfections are more than ordinary. But I think it my greateſt happineſs, Sir, that I flouriſh in the ſame Age with ſo noble and illuſtrious a Company, which may be called the Flower of all thoſe that ever were in Spain, in whoſe ſervice I would employ the Talent God hath beſtow'd on me, if your ſelf, and the reſt of your honourable Company be ſo pleas'd. What number of Plays I have promis'd you, all of my own Writing, you need but call for. As to the price, you are ſo reaſonable, that we ſhall not diſagree: Be pleas'd, Sir, to honour me ſo far, as to make me acquainted with the reſt of your Company, that they may give me their ſence, as to what I propoſe.

This Comedian was of an humour much different from many others of that Quality, who, when a Poet, whom they know not, comes to preſent them with a Comedy, ſlight him ſo far as that they will not ſo much as give him audience, as if that Divine Power, which hath inſpir'd thoſe that are in Vogue, had confin'd his gifts to them, and had nothing left to beſtow on others. But this Comedian, I ſay, was of a very jovial and pleaſant humour, and was glad of any ſuch occaſion to divert himſelf. So that meaſuring the inſide of the perſon by his out-ſide and diſcourſe, he told him, that he did them a tranſcendent honour, and that he gave him thanks in the name of the whole company. Then turning about to his Companions, Gentlemen, ſaid he to them, be pleas'd to take notice of the renowned Batchelor Dominico Joancho, a Nobleman of Biſcay and moſt excellent Poet, whoſe productions for the Theatre are beyond all admiration, and who proffers to exhauſt his precious vein for our's, having already finiſh'd at leaſt a dozen pieces, which he hath a deſire to ſhew us. The other Comedians, by the diſcourſe of their Camerade, and by the ill equipage, and worſe looks of the perſon, eaſily diſcover'd, that he and his wits were at a little diſtance, which oblig'd them to pretend, that they were extreamly engag'd to him, and ſo they all gave him, one after another, a very civil ſalute, which he very unhandſomely return'd. He who had firſt ſpoken to him, ask'd him, whether he would have the patience till they had done rehearſing, which would not be long, in regard they had gone over it three or four times before, and had now but ſome particular Scenes to look over, and then they would ſee ſome of his Pieces, if he would be pleas'd to communicate them; which he promis'd to do. He took a chair and ſate very quietly till the Rehearſal was over. By that time they had made an end, it was ſo near night, that they could not well do any thing without candles. They call'd for ſome, and ſitting all about him, they deſir'd him to read the titles of the twelve Comedies, which he ſaid were ready for the Stage. The counterfeit Author, who acted his part very pleaſantly, took a Paper out of his Pocket, and read to them, as followeth.

Theſe, ſays he, are the twelve Comedies I have already finiſh'd: I would not willingly have any of them repreſented before the laſt, becauſe the Adventure is of my own Country, and it is a moſt excellent Comedy, the contrivances of it are admirable, and I need give you no further commendation of it, than that it hath coſt me abundance of oil and time, and that I bit my nails above a hundred times at the writing of it.

The Comedians had much ado to keep their countenances, for they could hardly forbear laughing at extravagant Titles of the Comedies, and wiſh'd they had had more time to enjoy the converſation of the Biſcain Poet. He who had ſpoken to him firſt, giving him thanks in the name of the whole company; I am infinitely glad, Sir, ſaid he to him, that I have had the honour of coming to the knowledge of you, from your own ſelf, for till now, I muſt, to my ſhame, acknowledge, that I had not ſo much as heard of your illuſtrious name: you will injure your ſelf extremely, if you do not make the Court of Spain ſenſible of your excellent parts. I am therefore to intreat you, in the name of our whole Company, that you will be pleas'd to honour us with that Piece of yours, which you conceive moſt likely to take, though we queſtion not but your reputation is even beyond your own expreſſions of it. You know the cuſtom of Poets, when they are firſt to appear on the Stage, which is, to preſent it with the firſt Piece gratis; for what we ſhall receive from you afterwards, you ſhall be ſatisfi'd according to our agreement, and it is poſſible, they may pleaſe ſo well, that we ſhall act onely yours, for one year at leaſt; and rather than we ſhall be behind-hand with you, we ſhall not ſtick to borrow mony, though at ever ſo great intereſt. 'Tis now late, and ſupper-time calls us away, which ended, we ſhall have more leiſure to diſcourſe further, if you pleaſe to give me and my Companions the meeting at my chamber. There we hope you will communicate to us your thoughts of that Comedy, which you ſhall be pleas'd to recommend to us. If you leave it to my choice, as it is fit you ſhould, repli'd he, the Seignoreſs of Biſcay ſhall be the firſt I will read to you, for I have a confidence, by that, to raiſe my ſelf into the reputation of a good Author, and to acquire the eſteem of this Court. He who was the Speaker of the Company, ſaid to him, Will you be pleas'd, Sir, to give me a little ſatisfaction as to the Title of that Comedy; you call it, The Seignoreſs, whereby me-thinks it ſhould rather have been The Lady of Biſcay, that being a more uſual tearm. You are very much in the right, replies the feign'd Poet; but I do it purpoſely, for the King entitles himſelf onely Seignor of Biſcay, and not Prince, Duke, Earl, or Marqueſs: beſides I have another reaſon, why I do not call her Lady, but Seignoreſs, which is, that it rhimes with Princeſs, and all other words of the like termination. To this I may adde, that the word is new, and you know the times are ſuch now, that all the world runs after Novelties, even to the very loweſt ſort of people, who expreſs a certain diſguſt towards things common and trivial.

Your reaſons are beyond all expectation, replies the Commedian, and therefore I ſhall not trouble you much with further demands. No trouble at all, ſays the counterfeit Poet, you oblige me, for though you your ſelf may be ſatisfi'd as to my worth, yet ſome others here preſent may be glad of ſuch directions, as I onely am able to give them. Your moſt humble Servant, ſays the Comedian, then for their better information who you conceive may want it, give me leave to tell you, that I am not ſatisfi'd as to the title of one of your Plays, I mean that which you call Noah's Ark, I cannot imagine how you can accommodate that Piece to the Theatre, nor who can be the Actors, for I ſee but very few can be brought to ſpeak in it. I muſt pardon your ignorance of my deſign, replies the Poet, for if you knew it, you would admire the invention, which is wholly new. I bring in as Actors in that Piece all thoſe Creatures that are taught to ſpeak, as Parrats, Mag-pies, Jays, Starlings, Daws, and others, a thing never ſeen before, and which, for its novelty, muſt needs be admir'd.

They could hardly forbear laughing at his former diſcourſes, but this humour was ſo pleaſant, that it was impoſſible to hold, which oblig'd the Author to ask them very ſeriouſly what they laugh'd at. You ſee, Sir, ſays the Speaker, how likely this Novelty is to take with the people, ſince it makes us ſo merry, out of a conceit, that we ſhall make a great advantage thereby. No doubt of it, ſays the Poet. But no more, of the titles of my other Pieces, let us talk onely of that which I would have repreſented firſt. I ſhall hereafter, at more leiſure, ſatisfie the difficulties you have to propoſe concerning the other titles, whereof I ſhall give you the explication. It ſhall be ſo, ſaid he who had ſpoken to him; to which purpoſe, we ſhall deſire your company at my houſe anon after ſupper, where we ſhall all be ready to entertain you. Whereupon he took his leave, promiſing he would not fail to be with them.

Having made this progreſs in his buſineſs, he went and gave his Camerades an account thereof, and appointed them to wait about his houſe where the mony was. He undertook to keep the Company in play, while they ſhould do their work, which they would not be long about, having all the implements requiſite for men of their profeſſion. The Comedians, on the other ſide, prepar'd all things to ſhew him ſuch a trick, as his extravagance deſerv'd, getting ſome ſquibs and crackers made, to frighten him, if 'twere poſſible, out of the little wit he had.

His hour being come, he went to his houſe who had invited him, to read the Seignoreſs. He who expected him had provided what he thought requiſite to make ſport enough that night for the whole Company. The chief Comedian, ſeeing they were all met, told them that the Room was too narrow for the whole Company, and that they were better to appoint their meeting at the Theatre, where they ſhould not be diſturb'd. The feign'd Poet was glad to hear the propoſition, and ſeconded it, inaſmuch as, the coaſt being clear, his Camerades might the more eaſily diſpatch their buſineſs. It happen'd according to his wiſhes, for the Miſtreſs of the houſe, who had heard her husband and others of the Company talk of the extravagant Poet, and how they intended to ſerve him, would needs ſee the ſport, and leſt it might be late ere they return'd home, ſhe took all the ſervants, both men and maids, along with her; ſo that the Garriſon was clearly diſmantled. They brought the Poet to the Theatre with a great deal of ceremony, and plac'd him at the end of a Table, on which there were two candles. Having taken the Comedy out of his pocket, and the Company ſilently expecting, after two or three grave Hems, he began to read thus.

He then began to read the verſes, but after ſuch a ridiculous and extravagant manner, that when he had gone over about an hundred of them, the Players perceiving that the Piece contain'd many ſheets, cloſe written, and tir'd with the impertinence of what they had already heard, and withall that they had ſpent moſt part of the night ſo trivially, interrupted the Reciter with a kind of a buzzing noiſe. That was the Cue which the feign'd Batchelor expected, yet ſeeming to be angry at it, he clapp'd both hands on the Table with ſuch violence, that he ſhook the two Candleſticks, and cri'd out with a loud voice, Tacete, Tacete. But the Players and others that were preſent, not underſtanding the Latine, the noiſe increas'd, the table was over-turn'd, and the Candles were put out, and then all retiring from him, they ſet fire to the train they had laid for the poor Poet. He found himſelf encompaſs'd by a number of ſquibs and crackers, and long bags full of ſand like ſnakes, all in open hoſtility againſt him. He was in a very ſad pickle, for there was nothing but confuſion on the Theatre, beſides the flames of roſin which came up from beneath the Stage, and were ready to choke him, inſomuch that to cure him of all future thoughts of Poetry, there needed onely a gentle toſſing in a blanket. He ſeem'd to take it very unkindly, that he had been brought thither, to receive ſuch an affront, for beſides the danger his tinder Cloak and Caſſock had been in of a general conflagration, he loſt the Comedy, than whichthere could not a greater loſs happen to him. The Epilogue of the Piece was, that Jaimo's companions, while the Company was thus entertain'd at the Theatre, had found a way into the Comedian's houſe, and plaid the Ferrets in all the rooms, and examin'd the cheſts and trunks that ſtood in their way, in one whereof they found the mony they look'd for, which they cleaverly carried to Jaimo's houſe, where it was very fairly divided; and in regard Jaimo's wife had been the inventreſs of the Plot, ſhe had an equal ſhare with thoſe who had been emploi'd in the execution of it.

The next day, the Comedian going to take up certain ſtuffs for cloaths, was not a little aſtoniſh'd to find the cheſt open, and the mony fled. He was for a while at ſuch a loſs, that he knew not where he was. At laſt, he ask'd his wife who had been in the houſe? whereto ſhe could give him no account at all. He ſent people to abroad to ſearch, and acquainted the Magiſtrate with what had happen'd. The neareſt ſtreets to the houſe were viſited, but to no purpoſe. The poor Comedian went to relate his misfortune to the Grandee, of whom he had receiv'd that preſent. But he thinking it a cheat of the Comedians, would not believe him. He fell ſick out of pure diſcontent, and kept his bed, and then began to doubt it was a trick put upon him by that feign'd Poet, for whom he immediately caus'd a ſearch to be made; but he could never be found, for he and his Companions had taken a courſe for that. Theſe things being repreſented to the Lord, who had beſtow'd the mony on them, he was ſo generous as to ſupply them with the like ſum.

In the mean time, the Officers were ſtill upon duty, to ſee, whether, ſearching for the Poet, they ſhould meet with the Author of the Robbery. The indiſpos'd Comedian recover'd upon the ſight of the Mony's return into the cheſt. Jaimo and his Companions had a conſultation how they might trapan the Comedian of that recrute, but when it was propos'd to Rufina, who had always a voice in the Conclave, 'twas immediately quaſh'd, and ſhe prevail'd with her Husband to leave Madrid, ſince they had mony enough to retire elſe-where, and drive ſome trade therewith. Jaimo took her advice, and ſo leaving Madrid, they went into Arragon, and planted themſelves at Saragoſſa, the Metropolis of that Kingdom. They took a Houſe, and kept a Silk-ſhop, ſpending ſome time in that employment. What deſigns they were engag'd in during their abode their, and upon what account they were forc'd to remove thence ſhall be the ſubject of a Second Part of this work; wherein the Reader ſhall find Rufina, improv'd in ſubtilty by experience, contriving and compaſſing cheats much more pleaſant and more ingenious, than any ſhe hath been hitherto concern'd in, with a little aſſiſtance from her Husband Don Jaimo.