AS when insulting Neptune musters his turbulent waves against the boy­strous windes, and tosseth (sometimes) his billowes to the Sky, then hurries them againe into his rest­lesse bottome, seeming to threat the Earth with P [...]ssundation (yet all his stormes produce nothing but Froth, for the All-seeing Providence hath so set forth his bounds to the limits of her prefiction, that a small sandy bank bridles in his untam'd exorbi­tance.) Such is the vaine potency of [Page 2] men that oppose themselves to the de­crees of Heaven. In vaine doe Mo­narchs load the Ocean with Ships, and fill the Earth with Armies, if the great God of Hosts assist not in their Battells, these multitudes of Men, and all these Martiall preparations are soon of themselves dissolv'd and dis­sipated: They make great noise, but to so small purpose, for God is onely he that gives the Victory, reserving to himself the disposall of the Events of Warre, without respect to the dispa­rity of the Combatants. No force can Rout the Party he maintaines, for who can withstand his Chosen, or break those squadrons that have his Banners for Protection?

I speak this only, as calling to mind that numerous Army which the Em­perour, Charles the Fifth, brought by Sea and Land to sackage France, which he had already swallowed in his Fancy. It was at that time when he [Page 3] fell into Provence by the Coast of Genua, with so powerfull an Army, that it seem'd no force was able to oppose him. But God (who hath taken to his particular charge the pre­servation of this flourishing Monar­chy, since by his Holy Writ we are taught, that amongst all the Flowers the Lilly is his choisest favourite) cast confusion in the face of this mighty Prince, (who seem'd to place his con­fidence in the multitude of his Soul­diers.) And at the first sight of our King, Henry the Seconds Army, con­founded and overthrew all his De­signes, to shew him how vaine are all attempts against Gods immutable De­crees; and that the Honour of th' Im­mortall flower de Luce, shall continue as long as the World hath being. The Egyptians, said Israel, relyed upon the force of their Chariots, and their Horse-men, but Gods People put all their confidence in him, and onely [Page 4] trust in that Almighties aide that fram'd both Heaven and Earth.

The violent incursion of this so for­midable Hoste (compos'd of so many severall Nations, that the different Idioms made it seeme a kind of Babel) found an unexpected Remora; and in very short time was quite discomfited by a strange contagious Sicknesse that swept the men away by thousands, which blasted the Vaine hopes of the Ambitious Emperor. A certain French Gentleman that was taken Prisoner by the Spaniards, his horse being kill'd under him, gave a notable check to his aspiring thoughts by a witty and gene­rous Answer: This Prisoner being brought before the Emperor, amongst divers other Questions he was askt, How many dayes journey it was from Aix to Paris? The Gentleman well perceiving the scope of that demand, replyed, If by Journeys your Sacred Majesty doth meane Battels, (as in our [Page 5] language we say the Journie of Ra­venna, meaning the battell that was fought that day in that place) you will find them infinite: Giving the Empe­rour to understand thereby that France being so undrainable a Source of People, and so fertile a nursery of men, He could never be able to ac­complish his ends upon that Hydra, nor conquer, so Martiall and Heroick a nation with so much facility as he imagin'd. The gallantry of this gen­tlemans answer in the Condition he then was, so pleas'd the humour of this great Prince, that he esteem'd him much the more for it, and gave presently order that he should have all respectfull and honourable usage du­ring his Imprisonment.

Alwaies before a furious storme breaks out you see the Skie o're-spred with Vapours, the Clouds condense themselves, and the raine blacken in them: Lightning precedes the thunder [Page 6] and the noise is heard long ere the thunderbolt falls downe. The Ru­mour of these great forces which the Emperour brought from Italie and the Confines of Genua, bred an extream terrour in Provence: And as Seafaring men who foreseeing tempestuous wea­ther, hasten all they can to make into the Shore and bring their ships to ride in some safe Bay, so the affrighted people of Provence strive to secure their goods and persons within Cities, Castles and strong holds, where they may be sheltred from the Violence of this over-powerfull Enemy, and give testimony of their Valours by a cou­rageous resistance; But in regard the most considerable places of that Country were too weake defences a­gainst th' Impetuosity of so fierce a Torrent, the richest and most noble families pitch't upon Avignon, (a City belonging to the Pope) which standing neuter, and no way interessed [Page 7] in the differences betwixt these two Monarchs, was chosen as the fittest and securest place of refuge for the Gen­tlewomen and Ladies, where (as in a Sanctuary) they might preserve their honours, (dearer to such then life) from the violence and Insolency of the Souldiers: As for the men fol­lowing the dictates of true magnani­mity, they repaired all to their owne Princes Army, there in testimony of their Loyalty and valour to Sacrifice their blood and lives in the defence of their King and Country.

'Mongst these occurrences it hap­pen'd that there were two of the most remarkable families of that Province, who by the Contagion of their too neare vicinity had contracted so much of the Italians disposition, that they mutually inherited the hatred, as well as the possessions of their Ancestours. But as the helpelesse Larks, spying the greedy Marlin leave off the private [Page 8] Skermishes, and seeke by soaring wing to procure their safety, and free them­selves from the Pounces of their com­mon Enemy; So at the first appear­ance of the Imperiall Eagle upon the Ligurian shoare, these particular quar­rells were presently appeas'd, these adversaries trampling under feet all private grudges, to make a valiant and unanimous opposition against the publike Enemy of their King and Country. Whilst they respectively execute their Kings Commands, in offices and employments suitable to their births and abilities, their Ladies are in Avignon, where in imitation of their husbands gallantries in this pub­like affliction, they make a shew of so much reciprocall amity and free­dome, that by their carriage every one thought they had beene perfectly re­concil'd, and had forgotten all former enmities; so crafty is that faithlesse Sexe, that can so dextrously cover the [Page 9] burning coales of their malicious practices under the white ashes of so faire a dissimulation; Sexe no lesse subtile and addicted naturally to paint their hearts then their faces, and hide an irreconcileable hatred under the most specious veile of seeming friend­ship.

But this great designe of the Em­perour's, who aimed at nothing lesse then conquering all France, Vanished into smoake, as the history of those times teacheth us, (to which I remit him that is more curious, to be more fully satisfied) this proud Peacock was enforc't to trusse up his glorious tail: And of so great thunder & storm there remain'd nothing but dirt and water; In a word he left Provence with as much shame as he had gotten it with glory, like a straw fire as soone quench'd as kindled. He being re­treated to his owne Seate in Germany, the King having given order for repa­ration [Page 10] of the breaches and spoiles this forraigne Army had made in his Country, and disbanded his owne, retired to Paris, his Metropolitan City, the residence of his Court and Center of his Kingdome: And those of Provence went to repossesse their former habitations.

But as these publike troubles had qualified for a time th' Inveterate en­mity of these two families (whence I derive the processe of this discourse) the publike Peace reviv'd it. As the suppressing of fire in a close Furnace augments the heate, and as a stiffe­running streame swell's and redouble's it's rapidity the more it finde's oppo­sition: So this forc't retention in­creas'd their animosity; besides in pro­bability, Ambition and Envy, (two spurres of the Emulation which com­monly growe's 'twixt equalls) might re-enkindle this hatred upon occasion of service in the Army, where each [Page 11] Chiefe by advancing his owne for­tune strove to out-vie his Competitor. Insomuch that being return'd to their owne mansions (which were not far a­sunder) after this publike storme rose a particular one betwixt them, so Vi­olent that it could not be allayed with­out the effusion of much blood. Ac­cursed Duell, Scourge of our Nation, disturber of our tranquillity, wherefore must thou destroy in the sweetnesse of a quiet Peace, those whom the Sword had spared in the fury of a raging Warre?

Silvin and Poliecte (the two Ene­mies) desirous by this last encounter to set a period to all their differences (which would never be composed by the mediation of all the friends they had) seek to make parties & Confede­racies on each side, and levy a kind of petty civil war in Provence. In the end to avoid shedding of much blood, they resolv'd upon a forme of battell of six, [Page 12] against sixe, and to end all their dis­cords, by the death of the one or the other party. Silvin chose his brother and foure of his Allies for his assist­ants against Poliecte and his Associ­ates. Poliecte had a hopefull gentle­man to his Sonne, about twenty yeares of age, newly come from the Acade­mie, very expert on horsebacke and at his weapon and of a Courage answer­able to his dexterity. As soone as this gallant heard of his Father's engage­ment against Silvin, he would needs be of the Party; but the Father having no other Children, was so tender of him, that he could not be perswaded to let him expose himselfe to that dan­ger, thinking that although his owne fortune might be to dye in that Com­bat, his Sonne surviving would keepe up the name and honour of the fami­ly. But Laurean being youthfull and of a fiery Spirit, was enrag'd at his Fathers resusall, and vowed he would [Page 13] precipitate himselfe into a thousand deaths rather then suffer his Father to engage without him. Poliecte no way distrusted his agilitie nor his gal­lantrie, but fear'd the tendernesse of his youth, of the mature vigour and experience of those whom his Enemy had taken for his seconds. At last Laurean exclaimed, intreated, conjured, and stormed so much that his Father was enforc't to condescend to his de­sire, and suffer him to measure his Sword with Fructule Silvin's brother and second.

Without troubling my selfe to de­scribe every particular of this Com­bate, not to speake according to the Proverbe, as a Clerke at armes; I will relate you onely the Event, which was thus. Silvin was kill'd out-right by Poliecte's owne hand, Fructule woun­ded and disarmed by Laurean, two others of Silvin's side slaine in the field, the other two put to flight: of [Page 14] Poliecte's party, onely kept the dead Adversaries company, another escap'd unhurt, but the foure others were so desperately wounded, that Poliecte and his sonne were carryed off as dead; and although the glory of winning the Field was theirs, it was a dear-bought Victory. They were carryed to A­vignon, where their Wives yet re­mained. The one received newes of her Husbands death, with such inces­sant skreeking and complaints, as passe all tearmes of expression; the other was not much lesse aggrieved, seeing her Husband and her Sonne in so de­plorable a condition, that their deaths seem'd neerer by much then their re­covery. Fructule was also brought thither, but through the losse of so much blood he had such frequent Syn­copes, that every moment 'twas thought he would expire. Fortunate (Silvin's wife) receiv'd her Brother-in-law in this dolefull equipage, and with [Page 15] Clione (her Husbands onely daugh­ter and heiresse) so carefully ten­ded him, that within some daies there were evident signes of his recovery. Eulalie, Poliecte's wife, was no lesse bu­sied about her Son and husband, whose desperate wounds put her in con­tinuall apprehension of their deaths. Her conjugall and motherly afflictions bred in her most insupportable affecti­ons, for her heart being equally ballan­ced, and bearing a share in both their sufferings, could no way condescend to the loosing of either of those so neerely and so dearely beloved per­sons. But the Heavens not willing to keepe her soule any longer suspended betwixt these two Idols determined to take one of them: Both were so neare death, that 'twas thought, one while the Father, another while the Sonne would leade the way; these sad uncertainties gave strange convulsions to the dolefull heart of Eulalie. At last [Page 16] Poliecte, who was more perplex't for his Son then for himselfe, obtain'd at length what oft he had desired, which was, that by the shortning of his dayes his Son's might be prolonged. So he deceased after long languishing and many pangs which his patience and true repentance made very instru­mentall to the expiation of his of­fences.

His death was conceal'd from Lau­rean as much as might be, lest that sorrow added to the extreame anguish of his wounds should cut in sunder the weake spun thread of so fraile a life; as soon as there appear'd some symp­tomes of health in him, and that the Consolidation of his wounds gave hopes of his recovery, I know not how the losse of his Father came unto his knowledge, but whether through the motives of his owne good disposi­tion, or the great affection he bare to­wards him that gave him his being in [Page 17] this world, or the suddainnesse of the griefe which seized him unprepar'd, or whether as yet not throughly having gathered strength, but still languishing with paine, his heart was insufficient to resist so violent an assault, this news so strongly wrought upon his fancy, that falling into a continuall feaver with extravagant ravings, he was pos­ses'd with a melancholly Imagination that he was dead himselfe. These kinds of diseases which trouble and pervert the sense and Judgement are the Physitians crosses, and which they hold the least incurable of any; for what remedies can be applyed to one that esteemes all medicines uselesse, or out of a wilfull obstinacy refuseth to take any? This or worse was poore Laurean's condition, none could per­swade him to take any kind of nutri­ment, saying that dead Bodies did not eate, and that it was ridiculous, and a­gainst nature to take any victualls▪ no [Page 18] prescriptions of the Physitians, no re­monstrances of Religious men, nor the incessant teares of the bewailing Mother, could prevaile any thing up­on his opiniative obstinacy, untill one of his owne Servants extremely perplex't at his Masters malady, be­thought himselfe of an ingenious Stra­tagem, which proved no lesse profita­ble then pleasing. He knew that men tainted with such Hypochondriake diseases, are sooner cur'd by conde­scending to their humours, then con­tradicting them; for crossing them doth but imprint their folly deeper in the braine, which nothing but some witty querk of invention can deraci­nate: so faining himselfe dead, he was lay'd upon a bed in Laurean's sight, and there taking such meat as was brought to him, at last bred an appe­tite in his Master, who resolv'd, to imitate the dead man, and eate as he did. By this means, by little and little, [Page 19] his braines began to settle, and propor­tionably as he recovered strength of body, those melancholly Vapours dispersed themselves, which obfuscated his imagination, and his youthfulnesse added to the cure, and remedies ap­plyed to him, called him back from Deaths dore to the hope of a happy re­covery, and in short time his wounds being throughly heal'd, he re-enjoyed as perfect health as ever. But as all worldly pleasures seldome are entire, he scarce had left off mourning for his Father, but he was re-obliged to the like sadnesse, both of heart and habit, for the decease of Eulalie, who quite overcome with sorrow for her hus­bands death, and the continuall feares she was in for her Sonne, fell into a lingring disease, which consuming in­sensibly her spirits, enforc'd her at last to follow her so much beloved Poli­ecte, leaving Laurean the most discon­solate man living.

[Page 20]Now let us see what passeth in the Adversary Silvin's family, where mer­cilesse Death sweeping all before him, makes dolefull evidences of his un­controuleable puissance, yet neverthe­lesse the coldnesse of his ashes is not of force enough to extinguish the coales of their implacable anger; their hatred passeth the grave, which in my judgment is too large an extent, and ought to be the utmost point, the ex­tremity of any malice should reach unto. Fortunate not being able to ad­mit in the wounds (which the griefe for Silvin's losse had caused) the in­gredients of any Consolation, never considering that the Combate where 'twas his chance to fall, was fairly car­ryed without any treachery; and that Poliecte himselfe, though not kill'd in the field, was since dead of the wounds her husband gave him, and that Lau­rean had escaped no better then Fructule: Incens'd with furious ap­petite [Page 21] of revenge, breathes nothing in the eares and heart of Clione but a desire to procure the death of Laurean. Most wicked woman who not satisfied with so much blood as is already spilt; wilt thou yet bathe thy selfe in his, whom the Heavens had preserved from so many dangers? Shee would faine perswade her brother-in-law Fructule to fight againe with Laurean, but he not ignorant of the lawes of armes, retain'd himselfe within the tearmes of his profession, expecting some other occasion to satiate the irreconcileable hatred he bare Poli­ecte's heire. At last Death sent his Summons to Fortunate by an impla­cable messenger, a burning Feaver, yet the violence of her disease could not make her heart relent, nor renounce her unworthy desire of Vengeance; but she bound her daughter with this execrable Oath, never to marry any man, but such as should first bring [Page 22] her Laurean's head, as a sacrifice to her Father's Ghost. Whether she dy­ed absolutely in this minde or not I cannot say, but I'le assure you after her death, Clione kept but too severely the promise she had made her Mother, although it be rather an act of irreligi­on then of piety to observe so ill­grounded engagements.

Being now her Uncle Fructule's ward her beauty, which was transcendent, & the noise of her great riches, made her the mark that the ambition of the most considerable persons of that Province aymed at. But she's a second Atalanta, her love cannot be purchased without the hazard of the suitors life, she makes her self the price of Laureans head, so deeply her Father's death, & the pres­sing perswasions of her dying Mother, had engraved in her heart the hatred of this innocent gentleman. But com­monly ill intents have bad events, and sad repentance followes for the most [Page 23] part all unadvised enterprises; Foure of the most eager aspirers to the acqui­sition of this golden fleece, one after the other receiv'd a due chastisement for their temerity. The first remained a Cripple all his life, bearing in his de­formity a perpetuall marke of Laure­an's Valour, the second was kill'd in the field, the third delivered shame­fully his armes, and the fourth had serv'd as a trophy to Laureans gallan­try, if friends comming in had not se­parated them, and ravished this palme from our Champion.

In meane time, as the same waters of the deluge which over-flowed the world, raised the Arke to the very Heavens, so the same meanes which Clione had invented to destroy her ene­my, were to him as steps and degrees of Glory: For 'tis incredible how much the successe of these combats increased his reputation; and although the act in it selfe was not commen­dable, [Page 24] yet the cause (in regard he aymed at nothing but his owne de­fence) seem'd so just, that his praises were trumpeted out by the very mouths of those that were jealous and envious at his honour. Seeing he was the onely object of Clione's inveterate hatred, and that like Hydra'es heads, the defeating of his Adversaries begat him fresh Encounters: his friends ad­vised him often to absent himselfe from Provence, and go to the Court, where the Kings presence might be a meanes to hinder the no lesse frequent then insolent provocations of Clione's franticke Lovers. But he was so farre from consenting to these perswasions, that he slighted and rejected them as frivolous, and contrary to his honour and courage, fancying (like the Lace­demonian King) that no man was stronger, or better then himselfe as long as he could hold his Sword. And indeed this inflexible magnani­mity, [Page 25] scorning the dangers he was like to fall into every moment, made his Valour so cryed up through the whole Country, that the most inconsiderate and stoutest of Clione's Suitors became more moderate, and learned at the ex­pence of other mens sad fates to seeke the enjoyment of her, without inte­ressing themselves in the Vindication of her unjust passions.

In short time she found no body would love her, nor that would hear­ken to her when she offered her selfe, as the price and recompence of a mur­ther. Wives purchased with bloud are not usually beloved: It being a thing not ordinary to take a Wife pur­posely to put ones life in hazard, but rather to preserve it, for the generation of hopefull Successours. So that ha­ving lost all her hopes on that side, finding no body that to obtaine her favour would coap with the Victori­ous Laurean, she fell into a profound [Page 26] melancholly, which made her take the most extravagant and furious resolution that could be imagined. She determines to execute her designe with her owne hand, but knowing how redoubtable Laurean's vigour was, and that naturall weakenesse of her sexe was incapable to resist the Vio­lence of his invincible fury, she studies how to compasse by subtilty that which she despair'd by strength of armes to accomplish. After long ra­ving and musing which way to effect her intention, she resolves to transvest her selfe, and getting into Laurean's Service, to watch her opportunity to murder him; but she suddainly recan­ring that enterprise, considering how shrmefull a thing t'would be for a young Lady of her quality, to goe a­lone disguised in that manner, and to how many ill censures she should ex­pose her honour by so extravagant and unadvised an action; besides she [Page 27] thought it almostimpossible to procure a Maid of confidence and courage enough to follow her, in so hazardous an attempt. Yet Heaven which had de­creed the event, far different from her intention, suffered her not to remain long in this perplexity, by putting into her hands a bold Virago, who like ano­ther Sara offered her selfe to wait upon this couragious Judith in her perilous designe, and to put in execution what Commands soever she would lay up­on her; But then presently she found a­nother difficulty of no lesse consequēce then the former, which was, how they should get out of their house, and retire thēselves awhile out of the sight of Fru­ctule her Unkle & gardian, who watcht her with no lesse Vigilancy then the restlesse Dragon that had in keeping the apples of the Hesperian garden. But t'is in vaine to strive to prevent a woman that is wilfully resolved, the inventions they have to precipitate [Page 28] themselves into their own destruction, infinitely exceed any thought that can be imagin'd to preserve them.

Clione faines her selfe much trou­bled with those obstructions which alter the Complection of so ful-blown roses in a Virgins cheekes, and throw downe the fresh colours of the maiden blush, placing in their stead the pale ensignes of the Lilly: And having well greased her Doctours hand to prescribe in her Uncle's hearing the re­medy which she desir'd, he ordered her to goe to the Baths and drinke the water of Baquieres, which are in Bigorre, a Province of Guyenne, at the foote of the Pyrenean mountains. Fructule condescends to the underta­king of this journey, which she so much desired, and the Physitian af­firmed was necessary for her health. Amongst other lands and houses which she inherited by her Parents decease, there was one in low Langue­doc, [Page 29] just in her way where she intend­ed to put in practice her Stratagem. She had to attend her two men and two maid Servants, whereof her faith­full Melicerte was one. They were no sooner come to this house in low Lan­guedoc, but Clione counterfeited her selfe so sick, and so stopped with these opilations, that resolving to stay there till she could procure some remedy for this disease, (which she so cunningly dissembled, that the most curious ob­servours might have beene deceived) she sent back her Uncle's two men, re­serving onely her maids about her, which with the helpe of her Farmer's family she judged sufficient for her present Service. Now she is farre e­nough out of Fructule's sight, Melicer­te is onely privy to her enterprise: as for the other maide, she easily found seeming pretexts enough to turne her away, and the good honest Farmer is satisfied with any thing shee's pleas'd [Page 30] to tell him. By this meanes she see's her selfe in a full liberty of executing her extravagant purposes. She causeth to be bought her two horses with good weapons, two mens cloathing for her selfe and Melicerte, and having cut their haire (a strange resolution) and fitted themselves to their minds, they rode towards Laurean's house.

Being lodged in a neighbouring Village, Clione, under the name of Flo­rent, and Melicerte calling her selfe Nartal, they gave out that they were Languedochian youths that wanted ser­vice: since they have now taken the names and habits of men, we will speake of them whilst they continue thus, as of men, their enterprise being bloudy and Martiall. In short time they insinuate themselves into the ac­quaintance of some of Laurean's fol­lowers, 'mongst whom they learn't that their Master was a great lover of musick, finding it the onely so­lace [Page 31] and Charme to divert the me­lancholy his generous minde was afflicted with, seeing himselfe the onely object of the malicious practises of such implacable Enemies. Florent could Sing so exquisitely to the Lute, that his voice seemed to declare no lesse than an exact agreement betwixt the vocall and instrumentall Musick, thereby charming the rocks into such a posture, as if they had danced mea­sures to that Harmony. Nartal had no such pleasing Voice, but he had so excellent a hand upon the Virginalls, that joyn'd in concert with the Lute, and Florents admirable Voice made so Harmonious a melody, that it sweetly stole out at the Ears the Soules of all the hearers. These plea­singly deceitfull allurements, our Sy­renes make the prologue of the de­testable tragedy they intended against this innocent Ulisses. At last some of his Servants that had heard them pre­sented [Page 32] them to Laurean, whose eares being infinitely ravish'd with their in­comparable Harmony, and his eyes no lesse taken with their winning counte­nances and demeanure: he conjured them to make his house their lodging, assuring them to treat them like per­sons of noble Extraction, (as he dee­med them to be) and that they should command all he had as freely as him­self. The cunning Females perceiving with what impernosity their prey cast himself into the snares they had prepa­red for him, made many seeming excu­ses, & refusals of his Civility, although they desired nothing more than to re­maine there; but that was meerly to engage Laurean into deeper Conjura­tions, and to cover their staying with the colour of constraint. At last (like Hellen) they were forc'd with their own consents. Laurean gives them honourable entertainment, Feasts them in the highest manner he can, [Page 33] knowing how fantasticall Musicians naturally are; and how hard it is to hold these Protheuses which change places and humours as often as they vary their tunes and notes.

Oh the Admirable effect of Civility and courtesie! which wrought so powerfully upon Florent's disposition, that presently it chang'd his resolu­tion. His heart like Lead melts all at once, and love takes full possession of that brest, where a mortall and impla­cable hatred had so long kept his resi­dence. Laurean is so ready in doing Florent all obliging and civill offices, that his heart must have beene com­pos'd of Steel or Marble if it had not relented at such evident testimonies of affection: And Florent being of no rocky substance, nor compos'd of any other insensible matter, remarked so much grace and Comelinesse in Lau­rean's person, such pleasing discourse and so winning behaviour, that by [Page 34] little and little his perfections made a most ardent impression in the heart of this Virago. Who can but admire this change? she that came purposely to surprise, is her self surprised, and wounded to the heart; she is become a friend, nay a passionate Lover, that went out a Capitall Enemy, and with the most felonious and detestable in­tention, that the malice of the mor­talest and most inveterate hatred ever could suggest. What various thoughts now agitate her disquiet mind? What pleasure now she takes in the presence and Conversation with Laurean? Now if she could perswade her selfe that Laurean would ever beare as much love to Clione, as he makes shew of inclination to Florent, she should esteeme her felicity a degree beyond infinite.

Nartal observing his Companion very pensive and Melancholly, thought that the apprehension of the danger, [Page 35] and the difficulty of atchieving their enterprise, had beene the occasion of his discontent: But how much was he mistaken in his conjecture, since Florent now desires as vehemently the preservation of Laurean's life, as formerly he had thirsted after his death. Nartal endeavoureth to en­courage him to pursue their designe, perswading him that those testimonies of affection which Laurean shewed them, would be a meanes for them to accomplish with more facility their intention; too much Confidence opening the gates to perfidious trea­cherie, as much as mistrust is Mother of security. But how much did he finde Florents Courage and resolution altered, and what amazement seiz'd him when he heard expressions of af­fection proceed from the same mouth that had uttered so many menaces a­gainst Laurean, whilst the heart which gave her tongue it's motion [Page 36] [...] [Page 37] [...] [Page 36] was fraught with so much gall and rancour.

Having resolv'd with my selfe to a­bandone all that might breed tedious­nesse in my histories, I cannot without countervening my resolution now re­late the severall discourses upon this occasion betwixt these two disguised damsels. In the upshot Clione that had not been ashamed to discover to Melicerte to what extremity her rage and malice against Laurean had trans­ported her, thought it no dishonour to confesse the new flame his merits had kindled in her breast. This Confession much satisfied Melicerte's curiosity, though she dissembled it as much as might be, and fed Clione with hopes of terminating their designe with Joy and Contentment, notwithstanding so difficult and knotty a beginning. But a businesse of this intricacy could not be so easily disembroil'd. The re­spects of honour retaine Clione from [Page 37] making her selfe knowne to Laurean, but much more forbad her to discover the extreame passion wherewith her heart was inflamed for him. On th'o­ther side, he, whether through a secret instinct of nature, more forcible then any artificiall disguisements, or by the sweetnesse of Florents behaviour and Musicall charmes, or by any other private motive, he knew not what, he could not without great resentment absent himselfe from the company of these new guests, and when the night constrained him to retire into his Chamber, and called them to theirs, It was but to spin out the howers instead of sleeping in continu­all ravings, which still began againe when he did thinke to end them, losing himselfe in a Labyrinth of restlesse Imaginations. Who ever saw a blinde Creature in Love with a thing he never saw, and passionately seeking after that he loves without knowing [Page 38] what it is: Such is the disquietnesse of Laurean's troubled minde, vehe­mently desiring he knowes not what, and suffering strange effects, whose cause he was not able to for penetrate. Weake is the force of art against the instinct of Nature, Florent's perfecti­ons display their attractive power through the Shadowes of all these arti­ficiall disguises.

It's true, 'twas no small Alarum which Love gave to Clione's heart, where triumphing like a Victorious Generall, he put all other passions to the route, and made a strange disor­der in her brest. But Laurean's distem­per is farre greater, feeling sometimes much pleasure in his passion, then pre­sently tormented with Dolours unex­pressable, being inclin'd to love an object which he could not enjoy in the manner he did desire. How oft did he accuse Nature of mistaking, in placing in the body of a man (as he [Page 39] thought Florent to be) beauty and qualities that seemed much more Sui­table to a Lady; for the lineaments of his face were in his eye so exquisite, his complexion so delicate, his dis­course so quainte, his Voyce so femi­nine, his gestures so comely, and all his actions so little savouring of any Martiall breeding, that he was much perplex't to finde such rare perfections in a person whom the Divine lawes, as well as those of Nature, forbade him to love with that horrible lust which so much defameth th'Orientall cli­mates, but never so much as entreth into the thoughts of the Septentrio­nalls. How much did it torment him to withdraw his eyes from an object which was so pleasing that he could never satisfie himselfe with looking upon it, and yet could not contem­plate it without a Crime? had he lived in the age of the Metamorpho­ses, how would he have importun'd [Page 40] the Heavens to have made one accor­ding to his desire? Amongst many o­ther particulars that passed whilst Flo­rent and Nartal remained in Laurean's house: I will only relate two or three, which seeme no lesse remarkable than delightfull.

One day, as they were discoursing of the Combates, which this Gentle­man had fought against those, that through the instigations of Clione had challeng'd him; there was one of the Company that fell into high Exclama­tions against the Cruelty and Malice of that Lady, reviling her with the tearms of a Viper, a Fury, and a Fell-savage Beast; wishing her out of the world, that Laurean's life might be secured from so many dangers, to which her irreconcileable hatred dayly exposed him. For in effect, every moment he expected such kind of Messages; and every time any one knockt at his Gates he fancyed himself to be in one [Page 41] of those enchanted Castles of the An­cient Romans, where those that re­mained must alwayes be ready arm'd, and in a posture to answer some new Challenge: But Laurean not suffering him to proceed in such Violent rail­ings against a Lady that he esteemed full of Honor. You blame her (says he) for her hatred to me, and do not con­sider that it proceeds from the extream love she beares to the memory of her Parents. Her Mother dying, made her swear my Ruine, as Asdrubal, made Hannibal and Amilcar, his Children, swear the destruction of the Romans, and make a solemne Vow upon the Altars never to be reconciled to them. And in this she doth an act both of Honour and Piety in so severely keep­ing her Oath and Promise. Besides, according to the Lawes and Maximes of the world, who knowes not that Re­venge is held a point of Courage and Magnanimity? If she be possessed [Page 42] with this Errour, she doth but fol­low the streame of the generall opini­on, which transports oft times the most discreet, and considerate persons: Moreover, she takes me (if not for her Father's murtherer) at least for the Son of him that kill'd him; and in this re­spect how can she but abhor me? and why should not she endeavour to de­prive him of life whom she looks on as her Fathers Homicide? It is true, I could object many very lawfull ex­cuses, in regard the Battell was fought according to the Lawes of Armes without Treachery; and that my Fa­ther is since deceased of the wounds which he received from hers: that my hands were not otherwise dipped in her Fathers blood, but in the just defence of my own Fathers cause and quarrel; and that I my self was brought off the Field with more probability of Death than Life. But a heart possess'd with prejudice, and ulcerated with an incu­rable [Page 43] passion can admit of no reason, though never so just; if the light of Truth and Equity could but once pe­netrate the brest of this faire Enemy, with it's resplendent rayes, and dissi­pate the misty clouds of this savage and inhumane Opinion which she hath conceiv'd against me, I am confident it would abate her fury, and that she would acknowledge me to be more ready to honour, and serve Ladyes of her quality and merits than shee ima­gines. I have had the thought a hun­dred times to write her this resentment of my Soul, (that being the onely meanes I had to accost her) for my sight I know is most odious to her: But a vaine shadow of honour still re­tained me, fearing lest she should make trophyes of my Letters; and that some indiscreet readers might believe that the apprehension of Death had dictated them to me, seeing my selfe daily attack't with fresh Combatants; [Page 44] and no sooner cured of my first wounds, but enforc'd to hazard the opening them again in a second Duel. Indeed had I but one Enemy to deal with, in a moment our difference would be ended by the death of one, or other, but I must Encounter as many as the Beauty of my dear Ene­my (which charmes even those that have the least inclination to love) pro­duceth every day. I believe really, that nothing but death can release me from this misery; It being impossible but that Hercules himself must at last fall under so many Adversaries. But besides the comfort I have from the goodnesse of my Cause, (which is but a just defence) so that I die honoura­bly, without any staine to my reputa­tion, I am satisfied. Happy beyond my deserts if this faire Enemy having sacrific'd me to her Vengeance by the hand of some new Lover, may one day acknowldge her Errour, and how [Page 45] she had shortned the dayes of a Gen­tleman of Honour, that ambitioned nothing more than to be her Ser­vant.

These last words pronounc'd so feelingly, and with such a grace, as was enough to have made the very rocks sensible of a relenting disposition, struck Florent's heart with such ten­dernesse, that the blood started out of his eyes, and the teares trickling like Pearles of dew amongst the Roses of his cheeks, augmented much that beau­ty, which Laurean contemplated but with too much attention. Perceiving his teares, What, Florent, (said he) is it the default of my courage that breeds this effect of pitty in you? No▪ no, doe not thinke, though I am called every day to Death's doore, that I will ever abate the least punctillio of Ho­nour, which is so hereditary to my Family: Rather bewaile the mis-for­tune of those, that through Clione's [Page 46] meanes have fallen by my Victorious hand. So unworthy a diffidence (re­plyed Florent) never entered into my thought, the proofes that you have given of your Valour in so many oc­casions are so publicke, that he must be a great stranger in this Province that is ignorant of them; I am onely sorry that such eminent vertues should be so unjustly exposed to the Cruelty of a barbarous Maid, who cannot de­serve (for so many unworthy actions) that you should esteeme so highly of her as you have exprest: And I believe if she knew your true worth, she would change her animosity into affection, whereby you might gather the roses of friendship in the same plot, that produced you the thornes of hatred. But that which forceth me to shed these teares, is the Sorrow that op­presseth me to see so generous and spotlesse a life exposed to so many deaths, and to such a Continued suc­cession [Page 47] of tragicall adventures. Would to God that I were able with the effu­sion of my blood to secure you from these troubles, or worthy to receive so much honour from you as to goe a sharer with you in your dangers, for I shall never esteeme my life better employed then when it is expos'd to doe you service. These complements issued so gracefully out of that sweet mouth, that Laurean melting with such enchanting language, had much adoe to refraine from teares, and ex­presse himselfe in tearmes suitable to his passion.

It chanc'd at that same time that Laurean was visited in his house by a kinswoman (whose name was Octavi­ane) daughter to one of Poliecte's Sisters, and whose Father had beene engaged in the long quarrell betwixt Silvin and Poliecte, whose cause (for the mothers sake) he strove to main­taine and justifie. This Lady hearing [Page 48] of her kinsman's sad condition, being every day in danger of his life through the provocations of Clione's Cham­pions, ful of a Courage not ordinary in her Sex, and animated with a strange Rodomontado like disposition, came purposely to break to him the designe she had to challenge Clione to fight with her, and so with each of them a dagger to revenge upon one another their Father's Deaths. An heroick re­solution for a maide, had not despaire beene the principall motive to it. Laurean received her with the greatest testimonies of respect, friendship and Courtesie, that could be shewed to so neere a kinswoman, and so gallant a Lady. But when she discovered her designe (although he admired her Amazonian Courage) he could not hold from laughing to see how vehe­ment the desire of revenge was in a Sex of so much imbecility, like fire that flames with so much violence when [Page 49] it meets with any light and combusti­ble materiall. Thence he took occa­sion to excuse within himself Clione's fury, who used all means possible to be reveng'd of him by her Lovers; since Octaviane would expose her owne life to so extream, and almost inevitable danger to seek satisfaction for her Fa­ther's death. Oh could he have pene­trated the secret of darknesse, and dis­covered Florents disguise, he would easily have perceived that Clione's spirit was enrag'd with no lesse fury against Octaviane! He absolutely disapproves of his kinswoman's proposition, telling her it was not onely a furious rash en­terprise, and contrary to all reason, but impossible to be effected; and that comming to the knowledge of the world, it would make her the Ta­ble-talk of all France.

Octaviane much distasted would not bate one Ace however of her reso­lution; and what she had communi­cated [Page 50] to him in private, she spared not to speak openly, and in Florent's owne hearing (whom she did not take to be Clione) which struck this dis­guised Damsell so to the heart, that her Face became like a Rain-bow for di­versity of Colours; and you may well think her spirit was agitated with no lesse diversity of thoughts. Her heart working like the troubled Sea, one while she resolved to accept Octavi­ane's defiance, and engage, that Clione should meet her; then the fear of dis­covering her self enforc'd her to bridle that impetuosity. But that which stretch'd the pin of Florent's patience to the uttermost, was, to hear Octa­viane in a Raunting manner say, I have no lesse Noble blood in me, nor am I in­feriour in Estate to that inexorable murtheresse; and if my Lovers flatter me not, nor my owne Glasse deceive me, I think Nature hath been no lesse favourable to me than her: I have [Page 51] Suitours as well as she, who all make me the highest protestations that may be. Were I as cruelly minded as that barbarous Imp; or had I as little pity upon those that make Love to me, I could impose the same Law upon them, and enjoyne them to fight with those that she employes to revenge her Father's death upon a man that's no way guil­ty of it. But rather then to be the cause of so much Blood-shed, I will En­counter her my selfe with a Poniard, and make a passage with my Blade for that Black Soule to sally out of her cankered Brest. Here Florent was fain to suppresse his Choller with both hands, and strive to keep himselfe within the bounds of modesty; part­ly out of respect of his owne Ho­nour, and partly out of hope to Cha­stise, by effects, the insolency of those outragious words. And indeed, with­in a very little time, fortune gave him fit opportunity to accomplish that [Page 52] desire; for Octaviane having heard him singe and joyne his voyce to the ravishing accords of his Lute and Nar­talls Virginalls, she was so enchanted with that delicate voyce issuing from a face all of flowers, a mouth of pearle and Corall, and a breath of amber, in an instant she lost the knowledge of her selfe, and giving way to this new flame, she became all ice to her old Servants.

Florent not ignorant of the passions that her Sex was subject to, suddainly perceived by Octaviane's lookes, sighes, and carriage, that the glances of his beautifull eyes had made no or­dinary impression in her heart; desi­rous to make this love an instrument of the hatred he bare her, for her in­vective language against Clione, he adds fewell to this new fire by fained demonstrations of a reciprocal affecti­on, and augments with high hopes of fruition the desires of this imprudent [Page 53] Damsell, like Faulconers and Fisher­men, that never present their baits to the unwary birds or fishes, but to take them and deprive them both of life and liberty. You may imagine whe­ther Octaviane bit greedily at that baite, Nature enclining us to believe easily what we desire. It is not my in­tent to describe the particulars of this affection, no lesse sincere and ardent on Octaviane's part, then cunningly dissembled by Florent. In meane time doe not you admire the severall parts which Love doth act in humane brests, and are you not amaz'd at these strange intricacies? Seeing at once two Enemies infinitely enamour'd of each other, and two Lovers mortall Enemies: And each of the three prin­cipall Actours in this scene, (Clione, Laurean and Octaviane) were in love with what they hated, and hated what they lov'd. Who would not say that all this were inchantment, were it not [Page 54] apparent that Florent's attractive beauty and disguise were the origine and cause of these charmes. Meane time while the Spirits of these three Lovers are thus incumbred and in­volv'd in this Labyrinth of confusions, arrives a new subject of disorder, which will produce many different effects of passion.

Montdor a young Gentleman of the County Venaissin, having listed him­selfe amongst the Suitours of our Pe­nelope (I meane Clione) in her absence makes his addresses to Fructule her Uncle and gardian, demanding his consent. He (knowing to what Fortu­nate dying had ingag'd his Neece, and the resolution she had taken to per­forme her Mother's injunction, which was to admit of no man to be her hus­band, but him that should bring her Laurean's head conceal'd not this con­dition from him, assuring him withall that he would deliver Clione into his [Page 55] hands, if he could but effect it. Love and the desire he had to advance him­selfe (two powerfull goades to an am­bitious youth) soone made Montdor accept the tearmes, although he knew the injustice of the cause, and the sad successe of divers that had preceded him. To this effect furnished with very good Armes, and an excellent Horse, he comes to a Village within three leagues of Laurean's house, whence he sends a Challenge inclosed in a packet, which he pretended was sent from Court. Laurean who was ac­quainted with such kinde of messages, read it without ever changing his Countenance, or giving the least suspi­cion of the Contents, resolving with himselfe to give the same satisfaction to this new Combatant as he had to the rest, onely he was to beware lest under pretence of a single Duell, there might be some treachery intended, and so he might basely be deprived of [Page 56] that life, which he had expos'd with such unparallel'd gallantry. However he could not carry his businesse so se­cretly, but his designe was discover'd by the preparation of his Horse and Armes: It was presently nois'd through the whole Castle, and came to Octaviane's, Florent's and Nartal's eares. What diversity of thoughts (thinke you) were Laurean's and his Ladies minds then possessed with? his onely care was to preserve his honour and his life, and make his Enemy, feeling the sharpnesse of his Sword, re­pent too late the temerity of his re­solution. Florent and Nartal Studied nothing so much, as by what meanes they might divert or compose this quarrell, Octaviane employed all her Rhetorick, but in vaine, to disswade her kinsman from answering the chal­lenge: For (besides that he was of himselfe too magnanimous to refuse that party by a Womans perswasions [Page 57] onely) hee stop't her mouth with her owne reasons, representing to her the desperate designe she was so inflexibly bent upon to fight her selfe with Cli­one, And the offer she made him of employing one of her Lovers to cha­stise the rashnesse of his Challenger, he rejected as a proposition highly injurious to his Valour and reputa­tion.

Here Florent took her at her word, to whom she had rendred many testi­monies of affection, not onely by her actions and demeanure, but also by her owne confession, (although ac­companied with a bashfullnesse that becomes modest and chaste Virgins.) Florent would [...]ot let slip this oppor­tunity, but made it serve as a specious pretence to cover the designe he had already fram'd, either to fight him­selfe with Montdor in Laurean's stead, or at least to be his second against him. But Laurean taking these offers [Page 58] as affronts, and as disadvantageous to his honour, imposing silence to his kinswoman, entreated Florent to ex­cuse him if he could not commit so base an action as to suffer him to goe in his place, since 'twas a thing con­trary to all the Lawes of Honour and of Armes; neither could he ac­cept of him for his Second, since Montdor's Ticket mentioned that he would fight single, being unwilling to engage any other in that Duell. At least then (replyed Florent) you shall permit me to goe before, and view the place he assignes you, neer the Village where he expects your Answer, that there may be as little Treachery on his part, as there is much generosity on yours. Laurean suspecting, and con­jecturing aright the wile of this Ca­valier, who desired that Commission for no other end, but to quarrell with Montdor, and prevent their Combate, would by no meanes be [Page 59] perswaded to consent to that employ­ment. But not to discontent him al­together, he suffered, with much en­treaties, Nartal to performe that Of­fice, guessing, by his deportment, that he was not a man fit to contest with Montdor, who had the repute of the most expert and compleat Horseman of that County. Florent was enforced to be satisfied with that, since no more could be obtained: Whereupon he dispatch'd a Letter by Nartal to Mont­dor; wherein he forbade him expressely under pain of his perpetuall dis-favour to fight with Laurean, for reasons which he should know at their first meeting: This he wrote with his owne hand, and subcribed Cli­one.

Nartal with this Letter, and other private instructions from Clione, takes his way towards Montdor, where being arrived, he delivers the Letter, the Contents whereof distracted Mont­dor's [Page 60] mind with a thousand confused imaginations: for knowing very well the hand, and bearing a respectfull awe to the absolute Command of that severe Mistresse, who had no lesse au­thority to make her Lovers fear her, than Beauty to attract their Loves. Love solicites hard for Obedience to that Command; representing often to him Clione's threats to deprive him of that which he sought for in that Duell with perill of his owne life, since he had no other occasion to be Laurean's enemy. But to revoke the Challenge he had sent, he thought that would make too great a breach in his reputation; and that exposing himself to the blame of Cowardise, would staine him with perpetuall in­famy: At last he concludes in favour of his Honour, and to the prejudice of his Love; choosing rather to be deprived of Clione, than of that glory which such magnanimous Spirits [Page 61] aspire by vertue of their Armes. So to be rid of Nartal's importunity (who pressed him extreamly to acquiesse at Clione's entreaty) he fained to believe that the Letter Nartal had delivered him (though he knew it to be of Clione's own penning) was counter­feited by some other, but would by no meanes tax Laurean with it, lest that might give occasion of defer­ring the Enterprize which he then was too deeply engag'd in to repeale with Honour. Hereupon Nartal pray'd him to observe well his Physiogno­my; seeming to wonder that a mans Habit, and a Hat cover'd with plumes, should make him so much mis-kenne that Melicerte whom he had so often seene attending on Clione; assuring him by many particulars, that 'twas none but she; and that her Mistresse had put her into that disguise, having no body else about her that she could entrust with a Message of such conse­quence.

[Page 62] Montdor at this was seiz'd with such astonishment, that for a good while his tongue could not performe it's office; at length recovering his speech, he ask'd her diverse questions concerning her Mistresse, wherein she satisfied him with as many quaint, and cunningly fram'd inventions, never confessing that Clione, under the name of Florent, was in Laurean's house. But neither her entreaties, conjura­tions, nor threats, could in the least divert Montdor from the resolution he had taken to maintaine the Challenge he had sent to Laurean, deeming him­self unworthy ever to wear a Sword, if he should be guilty of an act that re­sented of such notorious and eminent basenesse.

So that Nartal returning gave Lau­rean an exact account of the place ap­pointed for the Combate, and that he perceived Montdor to be free from any base treachery; But Florent was in [Page 63] the greatest perplexity imaginable to heare that his perswasions, nor Com­mands, could not availe any thing with Montdor, nor divert his obstinate resolution to fight with Laurean, so making necessity a vertue, he swal­lowed that bitter pill, leaving th'event to fortune, since there was no remedy nor meanes to hinder nor defer that Duell. Laurean us'd all entreaties possible to perswade Florent to stay with Octaviane, (but all in vaine) for he would needs beare him Company, and be at least a spectatour of the Combate, hoping at last to apply that remedy which he more fear'd then desired.

The two Combatants being come into the field, mounted upon goodly Steeds, and armed each with Sword and Pistoll, at the first encounter Montdor did no execution, Laurean dexterously slipping aide: But he not losing the opportunity shot Montdor [Page 64] through the right arme, and making his Pistoll fall immediately, he put him out of his fighting posture: Then presently drawing his Sword he gain'd the crupper of him, and had run him through the body, if Montdor's horse by a fortunate stumble had not cast his rider. Laurean however scorning to make use of this advantage, leap't from his horse, and comming to him (that was neither able to draw his Sword, nor rise, being much bruised with the fall) bid him aske his life, and deliver him his Sword. I cannot deli­ver the Sword which I cannot draw (re­ply'd Montdor) and which I never would deliver to any man if I were in a capacity to use it, much lesse will I begge my life of you, which I had rather lose a thousand times then make so foul a breach in my Honour. Fortune may make me miserable, but never base; I am now in your power, you may deale with me as you please, and make what use of your victo­ry [Page 65] you list. This high spirit which so imminent danger could notintimidate, and which look'd so undauntedly up­on so present and pressing a death, took infinitely with Laurean, who un­willing to soile the glory of his tri­umph with insolency, answered, You are much worthier of life, than if you had demanded it; and I will assure you, that for your Generosity and Courage, you shall ever hereafter find me your Ser­vant, not an Enemy; and I'le acknow­ledge that it was my good Fortune, not my Valour that hath given me this ad­vantage over a man whose courage I finde invincible. Hereupon Montdor replyed, Now I acknowledge my selfe conquered since your Courtesie doth preserve what your Sword might justly have taken away: But if God permit me to recover of these hurts, I will not die ungratefull for this favour. Hearing this, Laurean flung away his Sword; and having lifted him up, with the [Page 66] help of his Servants, he carried him back to the Village, lodged him in a friends house, and sent presently for a Surgeon to dresse his Wounds, offe­ring him his owne Castle at Com­mand assoone as he should feel him­self able to go thither.

Florent and Nartal that stayed a loof off to watch the successe of this Combate, with such anxieties and feares, as you may imagine, perplex a tender Lovers heart in like occurren­ces, seeing this incomparable Valour joyn'd with so rare a Courtesie, quite ravish'd with such Heroick Vertues, rode presently back to Laurean's Ca­stle, under pretence to carry Octaviane the newes of her Cosins Victory, who remained Master of the Field without any hurt. Mean time, whilest they joyfully celebrate this Tryumph; and that Octaviane (deceiv'd with Flo­rent's out-side) feedes her eyes with that pleasing object, and her eares with [Page 67] his accustomary Courtships: Laurean stayes with Montdor, shewing him as much respect, and friendly Offices as if hehad been the most intimate and dea­rest Friend in the world, which so transported Montdor, that he almost forgot his paine. The shot being in his Shoulder, was not so dangerous as troublesome, being likely to be long a Curing; but he was so bruised with the fall, that there was more fear of him for that, than for the Wound he had received.

One day Montdor lying in his Bed, and Laurean sitting by him, (whose Civility and Gallantry he could never satisfie himselfe with extolling) they fell upon the discourse of the subject of their quarrell. Montdor confessed that he was justly punish'd for his te­merity, having obstinately transgres­sed the expresse Commands of Clione in fighting with him. How? said Lau­rean, I thought she had enjoyned you to [Page 68] it. Not she (replyed Montdor) but her Uncle told me that I could never hope upon any other tearms to enjoy his Neece, who at present is gone to certaine waters neere the Pyrenean mountains, for the recovery of her health, which of late hath beene somewhat impaired: With that he shew'd Laurean the Letter she had sent him, and told him the particular message he had receiv'd from her, by a Gentlewoman disguis'd in mans ap­parrell. Laurean could not imagine what might be her meaning to forbid Montdor that whereto she had engag'd so many others formerly, unlesse that bearing him more affection then the rest, she would not expose him to so great danger.

After some daies time Laurean tooke leave of Montdor, promising to see him often, and to bring with him two Lan­guedochian youths that had beene some time at his house; and which, amongst other perfections, were rarely [Page 69] Skill'd in musick. Being come backe to his Castle, he made a full relation to his kinswoman, and his two guests, of all the passages betwixt him and Montdor, and what he had told him of Clione's Letter, and of the Gentle­woman Cavalier that brought it him. At these words Nartal and Florent were almost out of Countenance, imagining that they were discovered.

If Laurean had taken notice of the comming and going of the Colours in their faces, he might easily have guest at their inward disturbances, (but how should the mind imagine what the eyes doe not observe?) So these alterations passing without his reflecting on them, built a confidence in the two disguised Damsells, that they were not yet knowne to be what effectually they were. But when Lau­rean pray'd them to beare him com­pany the first time, he went to Visite Montdor againe (as he had promised [Page 70] they should) they then believed abso­lutely that this was only a wile to draw them in, and that without doubt their plot had been discovered. Therefore Florent could never be at quiet, till he had found a handsome excuse to be gone away, having no desire to appear before Montdor in that habit. So faining to have received newes from an Uncle of his that was desperately Sick, (whose estate after his decease he was to inherit) he acquaints Laurean with it, and desires his permission, who charm'd with his winning carriage and Conversation could not resolve to part with him.

What an Alarum did this news give to poor Octaviane's heart? who plac'd all her felicity in the presence and company oft her beloved Florent, whom she had engag'd her selfe to marry. How oft did she upbraid him with inconstancy and slight affection, but with reproaches of so amorous [Page 71] a Choller, that one fire augmented the other, and made a more full dis­covery of the excesse of passion. Flo­rent (rejoycing at her paine, and to continue her in this agreeable errour) made a thousand protestations of fide­lity and service, as if he had beene ca­pable of accepting the offer she had made him to marry him, he added many Vowes and desperate Oaths, to answer her love with a reciprocall and most inviolable affection, beseeching her not to be a hindrance to his for­tune, but give him respit onely for some few daies, that he might goe ga­ther the fruit of the Inheritance that fell to him by his Uncle's death. Octa­viane deceived with his faire language, and holding the mouth she so dearely loved as an oracle of infallible verity, consented at last to this separation, but with such dolorous resentments as cast her into a Swound, an evi­dent signe how neere it touched her [Page 72] to be deprived of so beloved a pre­sence.

Being come againe to her selfe, by the application of severall remedies, her dolefull and amorous complaints bred some pitty in Florents heart, not­withstanding the occasion he had to hate her. At last, seeing no remedy, she was enforc't to give way to his depar­ture, which would have much more neerly touched Laurean, had he known that Clione was hidden under Florent's cloathes. However, it troubled him very much to part with him, yet he was somewhat consolated with the hope he had that Florent would per­forme his promise, which was, shortly to returne and stay longer with him.

But then grew another contest about Nartal's going, for Laurean was very urgent to detaine him, imagining all pleasure and contentment would pre­sently fly from his heart if his eares were depriv'd both of his and Florents [Page 73] enchanting Harmony: Nartal is as earnest to accompany his cosin, (for so he stiled Florent) and Florent could not be perswaded to leave him as a pledge. Laurean promised to furnish Florent with as many attendants to convoy him safe home, as he would desire, and to wait upon him himselfe. Florent was incumbred with so many extraordinary Civilities, that he knew not which way to shape an answer. Indeed it is more difficult to come fairly off in a Combate of Comple­ments and Courtese (although there be no bloodshed) thē vulgar spirits can imagine. But in the end he found this expedient to satisfie all parties, promi­sing to send back Nartal as soone as he should arrive at Bezieres (which Florent fain'd to be his Native soile) to bring Octaviane and Laurean newes of his proceedings, and stay with them as an hostage till he return'd himselfe.

Thus parting they carry with them

[Page 74](but in a different manner) the hearts both of Laurean and his kinswoman. In what a cloude of discontent re­main'd the desolate Octaviane, being depriv'd of an object that was the light and delight of her eyes, I give you leave to imagine. Laurean to divert his melancholy, went againe to spend some time with Montdor, who began to recover of his hurts.

Meane while the time of Nartal's comming backe expires, and Octa­viane dying with impatience to heare from Florent, thinks every day an age till she sees him. This impatience puts her in despaire, and being not able to stay any longer in her kinsmans house, she tooke a sodaine resolution to retire to her owne, purposely to dis­pose her selfe for the execution of a folly, which cannot be excus'd, but in attributing it to the Violence of a passion which Reason could not mo­derate. So faining her selfe very sick, [Page 75] she repaires homewards, where being arriv'd and fittted with mans appar­rell, a horse and one footman, she takes her Journy to Bezieres in hopes to find Florent there, but 'twas in vaine, no body there could tell any newes of him, for the house where Clione had retird her selfe, was in another part of Languedoc not far from Nismes. What troubles was Octaviane's minde per­plext with, seeing her selfe deceived? how did not she exclaime against Flo­rent? whose trace she could no more finde out then that of Fantomes, which vanish as soone as they appeare: Yet this pleasing illusion which had so sweetly carryed away her senses, and distill'd a delicious Venime through the eyes into her heart, made her resent a thousand severall distractions. How shall she finde out him that she knowes not where to seeke, and who is no more the same he seem'd to be? for Clione having re-assum'd her own name and [Page 76] habit, left nothing of Florent but the bare Idea. Neverthelesse she being no lesse taken with Laurean's perfections, then Octaviane was with hers, fail'd not to send back Nartal in the same disguise with a Letter to Laurean, which contein'd nothing but Comple­ments, onely in the Close she entreat­ed him to give full credit to what the bearer thereof should tell him in her behalfe.

How did the blood rise in Nartals face when he was fain to take off the maske of their dissimulation, to make Laurean see the Visage of the truth? Heavens! how Laurean stood amaz'd at the recitall of this History, which seemes more like a fable or Romance then verity, yet I have it from an Au­thentick Author, that averreth it to be very true.

I will not stand to recount the par­ticulars of this discovery, having al­ready much gone beyond the limits [Page 77] of brevity which I had prescrib'd my selfe in this worke: I will onely tell you that the Scales fell from Laurean's eyes, when Nartal shewed him what remarkable tumours were in his brest, not ordinary to be found in men's: So comparing one thing with another, and calling to minde the many plea­sing deceipts which had deluded his senses in Florent's presence, he made no further question of what Nartal told him. I will omit the divers Ima­ginations that then possest his braine, without making reflection upon the wrongs Clione had done him, (whose person he never hated, but the preten­sions wherewith she disturb'd his re­pose) her beauty and good parts repre­sented themselves to his fancy in a more advantageous forme, then if she had beene present, and adding more­over this unexpected change; that had transform'd her from a Tyger to a Dove, and from a mortall Enemy, [Page 78] into a passionate Lover, he thought one heart too little to reciprocate so entire an affection. In a word he was more ready to answer Clione's flame, then fire is to catch at any bituminous matter.

Upon Nartal's word without any diffidence he goes alone with him, taking no attendant but one Lakey, and in short time he arrives at Clione's house. These two Souls felt them­selves at the same instant kindled with a flame so equall in it's extremity, that it had beene hard to judge which had the better in that amorous Warre. Ti's nothing to say they were perfectly reconcil'd to one another: I must say, they ty'd themselves so strictly with deepe Oathes and promises of marri­age, that nothing but Death could ever dissolve that band.

These words and this faith being given and received in presence of a Priest, they past to the Consumma­tion [Page 79] of that which Lovers so ardently desire, being both so fully satisfied, that their life was but a continued ra­vishment of delight. But prickles still accompany Loves roses, and fire cannot be without some smoak. Laure­an's being at Clione's house was soone nois'd all the Country over, and she, like the Queene of Carthage, cares not to hide their amorous stealths, since all was cover'd with the Cloake of Matrimony.

Fame that hath no lesse tongues then wings, soone carries this report to her Uncle Fructule, which Stunn'd him as if he had been blasted with lightning, or rather thunderstriken. It seemes to him a Paradox, esteeming that as im­possible a thing as to joyne fire and water. A second report which cōmon­ly is truer then the first, assured him that what he feared was but too cer­taine. Upon this he fall's into a rage, exclaimes, stormes and threatens [Page 80] both his Neece, and Laurean, with more thunder then th'Heavens hereto­fore darted against the Rebellious Gyants. All the other friends of both the Families blesse God for this hap­py alliance, which promising an assu­red peace betwixt them would stop the effusion of so much blood, and hinder any further quarrells. Onely Fructule animated with a desperate rage, and fury, resolves to put all in dis­order.

Whilst he thus fret's and fume's with madnesse, studying the accom­plishment of some premeditated re­venge against them, let us consider th'amazement poore Octaviane was in, being already return'd from her Knight Errantry, when she heard that her Co­sin was marry'd to his faire Adversa­ry, and that this sweet Enemy was the same Florent whose Idea was so deeply engraven in her heart. How strange the History of this transfigu­ration [Page 81] seeme's to her? for better sa­tisfaction she goes to give Laurean a Visite, (who was so overcome with the affection of his loving Enemy; that he could not absent himselfe one moment out of her sight) and if her owne eyes had not beene witnesses of all these passages (that had beene re­lated to her, besides the assurance Lau­rean gave her of them by Letters) she could nere have believed them.

Cur'd both of her love and hatred, immediately she embraceth, as her chiefe friend and kinswoman, her in whose brest not many daies before she would have stuck her poniard. Oh Love! it's thou that tamest the sa­vage beasts, and makest tractable the most fierce Lyons and Tygers, what force is able to withstand thy power­full sweetnesse! Meane while that Laurean, wholly taken up with the de­lights of his new spouse, seeme's to have forgotten both himselfe and his [Page 82] Family, Montdor recover's his perfect health, and hearing the good successe twixt Laurean and Clione, he rejoyc'd exceedingly that he was prevented in the designe, wherein he had inten­ded to employ all his power and inte­rest, for the reconciliation of those two Families devided by so many streames of blood. He was so farre from being troubled with jealousie, seeing in Laurean's Armes her who was cause of that Duell: that quite contrary he look't upon him as the preserver of his life, as the mirrour of Courtesie and valour, and as one for whom he would have resign'd a Scepter to have plac't him in a throne. He went to wait up­on this new married Couple, to con­gratulate their felicity, and assure them that there was nothing in the world to which his Soule so much aspir'd as to doe them Service.

There he found Octaviane, who disabus'd of her errour, was a blanke, [Page 83] free from all love and Passion: Mont­dor being throughly heal'd as well of the wounds which Laurean had made in his body, as also of those which Cli­one's beauty had made in his Soule, felt a private inclination to render himselfe to Octaviane's sweetly at­tractive graces: And she considering the comelinesse of this Gentleman, (who was one of the richest and stout­est Cavaliers of the County of Avig­non) had no lesse disposition to affect him.

This was the first foundation of their reciprocall liking, which conti­nuance of time increas'd through Montdor's faithfull service and profes­sions of reall affection, untill at last it was consummated by that honora­ble Bond which makes of two bodies one flesh. Now he bearing a great hand with Fructule, at whose instance he had engag'd himselfe in that unad­vised Duell against Laurean, tooke [Page 84] upon him to appease his anger, and procure his approvement of Clione's Marryage, which he seem'd to be so discontented and enraged at. In this confidence he went to him, but having reck'ned without his host, no won­der if he found his expectation fru­strated. Fructule gives him very ill lan­guage, and had like to have fallen foul on him. This was an ill beginning, yet he desisted not, but suffering all the injurious treatments th'others furie transported him to, he endeavoured to winne him with the fairest and most plausible language he could invent; Yet this wrought nothing upon him, the Ulcers of his minde being like those of the body, which Hony doth more inflame, contrary to the holy text which saith, good words Molifie anger. Thence Montdor went to visite Clione's other kindred, and by perswa­sions prevailed so farre with them that they all seem'd very joyfull of that [Page 85] alliance, as an extraordinary effect of the Divine Providence which onely was able to procure that recconcilia­tion. But all their consents were of no great importance, the chiefe was wan­ting, that was, Fructule's, (he being Guardian & administratour of Clione his niece and ward's whole estate,) and to obtaine that seemed impos­sible.

He talk't of nothing but challenging Laurean himselfe, which Laurean might wave with two very lawfull ex­cuses, for one he might alledge his late Marryage which made Fructule his Unkle, th'other that having once be­fore worsted him in the Field, he was not oblig'd the second time to fight against him. Fructule fearing the latter objection, which would not have re­dounded to his honour, bethought him of some other meanes how to make Laurean away. To this effect he corrupts with money a Cooke, that [Page 86] formerly had serv'd him, Comman­ding to try how he might get into Laurean's service and poyson him. This base fellow pretending that Fructule had misus'd him, came to proffer his Service to Laurean, who en­tertained him at Clione's entreaty, she having known him at her Unkle's house, assur'd him of his fidelity, in which she was much mistaken. Thus she contributed to her owne mischiefe, in receiving within her husbands Ca­stle (whither he had carried her) this threacherous Trojan horse. Had not Montdor given him warning to take heed of that Cooke, questionlesse the Villaine had executed his base designe. Upon this advertisement Laurean ap­prehended him, and partly by entrea­ties, partly by promises, and partly by threatnings, he made him confesse the truth, and shew him the poyson he was to mingle in his meat. Observe the extreame Courtesie of this Gen­tleman, [Page 87] who sent him back to Fructu­le, not suffering the least harme to be done him, to the end that he might inflict such punishment upon him as he should thinke fit himselfe for so unworthy a fact, desiring him not to use any waies to deprive him of his life, so ignoble and so misbe­comming a Gentleman of his birth and honour. Fructule sorry that his powder had not taken fire, nor his treachery succeeded to his minde, and asham'd to owne so dishonourable a designe, disclaim'd his Cooke, swear­ing that he was ignorant of that disloy­alty, and that it was a good while since he had turn'd him away. But not imagining how Laurean should be acquainted with this plot, out of Suspicion he manumitted divers of his domesticks, who blazed all abroad the truth of the businesse to his great infamy, yet this malicious Soule was not so Satisfied, seeing every body [Page 88] cry'd shame on him for his treachery and hard-hartednesse, and that he un­justly withheld his Ward from her estate, because she was marryed with­out his consent to his and her Enemy: He chang'd his note, and faining to be better pleas'd, and to desire a faire reconciliation (just as the cunning Fowlers use their calls to entrap the innocent birds) Clione and Laurean who desired nothing more then to ac­complish their felicity, greedily hear­kned to the propositions that were made by some persons whom Fructule had deceived, and who used as much sincerity and Candour in the media­tion as he had basenesse and dissimula­tion in his proposalls.

He pretends that his greatest desire was to see his Neece, that he could not foregoe his owne blood, that he par­don'd her with all his heart, and that he believed if he could but ser her at his House, and learne of her selfe what [Page 89] moved her to marry Laurean, perhaps he should be satisfied with her reasons, restore her to her Estate, and make a handsome agreement with her Hus­band. She (like an innocent Dove, or an inconsiderate Partridge) en­trap's her selfe by casting her silly harmelesse eye upon the specious luster of this Fowlers glasse; having begg'd leave of her Husband to goe treate their peace with her Unkle. Although Laurean presag'd that Jour­ney would produce no good event, yet he lets his Wife goe against his will, consenting to that separation induced by his Friends perswasions, who were very earnest with him, not to shew himselfe irreconcileable, but yeild as much as in honour he could to Fructule's humour, who by his marriage to Clione was then his Unkle. Clione of her good Nature mistrust­ing nothing fell into the Snares her Unkle had prepared for her. At first [Page 90] he treated her with more Civility then she expected, but this was onely as a faire leafe to hide the Serpent in his treacherous designe, and a Figg where­with (like the Egyptian Queene) he co­vered his prernicious aspe. How de­ceitfull is the Spirit of man! It's a La­byrinth that's full of false cunning passages and subtile evasions. A tem­pest is most to be fear'd when the Sea is calmest: All the feasting and ex­pressions of joy which Fructule made his Neece, were but so many treache­rous baits to inveagle her; Apes kind­nesses, who kill their young ones with hugging them. Being entred in dis­course with her, by little and little he cunningly fell from contestation to reprehension, from reprehension to threats, thence to rayling and such offensive tearmes, as drew very tart replies from Clione's mouth, then irri­tated with Choller and incited with a too great sense of Honour; which [Page 91] gave Fructule occasion to colour his premeditated revenge under the no­tion of correction. Hereupon he makes her be lock't up in a Chamber, and kept as a Prisoner with all the base usage that may be imagin'd, pur­posely to drive her into despaire. And according to the proverbe, one mis­fortune never comes alone: The newes of Clione's captivity was soone brought to Laurean, who then lay sick in bed of a Feaver, that Melancholly for his deare Spouses absence had been the occasion of. Heavens! how it stroke his heart, he is mad to rise up, being ready to burst with Choller and fury, he will precipitate himselfe into a thousand deaths, rather then suffer such indignities to be done, to a person that was so neere and deare unto him, as one whom he affected with a more love then what he bare unto himselfe. But this excesse of rage redoubles his paroxisme, and makes his Feaver con­tinuall, [Page 92] from that his Violent burning grew to finde no intermission, so that he fell into such extravagant ravings, as bred astonishment and pitty in all that were about him. Clione is alwaies in his mouth, & her Image perpetually before his eyes, sometimes he fancies her all bloudy and deformed with blowes, sometimes crying out to him for succour, sometimes pursued by her Unkle, he struggles and keepes a Coile, he ask's for his Sword, he leaps out of his bed, & makes assaies beyond any ordinary mans ability, ten men can hardly hold him, they are faine to bind him with cords, amongst all these Violences he neither would nor could take any remedy the Phisicians did prescribe him, so that there were hard­ly any hopes either of life or his reco­very. This being reported to Fructule, he believ'd that the Heavens in that af­fliction seemed to assist him, executing his revenge upon Laurean, whom he [Page 93] Styled the seducer and ravisher of his Neece; and to augment her sorrowes he presently carries her the newes of her Husbands indisposition, but with such joyfulnesse, that it even broake her heart. For that confirm'd her opi­nion that Laurean then was poysoned or bewitched, for (besides what her Uncle told her) she heard such strange reports of the excesse and Violence of her Husbands sicknesse, that there was nothing of ill but she imagin'd was befallen him: And for accomplish­ment of her miseries she felt her selfe with Child, a condition so choise and tender, that the least affliction either corporall or spirituall, often casts into the grave those that seeme the best disposed, and of the strongest constitutions.

Fructule who hated both the tree and the Fruit, and wish'd no lesse de­struction to the Mother and her Child, then he did to the Father, used her [Page 94] worse and worse, and strove by seve­rall subtilties how he might make Cli­one away, and destroy her Child, by a precipitated and untimely birth. But God (who preserve's the innocent, to whom all hatred and malicious practises are unpleasing) confounded the wicked designes of this incompas­sionate Guardian, who (more like a ra­venous wolfe then a faithfull Shep­heard) us'd all meanes possible to pro­cure the destruction of the sheep, which the Lawes both divine and Humane oblig'd him to preserve and cherish. Indeed those that are under the pro­tection of the Almighty, cannot be taken out of his hand, they are (saith the Prophet) deliver'd out of the snares of the hunters, and sheltred from all outrages and injuries, for the Lord doth hide them under the shadow of his wings, and is as a Buckler to them.

It had beene absolutely impossible [Page 95] but that Clione beaten with so many cruell stormes, had fallen into some desperate sicknesse, which would have made a double murther in her, if God had not suscitated Montdor to rescue and deliver her. He was once in the minde to challenge Fructule, and by his death give both life and Liberty to that unfortunate Prisoner, but upon maturer consideration, he thought it more convenient to take a Foxes then a Lyons skin, and try what might be done by wit and industry rather then attempt any violent Course. The fa­ble of Danae teacheth us this Verity, that Gold will make it's passage through the strongest holds. He spar'd for nothing that might corrupt Clio­ne's guards, procuring at length her en­largement, by the meanes of those that were encharg'd to keep her. Having free'd her from this Slaverie he carries her back to Laurean, who at the very first sight of her began to feele him­selfe [Page 96] better, he left his raving fits and the ardour of his Feaver grew more moderate, shewing that the Cause of his disease being ceas'd, the effects could no longer have their being. Within a short time he recovered his health, and the lightsomenesse of his heart soone replanted fresh roses in his cheeks. As soone as he felt his strength perfectly come to him againe, he re­solved to employ it for the destructi­on of him who had so barbarously treated his Clione. But she never ceas'd weeping and entreating, untill to sa­tisfie her he altred his resolution, to which he more willingly condescen­ded out of fear, that (she being very big with Child) that apprehension might cast her into despaire and cause her to miscarry. Neverthelesse though he was perswaded to omit the use of his Sword, he resolv'd to make good his Interest by force o'th' Pen, entring a suite in Law against Fructule to make [Page 97] him render accompt of his Ward­ship, and to restore to his Wife the estate he unjustly kep't from her. During this processe which was pro­tracted by those that make it their trade and lively-hood, to foment such contestations, Clione is brought to bed of a Daughter, and Montdor had so ingratiated himselfe with Octaviane, that he was become her Husband, and kinsman to Laurean. Thus were those two houses now united in the bonds of consanguinity, who before thirsted after nothing but the blood and destruction of each other.

It is a generall Maxime that Ele­ments so contrary as fire, and wa­ter, can never be converted one into th'other, but to that Soveraigne power which governes and gives essence to all things, nothing can seeme difficult. Thus at the destruction of Hierusalem that Sacred fire of the Temple which was hidden in a well, by the industry [Page 98] of some Religious Priests, fearing lest it should be prophan'd by the Idola­trous Conquerours, was found at their returne from the Captivity of Babylon chang'd into thick Water, which ex­pos'd to the hot Sunne beames resum'd it's former colour and property of fire. I must confesse according to th'ordinary course of this corrupt age, it is hard to see such effects of Love, proceed from such mortall hatred, but nothing is impossible to God's omni­potent Providence who daily worketh miracles.

This consideration made the Wise man say, that men must hate as if one day they were to Love, implying that their hatred should not be irreconci­leable. And another saith, that Enmi­ties ought to be mortall, that is, that they should take end and dye. And doubtlesse this is the meaning of the Evangelist, who teacheth us, that the Sun should not goe downe upon our wrath.

[Page 99]By this Montdor through his in­cessant endeavours had wrought all Clione's other kindred to be friends with Laurean, & the Sense of the Court began to let Fructule see with shame the unjustnesse of his cause: But to pre­vent Conviction, he meditated another designe so damnable, as could not enter into the thought of any man but one given over to all wickednesse; which to effect he gives out that he would willingly restore Clione her Estate, and approve of her Marriage, provided that her Husband and shee, would give him an acquittance of his Gardianship upon such accompts as he should produce. Laurean's Friends and Clione her selfe (who desired no better then to be at peace upon what tearmes soever) advised him to take what he could get from so ill a Pay­master, and to quit th'Administration for the time past, so that he would give them quiet possession of his [Page 100] Neece's estate. Friends on both sides at last concluded the matter, and the Articles were sign'd according to Fructule's owne desire.

That done they met, the Unkle em­braced lovingly his Neece, and Lau­rean as his Nephew, pressing them ex­treamely to goe to his House, where he would feast them and the whole company, drowning in good cheere and wine all their former differen­ces, and publish to the world an act of eternall oblivion. Laurean, who was of a generous free disposition, promised to be there with his Wife, and some other Friends, whereof Montdor was now become one of the most intimate: Who knowing Fructu­le's treacherous humour, endeavour'd to cast some diffidence in Laurean's Spirit, but could by no meanes make him susceptible of it. So he resolv'd by vertue of the powder of Gold, to sound some of Fructule's domestick [Page 101] Servants, who discovered his damna­ble enterprise; Which was to set fire to certaine barrells of Powder, that he had plac'd directly under the Hall, where he intended to make this detest­able banquet, having first made his owne friends goe out and secure them­selves, by retiring into another part of the Castle. A desperate resolution, and such as could not proceed but from the suggestion of him that is a Homicide from the beginning.

Montdor presently acquainted Lau­rean with this plot, who would hard­ly be perswaded to believe it. But Clione that had more experience of her Unkle's basenesse and malicious hu­mour, gave credit to it, and besought her Husband to send him some hand­some excuse, that he could not per­forme his promise at that time, with­out taking notice however that he knew any thing of that bloudy de­signe. But Laurean's high Courage [Page 102] suggested him another resolution, the boldness and gallantry whereof prov'd of most availe to their entire reconci­liation, by a meanes which in all pro­bability was absolutely contrary. But as it hapneth that the excesse of drink­ing (so much forbidden those that are in Feavers) sometimes cureth them, so Laureans free-hartednesse and Cou­rage by an action full of heroick no­blenesse in one instant drew away all the malignity from Fructule's heart, imitating (in that) the lightning which falling upon a Serpent, takes away all his Venime without killing him.

He assembles his kinsmen and most trusty Friends (who being all well arm'd) he desires them to accompany him to Fructule's house, first infor­ming them of the treachery Montdor had discovered. They all agreed, re­solving to goe so strong that they would master that Traytour, and make him suffer the same punishment [Page 103] that he had prepar'd for them. But Laurean pray'd them to moderat their Choller, for he desir'd the conversion, not the death of his wicked Unkle: Thinking himselfe sufficiently reveng'd if he could cast the burning coales of shame and confusion in his face, by manifesting before his Friends the se­cret of his darke designe.

Being arrived there, Fructule enter­tained them with all kinde of demon­strations of a most sincere friendship, so expert was this man in dissembling his unworthinesse. As they were all come within the Hall that was prepa­red for the tragedy, he fell into a long discourse of the quarrells betwixt their two Families, reckoning up their Du­ells and Combats, and how much blood had beene shed upon that occa­sion, protesting withall how joyfull he was after so many bloody conflicts and murthers, that all those debates were so neere an end, hoping that [Page 104] thence forwards they should live peaceably together, having smothered all their former enmities in good cheere and wine; That he was more rejoyc'd to see them there then the best Friends he ever had in his life, and that he was most ready to resigne them the place, and give them free possession both of that house and all the estate that belong'd unto them.

Thus he exprest himselfe, not think­ing that his Powder plot was disco­ver'd. But t'is in vaine, saith the holy writ, to lay nets for birds that Soare a loft. Laurean knowing that all this smooth language tended to nothing else, but onely to prepare them for the Sacrifice, which he had destin'd to his fury. That Fructule might not have the leisure to put in execution his de­signe, nor to mingle in their meates any other powders no lesse dangerous then that he had hiden under the Hall, without any further delay, said, Per­chance [Page 105] some others lesse circumspect then he or his Friends might have beene entrap't by his Syrenicall com­plements, but the train having been dis­covered, if they perish'd he should pe­rish with them himself, and the Friends he had invited thither also, (which were but very few that would be com­plices of so damnable a project:) then in the presence of all his Friends he laid in Fructule's dish all his former base­nesses, and the present treachery he intended to execute, as things most un­worthy of a man sprung of so noble & illustrious a Family as his, having so many waies besides to satisfie his re­vengefull mind many degrees more honorable: Shewing him to what dan­ger he had expos'd himselfe, through his unlawfull desire of Vengeance, seeing that he then had the strongest Pa [...] in the House, and could, if he plea [...], inflict upon him the punish­ment his perfidiousnesse deserved: Yet [Page 106] he entreated his friends (that came thither with him) to pardon that of­fence, protesting for his owne particu­ler, that both that and all the former attempts he had so unworthily made upon his life, should absolutely be bu­ryed in oblivion; to the end that this extraordinary goodnesse joyn'd to the shame which Fructule ought to have resented for so ignoble an action might somewhat induce him to repentance, and to acknowledge the preservation of his life as an act of grace and favour from them, who had then the power to deprive him of it, and yet spar'd him.

However Fructule's obdurate heart relented nothing at this incomparable Courtesie, the moment of his visita­tion being not yet come. But rather emboldned by the danger he saw him­selfe then in, never offred to d [...]ny [...]or excuse the designe they ta [...] him with, quite contrary with a multitude [Page 107] of words as confusedly pronounced as his Countenance was unsetled, he set himselfe to justifie the fact, alleadging that he had reason to seek revenge for so much bloud, as Laurean and his friends had drawn out of the Veines of those of his family, and that he could never enjoy any content or quietnesse of minde, untill he had sacrific'd unto his Ancestours Ghosts the Authour's of their Death's; yeilding himselfe willingly into their hands to inflict up­on him the same torments, which he would have made them suffer, had they beene in his power, as he then acknowledg'd himselfe to be in theirs.

This answer no lesse desperate then presumptuous astonish'd the whole Company, who seeing the obstinacy of his inflexible heart, began to consult amongst themselves what to doe to him, [...] how to make him feele a pu­nishment suiteable to such horrid trea­chery. But Clione who fear'd to be a [Page 108] spouse of bloud, and Laurean who de­sir'd his marriage should have an end rather comicall then tragicall, (to stop the course of their fury in the first breaking out, and to hinder the blou­dy effects such injurious language might produce) she sodainly cast her selfe in mid'st of her's & her Husbands friends, and embracing her Unkle's knees with an exemplary humblenesse, the teares trickling from her eyes, be­sought and conjur'd him by all that she could imagine might any way con­duce to move so obstinate a Courage, that he would please to pardon her disobedience, and mitigate the malice and envy he bare her Husband. This she pronounce'd so feelingly with so winning a comeliness & such dolorous accents as would have mov'd the sa­vagests of beasts, so that (not to de­taine you with any further [...]tion) she bred Compassion where cruelty had formerly her dominion, and [Page 109] Love, where hatred had so long rul'd as Empresse.

Fructule (like a lump of lead which for a while resist's the Violence of the fire, but at length melts all at once) became so chang'd on a sodaine, that it was enough to have made those who knew him best suppose him Metamor­phosed. Clione's teares having made their approach so neer as to undermine and blow up that unmalleable rock which lay invelop'd in his bosome, and no lesse seated on his heart, that this stone distill'd its water through the Limbick of his eyes; But being not yet a perfect Convertite, some relu­ctancy of his conversion reverberated the streame back againe to his heart, till the heart surcharg'd with good­nesse and humility together, sent the purest Spirits of a relenting expression unto his tongue, that like an over-flow­ing Violl, it gave such evident testi­monies of a sodaine Change and reall [Page 110] ressentment, as therewith he fell upon his Neeces neck, still lying at his feet, and mingling his sighs and tears with her's, confess'd that her goodnesse had overcome him, and quite eradicated all his hatred and obstinacy; and since that by her meanes his life had beene preserv'd, he would upon any occa­sion employ it and all he had to doe her service, conjuring her to forget what formerly had pass'd, and recon­cile him to her Husband whom he was not willing to embrace as his most deare Nephew, to whom thence for­wards he would be ready to render with most sincere affection all the de­voirs of a good Uncle and faithfull friend, and endeavour to give him as many testimonies of hearty good will, as he had formerly desir'd and at­tempted to doe him mischiefe.

What satisfaction was it to all the friends of both parties to see this cor­diall reconcileation so farre beyond all [Page 111] their hopes or expectation! But as we see the most delicate and best com­posed bodies, are susceptible of the greatest corruptions, the firmest friend­ships converted oft-times into the deadliest hatreds, and the keenest Vi­neger made of the strongest wines: So sometimes it hapneth that an inviola­ble friendship is fram'd amongst such as have beene most inveterate Ene­mies. This is confirm'd by the re­markable example of Fructule, who chang'd in an instant (like Polemon in the Metamorphosis) of a violent Ene­mie became so great a friend to Lau­rean that he could not live without him, loving him not as his Nephew, but as his owne Sonne. This good affection continued to the end of his life; which expir'd, he invested his Neece in the succession of his Estate, induc'd thereto by his owne incli­nation, as well as by the obligation of Nature. Thus Clione's and Fructu­le's [Page 112] violent and implacable hatred ended in Love and amitie; Laurean's incomparable Courtesie and Valour, crowning his Memory with a never­dying fame.