THE HISTORY OF OVID.

I Should in vain study to render my self guilty of a black ingratitude, in going about to dis­own those generous favors, the glorious Daughter of Augustus has grac'd me with; which my ba­nishment has caus'd the World to believe were so great, that I cannot think it will be interpreted a vanity, or indiscretion in me to represent them be­fore it in their due character: wherefore I shall avow a truth, and confess, that that excellent Prin­cess did treat me with a freedom and confidence, the memory whereof still is, and ever shall be, as pretious to me, as my unfortunate life.

She gave me the liberty to consecrate to her Idea all those passionate Poems, which I publish'd under the name of Corinna. She was oftentimes pleas'd to answer the little Harangues of Love, the lan­guishing Rhetorick of my eyes, made to her, with re­gards as full of sweetness, as mine were of passi­on; which gave encouragement to my presumpti­on to make those attempts, which might with some reason be interpreted as criminal, in a sim­ple Chevalier, since they had for their object the [Page 12] Daughter of his Emperor; but would have been judg'd innocent, had Julia been the Daughter on­ly of a Roman Knight.

Varnish that piece over, quoth Hortensius, I be­seech you, with as light a hand as you can; I see the inclination you have to make a fair Apology for a fair friend; I am acquainted already with every cir­cumstance of the Intrigue betwixt you and Julia, and I desire only an account of what relates to Terentia.

You are in an error, reply'd Ovid, and to dispos­sess you of it, I must beg your patience to a Discourse, which may perhaps detain it longer than you desire The beginning of a Love-intrigue with the first Princess of the World you must ap­prehend, was sufficient to charm the spirit of an ambitious man with raptures, scarce comprehensi­ble by imagination it self. I consider'd the pre­ference she honor'd me with in her esteem, before all others of my Rank in the Court, with a most ravishing satisfaction; and acting the part of a great Prince in the private Converses she was pleas'd to admit me to, I could fancy my self nothing less than one of the happiest in the Universe. I forgot the quality both of Julia, and my self; but as the Princess (let malice and detraction spend their mouths as loud as they will, to blemish her virtue) did always reserve to her self, as a Royal Prerogative of her Greatness, the power of re­pressing my audacity; all the little satisfactions she permitted me, serv'd but to tantalize my vani­ty, and only entertain'd my Love with some slight Banquet of Sweatmeats, which thirsted after a more solid repast. Julia is one of the most charm­ing Beauties of the Universe; and my desires, which had kindled a new Aetna within my breast, [Page 13] wanting the blessings of a gentle showre from her more substantial favors, to qualifie its flames, con­verted all those flattering pleasures into an insup­portable torment. Sulpicia, Wife to Tisienus Gal­lus, who is here in Thalassia, that then was Servant to the Princess, and to whom she unlockt the Ca­binet of all her secrets, was a witness to the de­plorable estate, those her half Bounties had reduc'd me to. Tisienus about that time was suspected to have been a Complice in the Conspiracy of Marcus Lepidus, and banish'd into this Island. His ab­sence gave Sulpicia the freedom to exercise those liberties his morose humor retrench'd her from, when he was with her. This generous person was toucht with a compassion of my Sufferings, and was sparing neither of her advice, nor inte­rest for the advancing of my felicity. This your manner of proceeding with Ovid, said she to the Princess, is as much opposite to the rules of Love, as Virtue; you suffer a person to expire at your feet, whom you love; because a little punctilio; perhaps, either of State, or Modesty, will not per­mit you to allow him the benefit of your Mercy; when you shall do them both but an equal injury, either by enslaving them to these terms of rigor and severity, or indulging them those liberties from which restrain them. Eeither assume the Character of the Daughter of Caesar, or with courage renounce the arbitrary Yoke it would impose upon your freedom. A Virtue that can admit of the least allay of any other ignobler passion, is but the slave of irresolution and timidity; you ought either to banish him your presence for ever, or render it less mortal to him. The Spirit of Julia could digest neither of those Propositions. My conver­sation [Page 14] was a diversion to her; the languishing countenance of my love rais'd a tender compassi­on in her breast; but her favors never extended themselves beyond the bounds of that compassion; and though she had an invincible repugnance to deprive her self of my sight, she had likewise no less to grant me the Suit, which Sulpicia was my Advocate in. She did testifie the regret she had, for not being capable of doing me a more accept­able service in my affairs in terms so obliging, that I thought I was not able to retaliate her kind­ness no other way, than by making an offer to her of what remain'd of my self in my own disposal. If the lovely Sulpicia, said I to her, could be ca­pable of that condescension, as to content her self with the second rank in a heart, where the Daugh­ter of Caesar sits in Throne in the first; and that the illustrious Julia would not consider, as a trea­son committed again her self, that submission, which low prostrate at your feet, I would em­ploy to plead the cause of my misfortunes; the de­plorable state wherein you now behold me, and which has already excited compassion in your no­ble breast, would soon be sensible of a glorious al­teration. Sulpicia burst forth into a loud fit of laughter at this proposition, and regarding me with no less surprise than disdain: Have you an art then, said she, to divide your self so exactly, that neither the Princess, nor Sulpicia shall have cause to impeach you of partiality in the division? It is a secret I must confess, said I, I never yet put in practice; but a small condescension in the Soul of the Princess, and the like compassion in yours, would encourage me to make the experi­ment: For example, went I on, suppose your [Page 15] self wholly ignorant of the Amours betwixt the Princess and my self; and that retiring all inflames and transports from the Elysium of her private Caresses, I should throw at your feet a heart in­spir'd with raptures and desires as violent, as love with all its Magick were able to raise in it, would you judge the victim unworthy of your accep­tance? No, reply'd Sulpicia, if the cause of these transports and desires were unknown to me, and I could flatter my self with the thought, that my Beauty had kindled the flames, I saw so visible an effect of. Oh! ye gods, cry'd I, presently, in­terrupting her, must I then be culpable and un­fortunate, because the Princess has made you her Confident? You deny not, but that my love, in the same capacity I represent it you, both should, and ought, to be favourably embrac'd by a person; who could believe her self to be the only object of it: And what reason can there be then, that I should receive so severe correction for an indiscretion I never committed? Are my transports less trans­ports for being the effects of the Princess, irresist­able Charms? Or should I bring them with me into Sulpicia's Chamber heightned with all those raptures she knows them capable of, would my Passion be a less amorous Passion for having de­riv'd its birth from the divine eyes of the incom­parable Julia?

My way of reasoning was thought so pleasant by Sulpicia, that she suddenly left me, to run and make the Princess a Partaker in the gallantry of it: I endeavour'd to dissuade her, but could not. I judg'd it convenient to make choice of a fit sea­son to treat of so delicate and tender a subject; when I was most agreeably surpriz'd to understand [Page 16] from the mouth of Sulpicia, that the singularity it self of my proposition had commended it to the Princesses favor, who express'd a great satisfacti- for the advancing an Intrigue so admirable, and new.

About that time I had made a Poem, Entitu­led, THE GODDESS OF HEARTS; where feigning that Cupid seeing that his Mother Venus had a greater charge upon her hands than she could well manage, in charming Mortals, had thought it expedient for her to assume to her a Co-partner in her Empire of Love, and by the name of The Goddess of Hearts, had created the Princess Julia, here Co-sovereign in swaying the AMOROƲS Scepter of the Universe.

The Princess, through an indiscretion, which I never took the presumption to charge her with, show'd this fancy of mine to Terentia. The name of Julia was disguis'd under that of Corinna; but the Character of Corinna did so perfectly il­lustrate the Daughter of Augustus, that Terentia had no difficulty to discover it. She drew me one evening apart in the Empresses Apartment, and showing me the Verses the Princess had deliver'd to her. Sould not one, said she, oblige you effe­ctually, to present you with the Key of this My­sterious Work, and unlock the secret of it to the Emperor. This discourse put me into some dis­order, but re-composing my self in the best man­ner I could: I cannot think, Madam, reply'd I, the Emperor will concern his high Thoughts with the humble Corinna of Ovid; and if he were pleas'd to stoop them so low to Earth, the Title of THE GODDESS OF HEARTS, so gloriously suits the Charms of the divine Terentia, that he might [Page 17] perhaps interpret her to be of the object of this fancy, and cast a killing eye upon Ovid, for pre­suming to bring the illustrious Wife of Mecaenas upon the Theatre of an Amour. You have more ingenuity than sincerity, reply'd Terentia, and the artificial varnish you give your answer, ought to oblige me to repay treachery with treachery; but I have an esteem for you, and desire you to insert me in the first Rank of your friends. You may go on, and propose to your Muse the Idea of Julia, for her Goddess; but your love in her Mouth speaks intelligibly; and her language is ea­sie to be understood by persons less discreet than my self, and who perhaps will not have so great a regard to the interests of Ovid, as Terentia has.

This generous proceeding of a person, whom the credit of a grand Favourite, and the affecti­ons of the Emperor, had elevated to the highest sphear of authority and lustre in the Empire, did touch me with the sense of a deep acknowledge­ment, which I exprest in the most eloquent terms, my gratitude could prompt to me; and from that day I consecrated to her generosity all the Rap­tures of my Muse, which either my Passion for the Daughter of Augustus, or my esteem for Sul­picia would permit me to borrow from her more Amorous hours. About that time Crassus began to pay his Adorations to the Shrine of this resplendent Star. And this Amour scarce deceiv'd the know­ledge of any person in Rome, but the Emperors, and her brave Husbands. He had observed how this great Lady had call'd me aside; and it was easie to discover by the motion of her eyes, and her gesture, that she was saying some obliging thing unto me: He drew near, and lent his curious at­tention; [Page 18] but we spoke so low, that he could frame no connexion in any thing he heard us dis­course of: He catch'd only at some scattered and broken words, as the Title of GODDESS OF HEARTS, and what I had reply'd to the first speech of Terentia; which being but an innocent piece of Gallantry, without design, I was not cau­tious to render guilty by a whisper: And seeing, in fine, that I pay'd my thanks to her in the most humble posture, and the gratefull'st terms I was able to express, he presently apprehended, that I had entertain'd her with some private Love-adventure, which she gave a favorable ear to; and this fancy begot in him a furious jealousie: and some few days after presented him with an occa­sion to confirm it: I was walking in the beauti­ful Gardens of Lucullus, when a little after me came Terentia thither likewise, to make them more beautiful, led by the Great Agrippa, and follow'd by Crassus; who seem'd to be a shadow insepara­bly annex'd to each motion of her person. He usher'd the young Heluidia, Niece to Mecoenas, by the hand; and endeavour'd to cast a blind before the eyes of the publick, by persuading them, that it was either this Lady, or the young Aurelia, who were usually her Attendants, that with their Charms did daily attract him into the company of the fair Terentia; but more piercing sights did penetrate into the Mistery. Terentia by accident saw me cross the end of an Alley, where she was walking: She sent some of her Servants after me to call me: and as I approach'd her, Ovid, said she, inclining her self a little towards my Ear, offers a Sacrifice too remarkable to his Goddess, the Grand-Courtiers of Heaven begin to murmur at it, and [Page 19] Jupiter himself is offended. Can Sacrifice offend the Gods Madam? said I, walking by her side; and are not those Holocausts, which preserve on Earth our respect and veneration to the Goddesses, sacred and pure enough to be offer'd publickly to them? I know not what you treat of, said A­grippa, smiling, but were I a Goddess, the extra­ordinary offers of men, would cause me to sus­pect some private interest, or design, in the in­tention of the ambitious offerer: And I do not find, that it is natural to Mortals of Ovids merit, to make always pure devotion the object of their Sa­crifices. I am of your opinion, reply'd Terentia, a person of Ovids Principals will soon become as formidable to the Gods of the Earth, as the Gyants were once to those of Heaven: wherefore if I were of his Council, I would advise him to be so cautious in paying his worship to a certain Deity, that none of the Imperial Court above, should be sensible of it, but herself.

You will apprehend, by what you have heard before, that this discourse of Terentia, was only a prosecution of that she had began to me in the Empresses Apartment; and that by my Goddess, and the displeasure of Jupiter, she would private­ly suggest to me my love to Julia, and advertise me, that the Emperor was offended with my fre­quent visits, and familiarity with that Princess: But Crassus, who lent a diligent attention to our discourse, gave it another interpretation. I re­turn'd such answers as I thought most opposite to retort the flatteries they levelled at me. Our Pro­menade, extended it self to a more than ordinary length; which I supported with such expressions of gallantry and pleasant retorts, as merited to be [Page 20] honor'd with many a glorious Compliment and Encomium by the fair Terentia, which, I must confess did bear the character of so much good will and kindness towards me, as would have startl'd the courage of any bashful Lover. The Emperor came in quest of his illustrious Mistress into the Walks; as soon as I saw him I retir'd: The whole Court was not ignorant that he desir'd always to entertain Terentia in private, and Crassus was obli­ged more than any other person, not to put him­self in the circumstance, of being a witness to their Converse; he withdrew as well as I; and follow­ing me close at the heels, overtook me upon the Terrass that bounds the Gardens, towards the River Tyber. May a man aspire, said he, saluting me, without temerity, to a minutes discourse with the renown'd Ovid? Does not the spiritual Terentia, and the great Agrippa, beget in you a loathing to­wards persons of Plebeian Capacities? 'Tis true, said I smiling, Ovid's spirit has an antipathy against all base and sordid conversation; and thence it proceeds, that he is so ambitious, of that of the noble Crassus. We measur'd the length of the Terrass, with such discourses as these. Crassus gave them the first diversion, and talking a while of things indifferent, at length with a kind of af­fected cenfidence (he would seem to repose in me) he began to acquaint me with the design he had to gain some considerable employ in the Army, which was marching for Illyria. You do not deal with me, added he, with that candor, as I with you; you see my heart meets you bare­fac'd and open breasted; and you have yet never honor'd me with the confidence of the least of your Secrets. My heart, said I, has hitherto been [Page 21] the Cabinet of very few Secrets: not has it ever been engag'd in any Intrigue of State: The mystery of some youthful gallantry has yet been the highest Point, either in the wheel of fortune or ambition it has aspired to; and by a misfortune, which my fate, not designs have drawn upon me, my Love-adventures do tread the stage of the World so pub­lickly, that it were a high piece of vanity in me, to go about to confide them, to a person of Crassus's intelligence. You are a grand dissembler, reply'd Crassus, and those Adventures you abandon to the publick, are only cast before their eyes like a jug­lers Mist, to dazle them so, that they may not through that thick Cloud discern the real ones: nor do you doubt to sacrifice some credulous Dames, who are the Stales only to your designs, to the safety of your more effective Mistresses. And as we saw not long ago with what artifice you made young Valerius himself, for two years together, the Stalking-horse to his Sisters dishonor. I'll swear the open feint you make at Sulpicia must include a sublime and intricate Mystery. This discourse made me tremble, for the concern I had for Julia. What reason have you to deny, said I, that the beauty of Sulpicia ought not to challenge the whole Empire of a heart, though capable of never so boundless a Passion? I will not prove my self guilty of so great an arrogance, as to boast my self worthy to make love to the fair Sulpicia; but sup­pose I were, has not Sulpicia think you, Wit and Charms enough to satiate each appetite of my Soul? Let her have all the Wit and Beauty too in the World, if you please, said Crassus; I will not endeavor to convince your supposition; but I shall maintain, that Sulpicia is not the Goddess of Ovid; [Page 22] you understand too well to frame your applicati­ons, to give the title of Goddess to the Wife of Tisienus. Lovers, said I, interrupting him, attri­bute the name of Goddess, to all such Objects as receive from them the Sacrifice of sighs and vows; neither is it the Rank, nor the Quality of any of the Sex, that can snatch this Laurel out of the mouth of a Lover, and crown their own temples with it; but 'tis the suitable harmony and proportion which is found between the title of Goddess, and the ado­rations of the Heart, that does fix it there. When Paris made love to the Shepherdess of Oenona, he gave her the same title he afterwards gave to the Wife of the Spartan King. But you do not ascribe, said Crassus, interrupting him, the name of the same Goddess of Hearts to Sulpicia, as you do to a Per­son more eminent: you offer up your feign'd de­votions to the Wife of Tisienus, but your real ado­rations to the consort of Mecoenas. This last word was the thread to guide me out of a Labyrinth of confusions; for all that Crassus imputed to Sulpi­cia, might so aptly be apply'd to the Daughter of Augustus, that till I heard the Consort of Mecoenas nam'd, I thought the whole Intrigue had been dis­cover'd. I assum'd courage, when I saw my fears were deluded, and regarding Crassus with a brisk air in my countenance; I understand you very well, said I, you take pleasure to introduce a discourse of the subject you love: but you might have spar'd your self the trouble, to derive its streams from so remote a head; I am complaisant to the desires of my friends, and we might have employ'd the time of our conversation to better advantage, if I had thought your design in entring into discourse with me, had been only to interweave it with that of [Page 23] the divine Terentia. The intervention of Domitius Aenobarbus, who walk'd likewise upon the same Terrass, prevented Crassus from making me an an­swer: he was upon us so unexpectedly, that we were forc'd to discontinue our Converse. You are acquainted with Domitius; he is one of the per­sons of greatest merit in the Court of Augustus; and had married one of the Daughters of the Prin­cess Octavia. We could not decline his encounter as we might have done another of less considera­tion. He invited me to Sup with him; and as soon as the Moon should lend us her silver Torch, engag'd me to wait upon him to a noble Palace he had built at Picene; I continued there three days, which my absence from Julia caused to ap­pear three ages to me. Besides the pleasure such a ravishing object would have afforded me, I was impatient to communicate to her, the advice I had received from Terentia in the Gardens of Lucullus, and consult her about the best means to elude the Emperors suspition. As soon as I put foot out of stirrup, I hasten'd to her Apartment. She was in her Closet with Sulpicia; the door was shut, but I had ofttntimes before taken the liberty to inter­rupt them in their privacy, the Princess not dis­approving it: Sulpicia came forth when she saw me; but Julia stood with her face turn'd from me towards the Window: I thought I discover'd by the eyes of Sulpicia, that something of discontent hast past betwixt the Princess and her self: Julia held some flowers in her hand, which she snapt off, and threw away, with an action full of passion and indignation: I approacht her with all humi­lity, and beg'd her to let me know wherein those innocent Flowers had displeas'd her. If you ever [Page 24] see her more, said she, without giving an answer to my demand, you must not expect to see me again as long as you live. How, reply'd I, in a strange surprize, must I never see my Princess more? What Devil shall have the power to deprive me of the adorable sight of my Goddess? The ill advi­sed Sulpicia, said the Princess. It seems I renounc'd the whole stock of interest I had in you, when I gave her leave to claim a small branch in it; nor does she doubt to tell me to my face, that her share in you is more considerable than mine; but she shall not long have cause to boast of these ad­vantages; for if I may pretend to any power over you, she shall soon see herself retrench'd of all your other favors, but indifferent visits. I leave you to judge to what a pitch of joy this pretty jea­lous concern of the Princess did elevate my Soul. I was cautious not to impart to her the advice Te­rentia had given me; it had come seasonable to me; and to disoblige Sulpicia in a conjuncture wherein the Emperors emergent suspitions began to threaten danger to our affairs, had been to hazard a great­er. But the interest of Love seldom complies with the rules of Prudence. I heap'd a Million of Bene­dictions upon each syllable her indignation utte­red; I limn'd to her a division in Love, in colors, which exprest it in all the shapes of horror and deformity; I complain'd of the injustice she had done all those faithful devoirs my love had rendr'd her by indulging it so much liberty; and I earnestly conjur'd her by a most strict Edict of her sove­reign displeasure to repeal all those she had suf­fer'd me to render to Sulpicia. The Princess gave attention to all I said, but answered me only in the language of a troubled Meen, which I did interpret [Page 25] as a good omen. I ask'd her divers questions touch­ing the vanities of Sulpicia; she declar'd some of them to me, and lest me to divine the rest. I per­ceiv'd that Sulpicia had done me greater services by her indiscretion, than her counsels; and by magni­fying her own advantages and interest, had not a little advanc'd mine: I had hopes the Sun would have broken forth gloriously upon me, after these sweet dawnings of my Princesses constancy and fa­vor towards me, had not the arrival of the Prince Marcellus, wholly eclips'd it; but I had the satis­faction to perceive, this disappointment was as un­welcome to the Princess, as my self; which she ex­prest with a gesture full of chagrin and discontent; and inclining herself towards my ear, she order'd me not to fail to attend her in the Flower-garden, which the windows of her apartment look d out upon, as soon as the Emperor was gone to his repose. We will decide our controversie, said she aloud, at the hour appointed; this time is not proper for such disputes.

Marcellus ask'd her, What the dispute was? No­thing, said Julia, but a small difficulty I have started to Ovid, touching his Treatise de Arte Amandi; and taking a Manuscript of it up in her hand, which by accident lay before her upon the Table in her Closet, she surpriz'd me with the presence of her sudden wit and apprehension: And ex tempore for­med a dispute with such ingenuity and solidity of Reasons, as if she had dedicated the study and pre­meditation of many hours to the contexture of so elegant a discourse; and by uttering a thousand things, which plausibly suiting the Subject in questi­on, did likewise suit with what had past, before the Princes arrival, she struck me into that admiration, [Page 26] that I was afraid, lest the unadvis'd Effects of it might have prov'd Traytors to their Sovereign Princess. I took my leave, and went to prepare the appetite of my Soul for that divine Treat, I hop'd that night would afford it. I make this Relation to a person, who has declar'd himself to the World, a Nonconformist in the Religion of Love; and has rather chosen the barbarous Isle of Thalassia for a Mistriss, than a beautiful Lady for a Wife; and therefore is incapable to judge of the state, my hope and impatience reduc'd me to. I was possest with a kind of amorous distraction, which render'd both solitude and company equally burdensom to me. Each moment seem'd an Age to me in my Cham­ber; and being impatient to deceive my impatience, going forth to divert it in Augustus's Palace, I kept continually in motion, and with large paces measu­ring the distance between one Apartment and ano­ther, I was not capable of making a serious reflecti­on upon the subject, that might be the cause of so restless a distemper. This motion, at length, like all others, was terminated in its centre. The Em­peror, at that time, was enter'd into a small course of Physic, which he us'd to observe every Spring. The Prince Marcellus, and Moecenas, came into Te­rentia's Chamber, where I was; and told her that Caesar was retir d. It was not yet the ordinary hour, the young Prince us'd to withdraw to his Repose: He made a Proposition to them of spending an hour or two at Play: Moecenas agreed to it; and a Con­cern either for one side, or other, had engag'd all their idle Followers. I threw away a little time in looking upon them, not to render the hastiness of my departure suspected; and thinking that I had observ'd all the necessary Rules of Policy, I took my [Page 27] time, and stole in all silence away from them; when, unexpectedly, one of Terentia's Women came after me, and told me, her Lady had some business with me, and desir'd me to walk into the next Room; I thought, at first, to have deny'd obedience to this or­der; but the fear I had, lest the cause of my diso­bedience might be suspected, join'd to the sincere esteem and veneration I had for Terentia, caus'd me to yield an unwilling obedience to it. Terentia had a desire to impart to me the design of a piece of galantry, she was preparing to solemnize on the birth day of Augustus, which was then near at hand. The thing intended requir'd no great premeditation: and if my wits had been in my own possession▪ a quarter of an hour had been sufficient to have dis­pos'd the whole Scene; but I was so little my self, that I scarce took notice of what she said to me. I forc'd her to repeat one thing two or three times over. She was sensible of my distraction, and smi­ling, ask'd me, If I had not been that day at some Treat? You know, very well, Madam, answer'd I, that Bacchus is not my Deity; but I protest that my wits are at this present so far from home, that if you do not allow me this night to compose them, your Mask will be very ill regulated. Terentia is endow'd with one of the sharpest apprehensions in the world; and unfortunately for me, was that night in a humor of Railery. She conjectur'd what it was, that had put me off of the hinges, and proposing to me di­vers questions of Wit and Gallantry upon the sub­ject of my Amours, which she thought would most oblige me, she detein'd me two long hours, maugre all the attempts I could make, to disingage my self, without rudeness, from her importunities. Crassus was one of the Spectators, when Prince Marcellus, [Page 28] and Mecoenas, began to set themselves to play; I could not divert his jealousie: For Domitius's arrival had prevented me, when I was going about to un­deceive his ill opinion of me; and from that hour I had alwayes been absent from Rome, or in some oc­casion or other, which gave me no opportunity to re­new our discourse, or converse. He observ'd how one of Terentia's Women, had come to me, and com­manded my stay, when I was going forth; he saw me direct my course, towards a Chamber, whither he had seen Terentia retire a little before; he stood Sentinel, with much impatience, to watch for my coming out, and was enrag'd, that I should be cloy­ster'd up two hours together with the person, to whom he had sacrific'd his highest adorations. His jealousie transported his fury beyond his reason, which caus'd him to follow me out of Mecoenas's a­partment; and to conceal the cause, as I conjecture, of his resentment, from those eyes, which were then upon him, he curb'd the effects of it, till he saw me just at the Gate of Mecoenas's Baths, which opens into the Garden, where I was commanded to attend. Turn again, Ovid, said he, advancing towards me with his Sword in his hand; the Blessings Fortune showrs down on thy glorious head, is worth a ha­zarding an inglorious life; for I knew the voice of Crassus, and apprehended his error; but it was im­possible then, to convince him of it; he attack'd me with a fury, which would not allow me time to open my lips to undeceive him. The Prince Marcellus arriv'd, just as we began to draw blood from each others veins; and separating us, exprest to us, in ob­liging terms, the concern he was in, to see two per­sons of so much honor, as either of us were, enga­ged in so desperate a quarrel. Whil'st the Prince [Page 29] was endeavoring to part us, a Maid-slave of the Princess, who waited for me at the Garden-door, to conduct me to a close Arbor, whither her Lady was retir'd, hearing the clashing of our swords and voi­ces, ran hastily to advertise her of our combat. The Princess imagin'd herself to be the cause of it; and thinking that this had been some ambush laid for me to chastise my audacity, she came running to the place, in a mortal distraction, betwixt love and fear. Her apprehension had rob d her of her judgment; and she let fall some unadvis'd words, which be­tray'd our intrigue; and being join'd to the circum­stance of that unseasonable hour, rais'd that suspiti­on in the breast of Augustus his Nephew, that no disguise could longer conceal from him. Marcellus was a Prince of great honor and virtue; but the hopes that did elevate him to the thoughts of aspi­ring to the Marriage of Julia, had stamp'd a new character upon the goodness of his nature. He ad­dress d his complaints to the Emperor, against the indiscretion and dishonourable carriage of his daughter; which so inflam'd his indignation, that he presently sent the Princess away to Tusculum, where so watchful a Guard was set over her, that I durst not hazard any attempt either to purchase a sight of her, or convey a Letter to her; and in a short time after, I receiv'd the Order of my own Banishment. The generous Terentia employ'd her power with the Emperor, to qualifie his displeasure; but the information, which the malice of some ill Men had whisper'd to him, forc'd him to return her a denial. In the mean time Crassus, (who being convinc'd by the resentments of Prince Marcellus, had the justice to think, that a person grac'd with that favor by the daughter of Augustus, as to obtain her [Page 30] compliance to such night-assignations, could not probably be embark'd in any other adventure of the like nature) believ'd that he had attack'd me with­out reason. He came to take his leave of me, the same morning, I was to take mine of Rome; when he inform'd me of those things, which you may ima­gine I could not by my self arrive to the knowledge of; and testify'd his trouble and grief to me in terms so passionate, that they wholly disarm'd my indigna­tion. But his too late repentanee could not restore me my Julia again: In adventures of this nature, an occasion once lost, is never to be retrieved more.

Whil'st Ovid was making this Relation of his se­cret intrigue with Julia, the Thalassian Lady, to whose heart the blind Archer had sent one of his most invisible darts, felt the real effects of her Friends predictions. Ovid's hopes had deceiv'd him, when he was willing to believe, that the fair Roselina, was the private Inamorata: But the knavish Boy took delight to sport with the severe humor of the daugh­ter of Lepidus, and it was she, who was become amorous of the reputation of the famous Ovid. Oh! cruel Friend, said she to Roselina, you have taught my heart a Lesson, it ought to have been ignorant of. It is too manifest a truth, that the person of Ovid has ravish'd from me that esteem, which I thought nothing, but his Works had been capable to challenge. There is a Magic in the air of his coun­tenance, which has enchanted me at the first sight; and if I had not presently retir'd from the place, where we first saw him, I believe, I should not have been able to have conceal'd my surprize from the observation of the Company. Alas! went she on, with a sigh, Love takes now too cruel a revenge, of the contempt, I have alwayes hitherto express'd for his power.

I do not perceive, reply'd Roselina, that this god merits that character of Revenge, you impose upon him: Ovid bears not in the World the repute of a cruel person; and I am deceiv'd, if he be of that inhumane temper, as to be insensible of a passion, which is dress'd in so many Charms and Beauties, as Junia is Mistriss of. Ah! replied Junia, my heart shall never betray that secret to him: Ovid is the wild Ranger of Cupid's Chases, and unconstant by profession, whom all the Charms, Venus herself is Mistriss of, are not able to confine to one Object; and should mine, as inconsiderable, as they are, be in­dued with that miraculous power, as to influence a constancy upon him, Tisienus informs me, that the cause of his disgrace, is only a jealousie of Augustus: And Terentia's interest will quickly re-establish him in the Emperor's favor, and the Banishment of Ovid will have an end, as soon as she shall interpose her authority between him and Caesar's indignation. Do not you think me then most unfortunate in a Passion, which I am in danger to give entertainment to alone; and were its reciprocal, would be alwayes expos'd to the terror of an infallible separation? Arimant, unhappy Arimant, said she, letting some tears fall, I now undergo a rigorous chastisement for all the injuries, I have done thee.

About this Season, Junia was accustomed to cele­brate the Birth-day of her Father: she had upon other Years invented divers sorts of Games and Re­creations to honor that solemn day, and for this, she had design'd a Consort of Musick upon a Lake, which was one of the greatest Wonders, that il­lustrated that Island. Roselina, was her assistant in the design. She had acquaintance in Mitilena, the Metropolis of Lesbos, by means whereof, she had pro­cur'd [Page 32] a Company of choice Musitians from thence. They came the same night, that Ovid arriv'd. Junia express'd all the diligences of a solicitous Lover, to regale her Ovid with a Banquet of Music, for his first welcome to Thalassia; and as the intent of this fro­lick had no other object, than Ovid, she gave order to the Musicians to tell all, that should examine them, that Ovid had set them on work. The Inhabitants were much surpriz'd, when walking in the evening by the side of the Lake, they heard the noise of di­vers voices and instruments rebound from some Boats to the shore, which were purposely prepar'd for that Solemnity. Those, who understood not the mystery look'd upon one another with astonish­ment, and enquir'd, Who amongst them were the Authors of this piece of Gallantry? Every one de­ny'd it; you will perceive presently, said Ovid smi­ling, that we ought to pay our thanks to Hortensius for it. He has an intention to chastise himself for a fault, which he is indebted to for his banishment, and repealing his Error, dedicates to some fair Ilandress this public testimony of his conversion. These false Elogiums, reply'd Hortensius, cannot seduce my va­nity; you must attack me by some more subtle stra­tagem, to make me imitate the Crow in Aesop: And I shall not only not render my self guilty of dedica­ting a Treat to any Thalassian Lady, but shall esteem the suspition, or thought of having done it, an in­jury, I will not say to the honor, but humor, of Hor­tensius. This is only a glory you have, said Junia, interrupting him, to make the vanity of your ill hu­mor, more conspicuous. I do not think it worth my admiration, that there are so many Souls in the world incapable of that generous Passion; the Star, which governs the sublunary Empire of Love, is [Page 33] doubtless not without its oppositions; and the Hea­vens are of an extent vast enough to comprise two contrary influences within their circumference; but general divertisements are the innocent effects of a Gallantry, without design or interest, and like the Motto's annex'd to honorable Coats of Arms, may be practis'd as well by a heart wholly unconcern'd, as that, which is most inflam'd.

The Spectacles, or Games, reply'd Hortensius, we exhibit to the People, or the Diversions and Recrea­tions we present to our Friends, may bear that Motto of indifferency, you have character'd to us; but those which are wholly consecrated to the honor of Ladies, must necessarily include a design to please and oblige the Sex, which I never was, nor ever shall be, and am, at this moment, in despair of ever being capable of. I shall pay to it all the respects, a person of honor cannot acquit himself from without incivility; and if any one of them should be re­duc'd to that streight or circumstance, which should call upon my assistance, I would afford it her with as much fidelity and zeal, as if I had been from my Cradle a profest Lover: But this I should perform, by a principle of natural compassion, which is capa­ble of no partiality to either Sex; and would ex­press itself with as much concern towards the most unworthy of all Men, as the fairest of all Women. I judge this indifferency of Hortensius, said Roselina, may be a vice of that ill temperament, which nature first season'd him with: but I think I saw another way, to derive its pedegree: the aversion he has for our Sex, is too violent to be the effect only of an antipathy without any foundation: I am of opini­on, it is the daughter rather of Revenge, than Na­ture; and if he will be so ingenious, as to avouch [Page 34] the truth, the Memory of some past injuries has im­printed this character in his Soul.

I am not able, said Lentulus, taking up the dis­course, to satisfie your doubts concerning Hortensius; but if you have a desire to be resolv'd of those con­cerning the Neptunian harmony, I can assure you, that Ovid is the Author of it, and that I receiv'd my intelligence from the Mouths of the Musicians themselves. This News surpriz'd the Company with wonder, which could not sufficiently admire by what stratagem Ovid had been able in so short a time to assemble and unite, in one body, the various parts of so perfect a Consort. Some call'd him In­chanter, others desir'd him to impart some of his Magick to them, and every one render'd him the subject of his own confusion, and their astonish­ment. He had set foot in this Island, in a humor little suiting with such kind of diversions: He was scarce thrown ashore, when he encountred his two Friends, and since that Moment Hortensius had never been out of his company; he desir'd him to answer for his innocence, and free him from those undeser­ved praises, they charg'd him with. He complain'd of Lentulus for having been the Author of this distasteful Railery, and conjur'd him, not without a little passion, to suppress a folly which had sported too long with his afflictions, and was so disagreeable a Companion for them. His Protestations, and his Complaints, were not regarded, but as the effects of his Modesty; and whatever he could alledge in his excuse, the honor of the Pageant was fix'd upon him. He was troubled to be made the Mask to an­others disguise: which caus'd him to rise very early the next Morning, to find out the Merchants, who had sold their lyes and labor at so cheap a rate: He [Page 35] could not speak with them the Evening before, for Lentulus had not publish'd what they had told him; till after the Consort was ended. Ovid hop'd to make them deny, what they had said, and discover the intrigue of this pleasant Mystery, but his most diligent search could not retrieve one of them in the whole Island. Junia took great pleasure in the suc­cess of her innocent Railery and to give herself a little more diversion, had discharg'd them, and sent them away, who by break of day embark'd them­selves upon a Vessel which set Sail for Bisantinus. Their departure much displeas'd Ovid, who admi­red, that Fortune should express so much crossness to him of late, as to oppose most envious obstacles to the least of his desires: and these reflexions re­presenting him to the feet of his divine Julia in her private Closet, brought such a Melancholy upon him, that he could not in that condition digest the thought of returning to Hortensius. He took his walk into a Meadow, which his wandring fancy conducted him to: where he had scarce measured four or five paces, when he perceiv'd Roselina trip­ping over the farther end of it, towards a Grove of Cypress Trees; which some Outlaws, who had been formerly confin'd to the place, had probably taken pleasure to plant there. Ovid found this Stranger so charming, that though he had establish'd Julia in the throne of his heart, for the sovereign Empress of his affections, yet he judg'd he should not turn Traytor to the principles of his sworn Loy­alty, in giving a slight diversion to that Mortal dis­content, which for her absence had invaded his Soul. He followed the tract of Roselina; the labyrinth, which she enter'd into, had been design'd for a soli­tary retirement; where the paths, with a curious [Page 36] artifice interwoven into divers innocent knots, as well to confound each other, as the unwary Stran­ger, were not very difficult to be trac'd through all their implicite Meanders. Ovid, with a little trouble, was guided by his cautious steps, to a green square, encompass'd round with flowry banks, and other natural seats of fragrant verdure, which seem'd to be the centre of this pleasant Wilderness: He found there, a Guittar and Books, in which, amongst some Musical Notes, that were blur'd and torn, he read these following Verses.

At the foot of these Verses, there were divers Cyphers, drawn with a Pencil, wherein the Letters, that compos'd the name of Ovid, were easie to be discern'd. He flatter'd himself with a belief, that his secret Mistriss, had in this place entertain'd her amorous Passion, and finding the method, by which she exprest it, very ingenious and elegant, he retort­ed them in this manner.

He left a blank for his name, as well not to hazard an indiscretion, as to oblige the Lady, to explain her self first; and skreening himself behind a bank, he presently saw Roselina enter. She took the Guittar, which she touch'd with admirable skill and sweet­ness; and in playing, cast her eyes upon the Books, and read that which was interlin'd betwixt the Notes, as one would read a thing, he had by rote before. She was present, when Junia made those Verses that morning; but by accident throwing down the Book, the Leaves turn'd, and Roselina dis­cover'd Ovid's answer to them. She read it over more than once, and stopping at the place, where Ovid had left the blank for his name, she seem'd to be put to a puzzle, to find out something to fill it up, and suddenly casting up her eyes to Heaven, and clapping her hands one against the other, she run hastily towards the track, which guided her out of the Labyrinth. She need not have done any more, to assure Ovid, that his desires and conjectures had not deluded him. He made not the least scruple, but that Roselina was the Party, whose heart his Fame had led in triumph after him; and congratulating his happy Stars for this their benign influence, he resolv'd to make it the diversion of his banishment. Roselina might have been easily overtaken by a per­son, that would have pursu'd her; but Ovid, was an experienc'd Lover, and knew with what precaution and tenderness he ought to manage the bashful Mo­desty of young Ladies, and leave the impression of the first attacks, to receive its perfection from the stamp of more serious reflexions. Roselina com­manded as much liberty to retire, as she pleas'd: and Ovid quitted not his post, till he thought he had al­low'd her sufficient time to make an entire retreat: [Page 38] when all transported with joy, that he had made so happy an entrance into the Temple of Venus, he retur­ned to Hortensius, where he found Lentulus, who wil­ling to oblige his old Friend, invited him to dine with him. They fell again upon the discourse of the Musick: Ovid renew'd his complaints against Lentulus, for having made him the Subject of a Rai­lery, he was totally ignorant of. Lentulus confirm'd again, what he had affirm'd the night before. Ovid seriously protested, that those Musicians had told him a great untruth; adding a solemn Oath, that he had not the least concern, or knowledge of a consort, as miraculously vanish'd as at first assem­bled: which, at length, alter'd the opinion of Len­tulus; and at the same time the gayetie, which ap­pear'd before, in his countenance. Ovid soon took notice of it, and ask'd him the cause of this sudden change? It is too manifest, reply'd Lentulus, that I am betray'd! O ye gods, cry'd he, fetching a deep sigh, Is it possible that a person, who has so long commanded the highest adorations of my Soul, should be capable of so foul a treachery? We shall afford you our advice and consolation, said Horten­sius interrupting him, as soon as we shall be inform­ed of the cause of these extravagant Exclamations. Alas, said Lentulus, I need no intreaties to satisfie your curiosity: A person in my condition, feels a greater reluctancy in himself, to conceal a secret from his Friends, than to reveal it to them.

THE HISTORY OF Lentulus.

WHen I receiv'd the Emperors Orders to march the second time against the Getes, and reduce them to their Obedience; he consider'd this Expedition, as a Work only of some few Months: and I assure you, I my self thought it not of that importance, as the sequel declar'd it. I was acquainted with the manner of fighting, the milita­ry Laws and Stratagems of that People: This ex­perience gave me great advantages over them. Their Revolt was yet so young, and so newly crept out of the shell of Sedition, that it wanted growth and age to establish it with firmity; and the Troops, which Caesar committed to my conduct, were all of choice and select men. In the mean while the al­most inexpugnable obstinacy of this Nation, gave me more trouble and laborious exercise, than I could have imagin'd: and prolong'd a War for two whole years, which I hop'd to have concluded in less than one Campagne. This repugnance provok'd me to those acts of severity, which my ordinary temper is [Page 40] naturally averse from. I sent away the chief Ma­gistrates of some of their Cities, to plant Colonies in the desart Islands of the frozen Sea; and running a great danger of my life in an Encounter, from whence the Romans were forc'd to retire with loss and dishonor, I cull'd out of the Prisoners, we took, those of the best shapes, and extraction amongst them; and sent them, as a Present, to the Officer, who had the charge of the Gladiators. This revenge was the most rigorous, that I could inflict upon those obstinate Getes: which transported them to that rage and despair, that a few dayes after I had taken this course, the Sentinels, who were plac'd round my Tent, took a young Man attempting to force his entrance into it, who being search'd, was found to carry a dagger conceal'd about him. He was brought before me; when the first view I took of him, did not more surprize, than charm my ad­miration. He seem'd not to be above sixteen, or seventeen years of age. His stature scarce reach'd the middle size of Men, and wanted the addition of some years to give it its just proportion: but yet it was noble and of generous deportment; and each action of his person did bear the stamp and character of a charming greatness. His first aspect seem'd, by a secret Magic, to disarm my resolution of a Re­venge, to the rage whereof, I was fully bent to sa­crifice him, and all, that bore the name of Gete. I ask'd him, with a great deal of sweetness, what de­sign had brought him into my Camp? and for what intent he would have forc'd an entrance into my Pa­vilion?

To have kill'd thee, if it had been possible, reply'd the fierce Youth; my rage is too just, to be dis­own'd; and the only regret, which shall attend my [Page 41] wretched life unto those infamous tortures, to which I know, thy cruelty will soon expose it, is to outlive the effects of so glorious an attempt. Alas, my Friend, said I, what injustice have I committed against thee, that should inspire thy fury with resent­ments so barbarous and so criminal? Thou hast pra­ctis'd, said he, against me, one of the most sensible acts of barbarism, which was in thy power to exe­cute upon me; I am descended of a blood, that ought to be of some consideration amongst the Ro­mans. Death depriv'd me of a Father and a Mo­ther, at an age, when I was only capable of acknow­ledging one only Brother for all my Relations and Parents: and Barbarian, him thou hast rob'd me of; and being insensible of the charms of that Youth, who was born with all the advantages, wherewith nature and education could accomplish him, hast bar­barously added him to the number of the Gladiators, for a worthy spectacle to entertain the effeminacy and cruelty of the Tyrant of Rome: and the first, perhaps, wherewith he designs to regale the lusts of the Adultress Livia, shall be exhibited at the preci­ous expence of my Brothers life. Oh ye gods, went he on, (whose fury this reflexion had inflam'd,) is it possible, that after an act of such inhumanity, I should tamely look upon thee with calmness, speak to thee, and not revenge upon thy loathed person, the injury thou hast perpetrated against the blood of Herennius? In pronouncing these last words, with a savage fury he would have darted himself in my face: which second attempt, having turn'd the points of more than twenty javelins upon his breast, had soon receiv'd its due chastisement, had not I interpos'd my self betwixt him and the indiscreet zeal of those, that were ready at so many gaps to let [Page 42] forth his desperate life. I pretended, I would wheedle out of him some discoveries, which might concern my own safety; and I gave order, he should be kept under a strict Guard, in a Chamber near mine. This command wanted not an appearance of reason; be­cause it was not improbable, but that he might have some Complices: And supposing I had an intent to put him to death, it ought to be such a death, as might strike a terror, into all such, as might be en­gag'd with him in the same design. But these con­siderations were not the Motives of my preserving his life: another more unknown and secret instinct render'd it as dear to me, as my own. I was more surpriz'd, than he himself, when they presented their Javelins to his throat; and if my voice had not been sufficient to avert the danger, which threaten'd him, I think I should have oppos'd my own breast for a buckler, to have defended his. When I found my self alone, and enter'd into a serious reflexion upon the subject of these extravagant sentiments, which so insensibly incroach'd upon my reason, I impeach'd it of weakness and effeminacy; and was ready to open my mouth a thousand times, to give com­mand to have an object, which with so infamous a distemper infected my judgment, remov'd out of the world by most exquisite tortures, but I had never the power, to pronounce the sentence, which hung upon my lips. Some Demon, or other enemy to my repose and glory, had charm'd my tongue, and allow'd me only the use of it, to give order to have the Criminal brought again to my presence. I said, and believ'd too at that time, that I had no other intent in causing him to be arraign'd before me, than by some curious questions, to extort an humble con­fession from him: But as soon as I cast my eyes upon [Page 43] him, so sudden a fear possest me, lest he should an­swer like a desperate and stubborn wretch, and by that obstinacy provoke me to a necessity of inflicting death upon him even against my will, that I did not dare to propose one question to him: I pretended generosity; and told some Officers, whom the re­port of this accident had brought to my Tent, that if the attempt of the Gete had aim'd at any of their persons, he should have receiv'd his due punish­ment, at the same Moment I had been made ac­quainted with it; but since it was only level'd at mine, I would willingly force my own resentments to subscribe to the ambition I had, to try all manner of wayes to conquer the rigor and obdurateness of that stiff Nation. We ought to make an experi­ment, said I, whether these People may not be more sensible of our generosity, than severity. I will give this young Fellow his life, restore to him his Bro­ther, oblige him with Presents, and send him away with his liberty, to proclaim amongst his Countrey­men, that the Romans never exercise their rigor, but upon the obstinate and incorrigible; and that when the fortune only of Mars renders them Masters of their Enemies, they treat them, like Brothers. This opinion of mine found but few assenters amongst them; and those, who oppos'd it, were doubtless endu'd with most judgment and reason: But I did not propose it to them, as if I ask'd their advice in the case, but as if I had done them the favor to com­municate it to them, as a resolution already fix'd and establish'd. I made a sign to the Prisoner to draw nearer to me; who approaching, I exhorted him never to attempt base and indirect wayes, to revenge himself of his Enemies; and after a long discourse, wherewith the standers by seem'd to be [Page 44] more mov'd, than the sullen Gete, I concluded by declaring to him, that I granted him a life, his trea­son had forfeited, together with the liberty of his Brother.

The Youth seem'd to be transported beyond him­self with a rapture of joy at this generous effect of my clemency; and casting himself at my feet, with a stream of tears, (which seem'd even thorow my breast to have found a channel to convey themselves to my heart) purling down his cheeks ah! Lentu­lus, said he, a Person truly worthy to bear the name of Roman; thou hast this day purchas'd a fame, which shall make more Nations bow to the Sceptre of Caesar, than thy most victorious Arms could ever pretend to. My Brother shall employ that life and honor, thou hast here preserv'd, to render himself worthy of thy matchless generosity. As for my self, I am only capable of offering up vows and oraisons to Heaven for the augmentation of thy glo­ry, and the preservation of thy precious life. This hand the gods never shap'd for Sword or Lance, it was fury only that arm'd it; and to disguise nothing from a Person, to whom I owe all, know I am a Woman, and that thou hast preserv'd the blood of a renowned Roman, in preservation of my Brother, and my self. Imagine in your thoughts the surprize, I was in, at this attestation: I had before a blind in­clination to protect the life of that audacious Youth, but when this inclination saw it self in a capacity to be own'd as a legitimate Love, it grew like a Giant, as I may say, in the Cradle, and in a Moment at­tain'd to that Maturity and Strength, that as no elo­quence in the Mouth of another was able to confute it, so none in my own, is capable to give it its due character. I hastily rais'd the fair Counterfeit, I a [Page 45] thousand times beg'd her pardon for the ill treat­ment she had receiv'd both from me, and my Peo­ple: The confusion of my countenance and dis­course, more clearly discover'd to her, what was agitated at the Counsel-Table of my heart, than the most flourishing Rhetorick, was able to have ex­press'd. She soon perceiv'd it; and if I may al­low credit to the asseveration of a Woman, a sense of gratitude wrought the same effects in her fair Soul, as her beauty did in mine. I understood from her, that she was call'd Herennia, and descended from that famous Herennius, who follow'd Sertorius into Spain at the time of the Tyranous Reign of Sylla. Herennia was not the own proper daughter of that Herennius, she was too young; but she was the daughter of a son of that illustrious Proscript: who, after his Fathers death, having scatter'd the misera­ble Relicks both of his own, and his Fathers wan­dring Errors over most Parts of the Universe, at last fix'd his Residence amongst the Getes; and had by a Lady, of an incomparable beauty, whom he had es­pous'd, this Herennia, and the young Herennius. They were Twins, and were left Orphans, almost as soon as they fell into the arms of the wide World; and had had their Education under a Roman, a Do­mestick of their Grandfather, who had instructed them in the Latine Tongue. Old Herennius did af­ter the death of Sertorius retire into the Baleare Islands, whither the Tutor to the two young In­fants follow'd him, and there learn'd the Spanish Tongue, which he afterwards taught his Pupils. He was a great Master in divers Arts and Sciences, which were requisite for the accomplishment of Per­sons of Quality; nor had he been a Niggard in im­parting them to the two Herennian Orphans; and [Page 46] finding them richly indu'd with natural capacities, had render'd them two Prodigies, of Learning, Wit and Education.

These things did she recount to me with an ex­cellent grace, and testifi'd an impatient desire of see­ing the Native Countrey of her Ancestors. I pro­mis'd her to conduct her thither, as soon as the War was ended; and ever after I caus'd her to be treated like a Roman of Quality, whose Renowned Prede­cessors Fortune had before as unjustly ravish'd from, as now again it had miraculously restor'd to Italy. I re-invested her likewise in those Lands, which be­long'd to her in the Territories of the Getes; all which were then lately fallen into the power of the Romans: I made a distinction betwixt those, and our other Conquests; and appointed certain Troops to guard them, as if they had been a part of the Pa­trimony of the Empire. The young Herennius was set at liberty by the Captain of the Gladiators, and honor'd with such Charges, as his age was capable of, in our Army; but he did not continue long in them, for he left the Camp by stealth, and since his departure, we could never gain any intelligence of him. The favors I confer'd upon Herennius, and those wherewith I daily studied to oblige his Sister, did purchase me her entire good will, and as she was of a candid integrity, and her intentions sin­cere, she made no scruple to declare to me, the real sentiments she had for me. That Summers Cam­pania was drawing to an end, and my Troops be­gan to look towards their Winter-quarters; Heren­nia made her ordinary Residence in a House, not far distant from the Camp. I entertain'd all the leisure my duty would permit me to steal from my charge, in her conversation: I promised you, said she to me [Page 47] one day, if you remember, only oraisons and vows in exchange, for the life you gave me, and the liberty you promis'd my Brother: And since your genero­sity has not confin'd it self to the limits of your bare word, my gratitude thinks it self oblig'd too, not to contain it self within the bounds of a single ac­knowledgment; I challenge, methinks, a more sen­sible interest in all that relates to you, than a bare sense of a favor is capable of producing. I ought to pay you a respect, as to the General of the Romans; and though I had no other interest in your Concerns, than what the Memory of the Obligations I owe you begets in me, your preservation and felicity ought to be held by me in the same rank with mine own: But when I consider you within the reach of any danger, those Obligations present themselves no more to my thoughts, but the preservation only of the person of Lentulus, which I prefer before the devoir of an acknowledgment; and if interest mo­ved you to act, as you have done, you ought to re­pent your self, that you have oblig'd me: for, me­thinks, the sense of your favors, have no alliance at all with the sentiments, I find in my breast for you.

O! Adorable Herennia, cry'd I, may you ever forget in that manner the Obligations, for which you think your self redevable to me: they are but acts of justice, which merit not a place in your thoughts, and can only charge me with the praise of having perform'd my devoir: But may you ever, ever remember, that Lentulus adores you; that the terrible shape, wherein you first presented your self to his view, could not defend his heart against the effects of your charms; and that he shall love you to the last Moment of his Life with a Passion, no Lo­vers [Page 48] heart was ever yet capable of. That which you would have me forget, said Herennia interrupting me, ought perhaps with more Reason to challenge a place in my Memory, than that which you desire I should retein. You have effectually snatch'd me out of the jaws of death, into which my fury would have precipitated me: the Liberty of my Brother, is an essential favor; the Obligations, you have heap'd upon me, are real Obligations, and your Love, perhaps, may not have the same solidity: It is a Chimera, which time will dissipate without your per­mission; but yet by a Magick, which my strongest Resolutions cannot conquer, this Chimera charms my Soul with a more real delight, than a Verity would do of more importance. There is no necessity that I should farther enlarge my self upon this subject, added Lentulus, the indifferent Hortensius will dis­pense with a more tedious recital of such delicate cir­cumstances; and the Amorous Ovid comprehends as well as my self, the Raptures they infus'd into my Soul, which did banquet upon them in all peace and tranquility, till Tiberius came like an intruding Guest, and intrench'd upon the bounds of my feli­city: He envy'd the credit and favor of Marcellus; and the prudent Livia fearing the ill consequences of his Malice, had persuaded the Emperor to dispatch him away towards me, with some new Levies he had made, to reinforce the Getish War; the Orders of Tiberius, were nothing different from those, I had receiv'd from Caesar; and it appear'd by the limita­tions of them, that Tiberius was sent to me rather as a Collegue, than a General: But I in him regard­ed the Son of an ambitious Empress, and without any repugnance resign'd to him the honor of the Su­preme Command; which he manag'd at first with [Page 49] moderation enough. And if the attempt of He­rennia had never been known to him, I believe we might have at this hour held a fair correspon­dence together: but the report of it being con­vey'd to him, by one of those Tale-brokers which follow Camps, as well as Courts, he consider'd it as an Adventure so singular and admirable, that he would needs see her. A secret presage with­in my Soul rendred this curiosity suspected to it; I endeavour'd to divert it with all the arguments my jealousie suggested to me but being able to frame none, but what his obstinacy was resolved to confute. Tiberius would not be convinc'd▪ nor could I excuse my self from conducting him to the house were she was.

I will declare so much in the honor of the beauti­ful Herennia; she observ'd those precautions in all her actions before him, that I could not have exacted from her. She supprest part of the na­tural vivacity of her Spirit, and only suffer'd him to discover, what was impossible for her to dis­guise from him; whilst her deportment was whol­ly divested of that gaity and all which gave it at other times a most charming grace: her regards were modest and constrain'd: in a word, Hiren­nia, that offer'd her self then to the eyes of Tibe­rius, was not the same Herennia, that in our private Converse us'd to present her self to mine; but yet though she affected to appear so wholly al­ter'd from her self, she had not the power not to charm Tiberius. This Prince is one of the great­est dissemblers in the Universe; for a while he dis­guis'd his thought; but perceiving, in some visits he afterwards made to Herennia, that I had a Pas­sion for her, and she some appearance of good will [Page 50] for me, his jealousie for that time became his Ma­ster, and transported him beyond the Politicks of his dissimulation; you have taken your leave of a fair opportunity, said he to me one day, of ma­king your court to Caesar, by giving liberty to a Daughter of the Herennius's; you might have made a onsiderable Present to the Emperor in the per­son of this Slave; and if you will bestow her up­on me to make one to the Empress, you shall in exchange command any thing of me, that lies in my power to oblige you. I Sir, cry'd I, all sur­priz'd, Can I deliver up to you, in the quality of a Slave, a young Daughter of the Blood of He­rennius? Oh Sir! said I, are you ignorant of the Prerogatives which like so many Gems in an Im­perial Diadem, incircle the glorious name of a Ro­man? Herennia is your Compatriot as well as mine; if the Caprice of fortune has for some time de­priv'd her of the advantages her birth gave her, it could not deprive her of the Rights of it: and in­stead of rendring a service to the Emperor, in de­taining Herennia in slavery, I am convinc'd, that Caesar would enter into Arms to protect her from it, if any one should be so presumptuous as to at­tempt to impose unworthy Chains upon her liber­ty. The Blood of Herennius, reply'd Tyberius, is not so recommmendable to Caesar, as you seem to persuade your self: he was one of those Rebels disguised, who under pretence of establishing Rome in a liberty which she is too fortunate to have for­feited now to so glorious a Change, did miserably dilaniate the State by their divisions; and sacri­ficed the chief of the Roman Nobility to their pri­vate Lusts and Interests. The persons you men­tion Sir, said I, were never branded with that [Page 51] Title, but by the enemies of the publick Liberty. None dare deny but that the Reign of Augustus ought to be preferr'd before that Liberty, which Sertorius and the Grandfather of Herennia did with such pertinacy defend. But Sir, when they decla­red themselves the Protectors of it, it was not Caesar that invaded it. And I doubt not but they would have unanimously deferr'd it to the high merit of Augustus, what they disputed with the tyrannous ambition of Sylla: And though Caesar should consi­der them no otherwise than as the second causes, which Heaven employ'd to wrest the Empire out of the hands of a bloody Marius, and Sylla, to conserve it for the Caesarian Race, I assure my self he would have no dis-esteem for their memory.

The Emperor has too much reason, reply'd Ti­berius, not to entertain a just resentment for all such, as oppos'd the establishment of the Sove­rain Power; he is sensible that the same persons, who ran counter to the designs of Sylla, would have gloried to have been the Assassins of the Great Julius, had they lived in his Age. They were a company of opiniatre and ambitious Spi­rits, who judging that the World could not dis­cover sufficient merit in them to elevate them to the Throne of Sovereign Authority, would like so many bloody Anatomists, dissect it into va­riety of parts, that each one might possess a par­cell'd Empire for his share. The person of Ma­rius, or that of Sylla, or that of Augustus, would have challeng'd the same Rank in their levelling thoughts. It is a Maxime of State to destroy all the young Sciens of that Seditious Race: If Heren­nia had been the only remaining Branch of the rebellious Stock of Herennius, something might [Page 52] have been allow'd to her Sex; but she has a Bro­ther, who has lately by a surreptitious attempt con­vey'd himself out of the reach of our Power; and therefore is but justice, that his Sister should re­main a Pledge for him; and if you persist in [...] defence, I shall be forc'd to advertise the Empe­ror of your obstinacy, and cause her to be secu­red till I receive farther Orders from Caesar. Up­on this discovery of the ill intentions of Tiberius. I thought to have made my resentments whisper a harsh language in his ear; but I was afraid to create any division in the Army. I impos'd a great constraint upon my self, to avoid an incon­venience of that importance; and protesting that the Person of Herennia was wholly indifferent to me, I only represented to Tiberius, that he ought to consult the opinion of the chief Officers, touch­ing the regard due to the sacred name of a Roman. Ti­berius readily assented to this proposition: he doubt­ed not, but that the title of the Son of Livia would captivate the suffrages of the whole Council to his own desires. And to speak the truth, the credit of the Empress was so formidable to the greatest part of the Romans, that Tiberius had perhaps succeeded in his design, had I allow'd him the leisure to proceed in it. I went the same night to Herennia, and giving her a brief account of what had happen'd, I possest her with such an horror of Tiberius's intentions, that she protested to me, she was resolv'd to run all hazards, to conserve her liberty. I provided her a faithful guide, a Captain of a Cohort, in whom I could repose at entire confidence; to him I committed her con­duct; and allowing her only one of her Relations to accompany her, who was desirous to share in [Page 53] her fortune, I convey'd her into this Island, to at­tend here under the name of Roselina, a more fa­vourable destiny, than that the Getish Camp pre­sented to her.

How, said Ovid, interrupting Lentulus, is Ro­selina that same Herennia, whose History you here recount to us? And is it Roselina, of whose af­fections, you so confidently assure your self?

Roselina, reply'd Lentulus, is the very same person, who captivated my affections, the first minute I beheld her under the name of Herennia, and shall command them to the last moment of my life, under what title soever she shall be pleas'd to ho­nor the World with her disguise: But oh! ye gods, she is now no longer that Herennia, from whom amongst the Getes I receiv'd such tender demon­strations of her affection. Tiberius was not ad­vertised of the departure of our Fugitives, but when it was not possible for him to retrieve them: which transported him to the highest degree of rage; but thinking it safe for him directly to attack my Person, which he knew was in good esteem with the Soldiery, he vented his fury upon some of the Cavalry, whom I had made choice of for her Con­voy. He laid to their charge the Crime of De­sertion, and proceeded against them as Criminals convicted. I vigorously oppos'd my self against a course of so much injustice, and declar'd, that they had not left the Camp, but by my leave. This it was, which gave him a fair ope at me, as he imagin'd: whereupon he published a Remon­strance against my Conduct; charg'd me with hold­ing intelligence with some principal Getes, impu­ted the protraction of the War to the private em­ploys, upon which I put the Imperial Forces, and [Page 54] dispatching away his accusations to the Emperor, he engag'd the credit of Livia so powerfully a­gainst me, that Augustus caused me to be cited before the Senate, to render an account of my proceedings. The whole Army can testifie my fidelity; and though the reduction of the Getes requir'd more time than I at first apprehended, yet the services I perform'd against those Rebels, are not perhaps unworthy that reputation the World does flatter me with: But the favor of Livia was not to be ballanced, either with evidence, or justice. I left the Camp, as if I had addrest my journy towards Rome; but as it is never safe for a Sub­ject to lay his head at the foot of his Sovereign, neither was it any longer in my power, to live without the sight of Herennia, I resolv'd to dedi­cate all the time my friends judg'd necessary for the quallifying the indignation of Caesar, to my charming Amour. Cepion only, who is my par­ticular friend, is acquainted with the place of my retreat: he remains still in the Camp, from whence he advertises me, of what is acted against my in­terest there; and by a Correspondent which I have at Lesbos, I receive certain intelligence what state my affairs are in at Rome. The reception I have hitherto received from Roselina, has been conformable to the Sentiments I have always ob­served in Herennia; till some few days since, I was sensible of an alteration. I have two or three times surprised her reading some Love-verses, whereof she refused to discover the Author. She has daily some secret or other to impart to Junia, wherein she will not do me the honor to be her Confident. The night before yesterday, a little after your arrival, she dropt some Tablets, filled [Page 55] with the amorous Complaints of a Heart, forc'd [...] to render it self to the violence of an imperious Pas­sion; she found me perusing them; and perceiving they gave me a sensible disquiet, instead of en­deavouring to calm it, she strove to laugh me out of it, and told me with a brisk air in her coun­tenance (which had almost plung'd me into the deepest precipice of despair) that the assurance of a reciprocal love, transported Lovers into an Ely­sium of Joy and Content; and that it was no small satisfaction to her, to see that mine was capable of fear and apprehension. When I desired her to inform me who it was, that Presented her with those amorous Lines, I daily observ'd in her hands; she answered me, I was too inquisitive, and pro­testing that she could not impart the Secret to me, without rendring her self unworthy of my esteem, she always tyrannically treats me with a scornful reserve, Yesterday, when I came to inform the Company, what I had learnt from the mouths of the Musicians themselves, she cast her eyes upon Junia: when presently with their wanton smiles they began a Dialogue betwixt each other, in a language none could interpret but themselves: I perceiv'd they made a rallery of my error, and understood by some broken words they whisper'd to each other, that that Musical Consort included a Mystery, we were ignorant of. I am doubt­less betray'd; Roselina is inconstant; but oh! I know not upon whom to fix the suspition of her infidelity. I see no person in this Island, who de­serves the character of my Rival. Tisienus is an ambitious Reserve, whose proceedings pretend to no conformity with the effects of Love. Horten­sius is a declar'd Enemy to that Passion. Ovid, [Page 56] whom I should fear more than all the World be­sides, has been embarkt but two days in this our Society. All others who inhabit this wild Soli­tude, are either employed in concerns of another nature, or else not worthy to have any with Ro­selina; yet in the mean time there is some person, or other within it, whom she affects. I have a Rival, but cannot find him; and the more trouble I give my self to discover him, the more conceall'd he remains from me.

Ovid, with a great deal of delight gave ear to the complaints of Lentulus, he doubted not, but that he himself was the secret cause of this alte­ration of Roselina, and tickling his imagination with the pleasing fancy of being made the Confi­dent of his Rival, there was no kind of malitious question, wherewith, as with a picquant sauce, he did not endeavor to season the Banquet, which for­tune, as he thought, had prepar'd to regale his wanton palate. But, said he to Lentulus, do not suffer your self to be abus d by a groundless nice­ty. Roselina is perhaps the same person here, as Herennia was amongst the Getes: It is nothing, but a caprice of jealousie, which presents her now to your thought in another shape. Oh! cry'd Len­tulus, I am neither jealous, nor capricious; I en­joy'd so sweet a satisfaction in the thoughts of being lov'd by Herennia, that if my heart had cause to fear a surprize, it would have been from too great a confidence, not a groundless jealousie, of the affections of the divine Roselina. I have an in­clination to suffer my self to be deceived, and was willing that she should put the cheat upon me; but the ingrateful One will not afford me the pity to be cheated by her. I met her yesterday coming [Page 57] forth of an artificial Wilderness, which is in this Island, and which doubtless (said he, looking up­on Ovid) you have not yet had the time to visits she held some Papers in her hand, wherein I saw her read something; I askt her what it was: she might, if she had pleased, have answered, that it was a trifle not worth my perusal; for the least syllable she could have pronounc'd, might have challeng'd an absolute authority over my Soul, and I never found my self more dispos'd, than at that time, to give credit to what she said: but she told me laughing, that it was a Mistery of Love, which she could not then explain to me; and leaving me suddenly, she gave me cause to apprehend, that she had some affairs in hand, which were to be pre­ferr'd before the obligation of giving me satisfa­ction. Have you not perceiv'd heretofore, said Ovid, that her levity has been guilty of any extra­vagant or chimerical Passion? History informs us, that a certain Lady became enamour'd of Alexan­der, only upon the fame and reputation of his great Actions, and sacrific'd the life of her Husband to this frenzie. Men of this age are fram'd of the same Ingredients which compos'd those of the former; and the imbecilities as well of the one Sex, as the other, which were practis'd in the time of Alexander, may descend to the Reign of Augustus. Herennia has a solid Judgment, reply'd Lentulus, and a Soul above those Chimera's: which she rarely applies to the cultivating of her Beauty, that care she casts aside amongst the most unre­garded pieces of her curiosity; and the ordinary affectations of other women, attract her contempt, not esteem: And though I am sensible that she once affected me with a Passion full of ardor and [Page 58] sincerity, yet my most passionate endeavors were never able to debauch it to the least degree of levity, or weakness. A Soul of this temper is scarce susceptible of the impressions of an irregu­lar imagination. But, added he, checking himself suddenly, your discourse recalls to my memory, that some days since, speaking of the extravagant effects of Love, she maintained it might take birth in a heart, and be inflam'd of an object it ne­ver saw; and that she could alledge an example of what she asserted: And may not she be that ex­ample her self? Oh! ye gods, Can it be possible, that a heart of such proof against the attacks of Tiberius, should suffer it self to be seduc'd by the flatteries of a Rhiming Sophister? The arrival of Tisienus, prevented Ovid from proceeding farther in his malitious design: there had been no great cor­respondence betwixt him and Tisienus, whilst they were in Rome; but people of the same Country willingly consort together, when they meet in a strange Climate. Tisienus had not been inform'd of the cause of Ovid's disgrace, but by the relati­on of persons of bad intelligence: he thought that the too eminent favor of Terentia had drawn it upon him; and whereas Mecoenas had discovered the Conspiracy of Marcus Lepidus, in which Tisienus was involv'd, he had no good thoughts for that worthy Favorite. He would seem in a Satyrical Note to deplore his misfortune, in having so unfaithful a Wife; Must Caesar have Partners, said he, in the Empire of Love? It is glorious for a Subject to share stakes in any thing, with his Sovereign; but for Crassus, for Ovid, and perhaps for some body else too; when a heart has made the first step upon the course of [Page 59] this gallantry, it seldom stops in so fair a road. To speak the truth, this is to put the Philosophy of Mecoenas to too severe a Test; I wonder that a Man of so powerful a credit, does not cause a new Tribunal to be erected, for the Trial of the bold Usurpers of Matrimonial Rights. This rail­lery was very pleasant in the mouth of Tisienus: Ovid was so much taken with it, that he could not suffer it to pass without a repartee. Husbands, said he, whose Merits, might claim oftentimes chaster Wives, than Heaven has join'd them to, owe grand obligations to you, for the charita­ble complaints, you make of their misfortunes. A person ought to be assur'd of the virtue of his own Wife, who so freely glosses upon another; and if you were not convinc'd of the fidelity of Sulpicia, you would not so liberally attack that of Te­rentia. I must confess, reply'd Tisienus, that I am out of the reach of out of those forked Darts my self, which I level at the Brows of others; for Sulpicia, thanks to the heavens, is endued with a Virtue, im­pregnable to all attempts; but though I were my self in the same predicament with Mecoenas, I could not forbear to rally at the adventure of so eminent a Politician. That grand Statesman, whose vigilance, like the Monoculus of the World, at one view comprises the Empire of the Universe, who with a perspicacious and faithful inspection, pene­trates into the secrets of Hearts; and discovers Con­spiracies against Coesar, before they are in Rerum Naturâ, is insensible of those which are daily pro­jected against himself: he sleeps in a high securi­ty, when he ought to awake for the defence of his own Honor; and wakes with an indefatigable acti­vity, to terminate the affairs of Illiria. That is, [Page 60] reply'd Hortensius, because he is convinc'd, that a man should wake in vain, to divert a woman, from what she is resolv'd to do. The care and vigi­lance Mecoenas dedicates to the Illirian War, may perhaps be crown'd with a glorious success; but had he as many Spies, as Argus Eyes, he could not prevent the fortune his Wife threatned him with when she had once designed it in her pleasing ima­gination. I am not convinc'd with what you say, reply'd Tisienus, the care of a Husband contributes much to the prudent conduct of a Wife: when he carries a vigilant eye over his Family; confines the exorbitant desires of a young person within the bounds of moderation; obliges her to be at home at good hours; weans her with prudence and sweetness from such company, as may corrupt her innocence: By this means a man may dissolve the Gordian Knot of all ill habits; and placing only before the eyes of her curiosity a Mirror of good example, preserve her frailty from the dan­ger of all dishonorable condescensions and lap­ses.

Behold, said Ovid, with a grave look, the fair documents Tisienus has us'd to make his fair Wife so great a Tygress as she is. I thought that she had ow'd her virtue to the excellence of her tem­per; but now I perceive by the Maxims Tisienus delivers us, that she derives it from another source; and doubtless she would not be what she is, had she not had a person of such excellent Principles to her Husband. Hortensius was scarce able to con­tain himself from bursting forth into an open laugh­ter at this reply of Ovid; and fearing he should not be able to be the Master of himself, if the Converse continued any longer, he made a pro­position [Page 61] to them, to go and take a walk in a plea­sant Garden he had lately made. The Isle of Tha­lassia was not so populous, as many others, where­with the Egean Sea is enricht: yet it was not wholly destitute of necessaries for the support of humane life. The neighborhood of Lesbos did fur­nish it with all sorts of skilful Artificers, and Hor­tensius, had employed them, to charm the tedious hours of his Exile: his house, though Country­built, was uniform and regular, and many arti­ficial Walks, form'd with an elaborate curisioty, which encompassed it, seemed to correct the na­tural wildeness of the situation.

Whilst Hortensius was entertaining the three Ro­mans with the Beauty of his little Thalassian Villa; Roselina, who naturally affected company, being dissatisfied with their long absence, made a propo­sal to her fair Companions to go and surprize them, where they were. Junia expressed a coyness at the motion, for fear it might blemish her mo­desty. But Roselina calling her a formal imper­tinent, and telling her she would take upon her self the boldness of the Visit, took the Daugh­ter of Lepidus in one hand, and Adiamante in the other, and drew them after her towards Hortensius his Garden. He was then busie in showing his friends some rare Simples, which an Arab, who past by Thalassia, had made him a present of. These Plants grew within a private square; and the Ser­vants of Hortensius, who went to advertise their Master of the Ladies arrival, forgot to look there for him: they hastily run over all the Walks ex­amined each corner of a Grove of Fir-trees, where­in they all center'd; and believing that Hortensius was gone out at another door, which open'd towards [Page 62] the Lake, they came and gave this imaginary in­formation to the three Ladies; they were not much concerned at it, for they had found an employ­ment, to divertise themselves in the place, where they were; which was the Room where Ovid was lodged: he had forgot to shut a little Cabi­net, which stood upon the Table; and their cu­riosity invited them, to take an Inventory of what was in it: The first thing they laid their hands upon, was a Picture of Julia, wherein she was Pourtrated under the Figure of Venus. A little Love god was presenting a great number of Hearts to her; and the Goddess was weaving Chains with the Tresses of her Hair, to captive them; some Links whereof, which seem'd by their color to be bor­row'd from that fair Venus, serv'd instead of a Ribon, to hang a rich Carkanet of Hearts at, which were set within a sparkling Case of Carbuncles; round the Borders whereof, a glorious Devise was engraven. Many Letters of different Characters were in the same Drawer with this Picture, Ro­selina open'd one, and read it. ‘When I could not comprehend, how there could be a division in your Adorations and your Desires, I was ignorant of the intention of those unusual Sacrifices: I thought you had only offer'd to my sincere Passion a slight one of roving Thoughts, which like wandring Pilgrims, made every Saint the object of their devotion, and wherein each common Goddess, might claim a share as well as Sulpicia; which fluttering a­broad into every place upon the wings of Le­vity, or Complaisance, are rather Antidotes against Love, than a sovereign Cordial for it. [Page 63] But I must now confess, I have committed an inju­stice both against your transports & my own charms. Offer up your adorations daily to the Princess; charm her with your tender and delicate discourses; dedicate the raptures of your Muse to her Shrine, and still make love to Sulpicia, in the manner you have begun; I shall not impeach the division you make in your addresses, of infidelity; for I have so firm an assurance of your integrity, that I persuade my self Julia will have the greatest cause to complain of it.’

See here an incomparable Epistle, said Roselina, bursting forth into a loud laughter, to entertain a La­dy, whose Stars should destine her to love Ovid. I have some Verses here too, cry'd Junia, which will not be improper for the entertainment you speak of: Roselina cast her eyes upon them, and found the following Stanza.

I do not understand the Latine Tongue so well, said Adiamante, to explicate word by word the Verses, which are fall'n to my share; but interpre­ting them, according to what I am capable to comprehend of the sense, I judge them to be a counter-charm against those you have already read; Junia received them from the hands of Adiamante, and found them thus exprest.

This is an admirable piece of Courtship of Ovid to our Sex, said Roselina, when Junia had read out the Verses, to impute all his own crimes to us, and not to be satisfi'd only to betray us, unless he likewise render'd us guilty of his own treasons. Is not this kind of injustice, reply'd Junia, common to all men? They love by fancy, and change through levity. When they have made us the subject of their inconstancy, and perceive that our just in­dignation looks with a scornful eye of a regard­less insensibility upon their treacheries, they presently [Page 65] slander it with the title of levity, or infidelity; and seem to accuse us for plucking some laurels from their triumphs, when we gain so glorious a conquest over our selves, as not to deplore our misfortunes. And as if it were too little for us to be despis'd, to inhance their vanity, the Ingrates envy us even the slight satisfaction of concealing from the Publick, the effects of their inhumanity. It cannot be de­ny'd, said Roselina, casting up her eyes to Heaven, that this wicked kind of creature, Man, is an enemy to our repose; but such as they are, we have a natu­ral inclination, to wish them better, than they de­serve. Experience has many Ages labor'd in vain to infuse wisdom into us; the Examples of so ma­ny Women trepan'd, proves no caution to us, not to expose our weakness to the like danger; and he that should bring us all to our Affidavits, would find, that we had rather run the hazard, of being deceiv'd ten times over in our lives, than to be debar'd from the converse of those Infidels. Whil'st Junia and Ro­selina were discoursing, Adiamante was busie in ex­amining all the Avenues of the Cabinet: she found there Verses of different measures, and characters; and an Elegy, which she laid aside, because she could not understand it; she also encounter'd with a noted Song, and amongst all this, some fragments of that famous piece, intituled, The Goddess of Hearts, which Ovid mention'd in his own History. Roseli­na's eye was upon Adiamante, when she open'd the Papers, and taking that, out of her hand, wherein those fragments were contain'd, she found, it began in this manner. [Page 66]

Go on, said Junia, seeing Roselina make a stop at that place: so excellent a beginning, inflames me with an impatience to hear the conclusion. The con­clusion shall be what you please, reply'd Roselina smiling, the Author has allow'd you the liberty of adding what conclusion, you think fitting, to it. Ju­nia would not be convinc'd, but by her own eyes, of what her companion told her, and taking the Paper from her, with some difficulty pick'd out the follow­ing Verses, disorderly scatter'd, betwixt the raz'd, and blotted lines.

Junia could collect but these few Verses out of her blur'd and scribled Papers, when they heard a noise in the Hall near them, which made them judge, that the Romans were return'd from their Walk: They hastily plac'd all things again in the same order, as they had found them, in the Cabinet; and all ad­vancing together to meet Hortensius, and his Friends, Roselina briskly tax'd them for the little respect they had shewn, in leaving them all that day to them­selves. Their company was diminish'd by the re­treat of the no less jealous, than amorous Lentulus, whose absence was not displeasing to Ovid. He spoke to the Ladies a thousand delicate and ingenious things upon the Prerogatives of Necessity. If the Daughter of Lepidus, said he, were now in Rome in that splendor and lustre, wherewith the Empire of the Universe beheld not long ago her glorious Fami­ly invested, and that Roselina and her fair Cozen were now with their beauty illustrating another part of the World, which, we are not ignorant, paid not long since a due homage to their glorious Merit, the Exiles of the Thalassian Island, would not be regard­ed, as capable to afford them any diversion; Junia's would be, to see her Father distribute Crowns; and provide Governors for the third part of the Uni­verse: And Roselina would take delight, to see her [Page 68] Charms captivate the heart of one of the greatest Princes of the World. I know not what Roselina thinks of what you say, reply'd Junia, but as to my self, the satisfaction of enjoying the company of the famous Ovid, seems to merit a preference before all those splendid diversions, wherewith you would flat­ter my vanity. I never had yet any experience, what pleasure the dignity of Lepidus could afford me; I came not into the World, till after he had made his retreat out of it; nor was I ever acquaint­ed with the ancient splendor of our Family, but by the loud report the World gives of it. But with what regard soever I consider the lustre of it, there's nothing in it, that offers it self to my Ambition, which I should not be ready to sacrifice to the satisfa­ction, I find in your converse.

Oh! Madam, said Ovid, now I perceive my com­pany is not so agreeable to you, as you declare; if it were, you would not be so prodigal in scattering those flowers upon me, which with their flatteries have sealed up my lips; I dare no longer regard you, no longer discourse you; the too meritorious expressions, you have pronounc'd in my favor, have involv'd me in a confusion, which must render me a Mute for ever in your presence. I will be her A­voucher, reply'd Roselina interrupting him, that no expression of hers, has scatter'd a flattery upon you; and that the desire to see you, has not of late usurp'd the last place in her ambition; and I can testifie, that one of the chiefest regrets; which invaded her, at the fall of her illustrious house, took its birth from the impossibility she conceiv'd, of ever seeing the re­nowned Ovid, but at the Court of Caesar. Ovid was surpriz'd at this testimony of Roselina; he re­membred, that he had heard almost the same words, [Page 69] at the private Colloquy, he had not long before been a stolen witness to; but he attributed them to the daughter of Herennius, though they might as well suit with that of Lepidus. They were both of Roman extraction; both had cause to deplore the ruine of a Noble Family, and both might have had an opportunity of seeing Ovid in Rome, had not the fatal destiny of their Parents expell'd them, and all their glories out of the remotest Territories of its Dominions.

What you relate, Madam, said he to Roselina does not surprize me with its Novelty; a certain Fami­liar Genius, which alwayes prompts me with intel­ligence relating to my destiny, inform'd me not ma­ny dayes since, that a beautiful Person did honor me with some good will, who never saw me, but did with impatience desire to see me; and testify'd a re­gret, very consonant to those, you have express'd: But if my officious inteligencer has given me a faith­ful account, this good effect of my Stars does not make its point towards Junia. The Familiar you speak of, reply'd Junia smiling, has had his Memo­ry charg'd with such variety of Historical Remarks, since he came to your service, that it is no wonder, if he has confounded the circumstances of some of them. Princesses, Lady-Favorites, Senators daugh­ters, Courtezans, and Rural Beauties, have had the honor (and often too) in their turns, to be the objects of your gallantry. How can the little Ge­nius then, who Registers all your happy Adventures, keep an exact account, think you, in a Mass of such confusions? Whil'st Ovid and the Ladies were di­verting themselves with such like gallantries, Hor­tensius was giving Orders to his Family for the en­tertainment of his Noble Guests, who did his little [Page 70] Villa so much honor; and Tisienus was busie in per­using some of Homer's Odes, which he found upon the Table. Out curious Searchers of Ovid's Cabi­net, had replac'd what they had taken out of it, and shut it again with so much haste and confusion, that one of the Papers, which they had read, was left sticking half in, half out, betwixt the shutters. Ti­sienus, by accident, cast his eye upon it, and without being perceiv'd by the company, drew it quite out. It was folded up like a Letter, and Tisienus knew the Cabinet belong'd to Ovid, as having seen it at his first landing in the hand of one of his Slaves. He ima­gin'd, it was a Letter from Terentia, but it had no superscription; which is the most usual way of wri­ting a Billet Doux. Tisienus thought he had en­countred now a fair occasion of exercising those re­sentments, he had long fomented against Mecoenas. He hastily pocketed the Paper, with a resolution to examine it in private; and had scarce dispos'd of it out of sight, when Hortensius came into the room; he had prepar'd a Collation, as noble, as either the straitness of the place or the time could allow, which he had order'd to be serv'd up in a Gallery, adjoin­ing to Ovid's chamber, whither he invited the La­dies.

This Gallery was adorn'd with many excellent pieces, which represented the memorable Gests of the most Renowned Grecian Heroes; you might there behold the triumph of Ʋlysses over Ajax, up­on the dispute of Achilles's Arms. That exultancy of joy, which attends a triumphant success, was live­ly express'd in the haughty meen of Ʋlysses; Ajax, on the contrary, bore all the marks of a furious de­spair, which wildly stared out at the wide casements of his rowling eyes. His cheeks were swol'n big [Page 71] with rage, his brows [...] clouded, as it were, with a sullen Mist, his eyes sparkling, and unfetled: and at a distant prospect in the same table, you might see him spend his revengeful fury upon a poor tame sheep; whose innocence the ingenious Pencil had so lively express'd, that you would have thought, you had heard her in a mournful accent implore your succor, whil'st the butcherly Ajax tearing her bowels out of her body, did barbarously revenge upon this guilt­less Animal, an outrage, it had never committed. Consider, I pray, these illustrious Heroes said Ovid, whom Antiquity has commended to us, for no less than illustrious Deitles. The refusal of a dead Mans Arms, an adverse success of a combat, a slight check of fortune, a small contradiction, depriv'd them at once both of judgment and sense; and made them convert the points of their Swords upon their own breasts; which they should have turn'd upon their Enemies. I must confess, that the titles of Divini­ty, were pure has'd good cheap in those dayes; and that the Demi-gods in the Fable were very happy, they enter'd the World before us; for few of them, I suppose, would have receiv'd from us the honors, our Forefathers so liberally entail'd upon them. See here a Man, said Tisienus, pointing to the Picture of Cymon, who, in what Age soever he had liv'd, would have attracted to himself the admiration of it. His bravery, his magnificence, and his virtue, was the wonder of all the precedent. And do you seriously believe, said Ovid, interrupting him in an ironical tone, that this virtue, this bravery, this mag­nificence, was such in effect, as Histories report it. Those, who chronicled the actions of these Heroes, were their own Countreymen; and the glory of their Countrey, was inseparably annex'd to that of [Page 72] the Heroe, they would blazon; And the relation of their Jests was rather, an exercise of wit and elo­quence, than a sincere and faithful Narration. But if we would take a clear prospect of things, let us con­sider, what Greece was; it was divided into 10 or 12 Monarchies, and 5 or 6 Republicks. The taking of a Town had amongst them the reputation of the conquest of a Kingdom; And a Man that was so brave, as to march half a score Miles, to invade the Territory of his Neighbor; and by surprize, or force, sack'd a small Hamlet or Village, had present­ly the honor of a triumph and title of Conqueror, given him. The same Hyperboles did often like­wise elevate their virtue to that admired height, you speak of. Epuminondus was impeach'd before the Senate of Thebes, for giving the Government of Myoenas, contrary to the express commands of the Republick, to young Calist benes his Favorite; and yet he was esteem'd a Person of the greatest virtue amongst the Grecians. The Spartan Laws, which purchas'd such a reputation to Lycurgus, contain more Precepts, relating to the ease and convenience of humane life, than the Libertines of Rome did ever practise. The chiefest care of the Spartans, was to make their Republick populous; and if a feeble and decrepid husband found himself overmatch'd in a young and sprightly wife, he was oblig'd to provide a brisk Gallant for her, and own all the children of so excellent a commerce for legitimate, and of his own blood. You make us new Laws for Sparta, cry'd Tisienus, this pernicious Maxim, was never yet esta­blish'd in any civiliz'd Nation. What I have told you, reply'd Ovid, with a serious countenance, is a real truth; and the only inducement for me to be­lieve, that the first Lacedemonians might with some [Page 73] justice pretend to the title of the most wise and ju­dicious Nation of the World. The Collation was brought in just as Ovid had pronounc'd these last words. If you will take my Advice, said Horten­sius, as he was placing the Ladies, let us hearken no longer to this eloquent Sophister, he will impose a new sense upon the best establish'd Laws; and I know not whether he will not find out a way, ere it belong, by his subtle chymistry, to extract the prin­ciple of a secret Passion, out of the indifferency, I profess. Ovid reserv'd till another time, the liberty of making an Answer to his Friend; and seating himself next to Roselina, he apply'd himself, during the repast, to take his measures from the regards of that fair one, and Junia, to discover, which of the two, was the Person, that had those conceal'd incli­nations for him.

THE HISTORY OF Hortensius.

THE Mother of the great Julius, whose Neece Aurelia is, and whose Name she bears, was descended, as without doubt you have heard, of the Race of the Hortensiuses. This Alliance did allow me a familiarity with Aurelia from my infancy: And whereas this familiarity has been censur'd by some, to have been the Mother of that Antipathy, which the World judges is ingrafted in my nature a­gainst the person of Aurelia, it has on the contrary prov'd the ground of a most immoveable and a most violent passion. I may presume to publish it, with­out the fear of a displeasure. Aurelia exprest a ten­der respect, and confidence towards me; and I as­sur'd my self, that her Relations would embrace my honorable Suit; but my Love was of no vulgar stamp, and character: It ambition'd to bind the heart of Aurelia to its faithful services, and her own choice, rather than to the Laws of her Duty. My ready obedience did attend each nod of her head, each motion of her person; which I disguis'd, un­der [Page 83] the notion of a respect and diligence, our Al­liance might challenge from me; but which were really services, that claim'd a near Alliance to Love. I found they were understood in their right sense by Aurelia; And believing, that the happy Moment to second them was arriv'd, I went to seek her with that intention; when at my entrance into Lucul­lus's Garden, where I heard she was, I found some Tablets drop'd, which I knew belong'd to her: I open'd them with that impatient curiosity, which every one has for the concerns of the person, they love, where I found these Verses:

These Verses rais'd a tempest in my thoughts, though I knew no cause for it. Aurelia command­ed as great a liberty, as she pleas'd; her Mother had been dead a long time, and she was under the tuiti­on of an Aunt, a person of a sweet disposition, who had an entire confidence in the virtue of her Niece. By this her manner of living, Aurelia attracted to her all the youthful Gallantry of the Court; but I could not perceive, that any of those, who visited her, did by any particular services endeavor to ob­lige her esteem. She was neither of that rank, nor merit, to create an indifferency in the object of her desires; in fine, I could see no cause to make an ap­plication [Page 84] of those Verses to Aurelia: yet notwith­standing they charg'd my thoughts with an unusual trouble and perplexity, I sought her company, to dissipate it; and having in vain made a diligent in­quest in every place, where I hop'd to find it, I was guided, at length, by my roving thoughts, into that part of the Cypress Grove, which borders upon the Labyrinth of Myrtles. I was scarce enter'd two or three paces into one of the Walks, when I thought I heard the voice of Aurelia from an Arbor not far distant from me; I gave a diligent attention: for there is no Lover, who would not be desirous to rob his Mistriss of a secret, if he could do it so, as the Theft might not be discover'd.

Those, who attribute such an unlimited power to Virtue, said Aurelia to another person, are as ig­norant of the effects of that, as of Love. Virtue is capable to give a bridle to our passions, but not stifle them in their birth; it has forc'd me to dissemble those sentiments, I caress for my Ingrate, but it can­not effect, that this Ingrate should not be the most amiable of all Men; that my eyes should not think him so, and that maugre his indifferency, he should not be the only person in the Universe, which I am destin'd to love. Oh! ye Gods, what shape of rage and jealousie did not this discourse transform me in­to? I thought my life would have expir'd betwixt them; but bridling the effects of both, that I might live to gain a perfect knowledge of all the circum­stances of my Misfortune, I heard a person, whom, by the sound of her voice, I conjectur'd to be Hel­vidia, Mecoenas's Niece, make this Answer: Is it possible that a person of so much reason and discre­tion, should suffer herself to be charm'd by the eye? Cepion is a person, I must confess, of a good presence [Page 85] and meen, but the superficial parts of a Man, shall never ensnare my heart; if I must surrender my liberty, it should be to a noble passion, and to the languishing sighs and vows of a no less noble Lover, and not to his good looks, or modish postures. Were he Master of all the beauties and charms, which Painters with their luxuriant Pencils have bestow'd upon Adonis; if he were not passionate, humble, and faithful, I should regard those other exterior var­nishes, no more than that of a beautiful Picture; and all, which that artificial Magick should be able to charm from the sense of my tenderest affectation, would be at most but a favorable look, or smile. And what I have hitherto indulg'd to the charms of Ce­pion, reply'd Aurelia, has been no more: And so much they are able to command from all, that see him. I thought to have allow'd him no more, than what the most indifferent might grant him; but I perceiv'd, that the Idea's, which enter'd at the casements of my eyes, did insensibly penetrate into the cabinet of my heart. I oftentimes imagin'd I saw the figure of Cepion a long time present before my eyes, after they had lost the noble Object: He was all day the business of my thoughts, all night the labor of my fancy. I suffer'd these slight Preludi­um's to gather strength, by reposing an over­confidence in those Maxims, you just now deliver'd: for how could I suspect, my heart should be guilty of such a folly, as to have a Passion for a Man, that had none for me? I believ'd with you, that a woman endu'd with common sense, could never be capable of yielding up her Reason to the Attacks of the Sen­ses: But yet I did so; and though I perceiv'd by what Arts they betray'd me, yet I found it was not in my power to resist the effects of their Treason. [Page 86] Oh! just Heavens! cry'd I out aloud, is it possible that this should be Aurelia, who speaks what I hear, and that Hortensius should be so unfortunate to hear, what she speaks? This Exclamation of mine, cau­sed them to come suddenly forth of the Arbor, where they were. I leave you to judge, what a look Au­relia darted at me, when she saw her secret was discover'd: Too curious, and ill-advised Hortensius, said she, with an inflamed countenance, thou hast, against my consent, stolen from me the confession of a weakness, which I would have conceal'd from the whole World: But, if thy looks do not deceive me, I shall find a means to chastise thy indiscretion. I command thee never to set foot more within my Apartment, and I shall take such caution to avoid thy Encounter in places indifferent, that thou shalt not often have the pleasure to upbraid my blusher with the imbecility of my Actions. Having said this, she flung away from me, and left me in a con­fusion, I am not able to express. I had scarce re­cover'd the first Fit of this Extasie, when I saw Ce­pion approach me; we were very familiar, he came often to visit Aurelia, and it was my custom to spend six or seven hours every day in her company. What makes Hortensius in this solitary place and posture, said he to me? Is he musing upon his Amorous Ad­ventures? Does he solace his thoughts with the pleasure of some fortunate Encounter? Or put them into Mourning, for the loss of his Mistriss? I believe Cepion had no other intention in his Railery, than to make it the Subject of a youthful discourse; and that he knew not, how near it lanc'd me to the quick; but presuming to fix such an interpretation upon his words, as I borrow'd from the circumstance of what had lately happen'd, it becomes you well, [Page 87] Cepion, said I, to insult thus over my Misfortunes; hug your self with that fancy: But, perhaps, you may be defective in some Article of your conceited felicity, if thinking to rob me of the heart of Aure­lia, you shall not long enjoy the satisfaction of glo­rying in my disgrace! I? cry'd Cepion, I rob you of the heart of Aurelia? No, said I, in a rage, you do not rob me of it; for she bestows it as a free gift up­on you, and this is a conquest too inglorious to boast of.

The conquest, reply'd Cepion something coldly, would be too glorious for Cepion; and I must avow, that Aurelia is capable to charm the whole World: but yet avouch too, that the heart of Cepion is unca­pable to receive the impression, which the Merit of Aurelia, has power to dilate through the Universe. The charms of that incomparable beauty, would re­quire a heart, pregnant with fidelity and constancy; desires, which can acknowledge no other Deity, but herself, for their object, and many other perfections of an accomplish'd Lover, which my Genius was never endu'd with: when I love, I love only for my self; and the Passion, I entertain for Ladies, may be more properly call'd a youthful diversion, than a real Love.

I am not so credulous, said I, interrupting him, to take for granted, what you affirm. You act a subtle part, under the disguise of the indifferent one, whi­lest I am assur'd, that Aurelia complains of your in­gratitude; and that the excess of her love, or jealou­sie, presents you to her eyes in the shape of that un­grateful one she accuses: But it is not possible you should be so, towards a person of her Merit, and that you should not love her, that loves you. You sur­prize me with Wonder, said Cepion smiling, to see [Page 88] you take so much pains to persuade me I love Aure­lia, which you ought to take to dissuade me from the thoughts of it, if I had so much presumption, as to entertain any to that effect. This remark of his, began a little to recall me to my self; I was sen­sible, that I was guilty of an Act of high impru­dence, in endeavoring thus to convince my Rival of his good fortune. I suddenly pretended business with young Paulus Aemilius, who cross'd the end of the Walk, we were in; and being much dissatisfi'd with my Mistriss, Cepion, and my self, I hastily reti­red home to my house.

Though I ever regarded with an eye of scorn and contempt the servile homage, the greatest part of your Courtiers, pay to the Favorites of Princes, yet I would not do the glory of the great Agrippa that in­justice, as to rank those offices, the Court of Au­gustus render'd him, in the same form. I saw that his virtue purchas'd him his favor; and I endevor'd, by all the services I was capable of, to convince him, that I had a most real and candid esteem for his Merits; and I am assur'd, he held me in the number of his most particular Friends; he gave me a signal testimony of it, at that time, I mention: which you are not a stranger to, though perhaps, you may be, to the circumstances. A deep Melancholy had seiz'd me, caus'd by the unprosperous success of my amo­rous designs, and converted all the gaiety of my hu­mor into a sullen chagrin, when one day I was ad­vertis'd, the Emperor commanded my presence; I yielded a ready obedience to his commands. As soon as he saw me, he led me into his Closet; and after he had extoll'd the Nobility of my Extraction, and the Merit of many illustrious Heroes, it had present­ed to the Empire; I consider, said he, that Fortune [Page 89] treats you, as she uses to treat persons of higher Virtue; she belies you to be so rich in your own, that the thinks she should offer you an affront, to make you a Present of any of her favors. I see many Families in Rome, which ought to acknow­ledge an inferiosity to yours; whose Wealth or prosperous Suits, have elevated them to the high­est Dignities. I will not suffer this injustice to in­sult longer over you. The Praetor, who held the Government of Egypt, is lately dead, which I confer upon you, with the Praetorship for the first year. I cast my self at the feet of Caesar, to ren­der him thanks for a grace so unexpected, and less merited by me. Hold, said Caesar, this is not the sole one, Intend you; Princes are accountable to none but the gods, for their Actions; though we see the best and the greatest stand in need of the suffrages and affections of the meanest of their Subjects to support their Soveraignty. There is not one of all my Followers, who can aspire with more justice than your self to the employ I de­sign you; but there are few amongst them who will do my judgment that right as to assent to it; for every one is apt to think, that what is not be­stowed upon himself, is detracted from his me­rit.

But I will remove this stumbling Block out of their way, by colouring the Present, I shall make you, with the title of Alliance. Aurelia is Niece to the Mother of the Great Julius, my Father; and an obligation lies upon me, to make a provision for her establishment; wherefore I bestow her up­on you in Marriage; render your thanks for both these favors to Agrippa; for he is the person who [Page 90] has reviv'd in my memory the character of the brave Race of the Hortensiuses.

Consider with your self, I beseech you, as well the trouble, as surprize, this Proposal of Caesar brought to my already distracted thoughts: If he had declared it but three or four days before, he had render'd me the most fortunate person of the Universe: I passionately lov'd Aurelia; and this passion was the first impression that Love ever stampt upon my heart. I was ready to make my acknowledgements to the Emperor, and offer up at his feet all the thanks so unexampled a Grace could challenge from me: but a second conside­ration represented to my confused thoughts the violence I should impose upon Aurelia, if being wholly pre-ingaged in the favor of my Rival, I should be an envious Instrument in compelling her to receive me for her Husband. This imaginati­on rais'd a civil war in my breast; I could not re­solve to owe a Concern of so pretious a value, to any other Orders, than those of Love. I told the Emperor, that I could not tell with what re­sentment Aurelia wou'd receive the honor, his bounty was pleas'd to confer upon me; that I was sensi­ble of its just estimate; and that I should be pro­digal both of my services, and my bloud, to ren­der my self worthy of it; but withal, that if with the Government of Egypt he should offer me the moity of his Empire, I should refuse it, rather than hazard to force the inclinations of a Lady allied to the Bloud of Caesar.

The Emperor commended as well my discre­tion, as modesty; and telling me he would take upon himself the charge of obtaining Aure­lia's consent to what he desired, he left me, and [Page 91] went towards the Empresses Apartment. As I was coming out of Caesar's Closet, I met Cepion at the door; and well, said he to me, drawing me aside to a window, Are you yet of the opinion, that I am your Rival? Know it is I, who this day surrenders the possession of Aurelia into your hands. I waited last night upon Agrippa in his Chamber, when he declar'd to divers persons there present, the glorious fortune the Emperor had design'd you: I privately inform'd him of the condition, Caesar was oblig'd to add to the rest of his favors, if he intended to compleat your felicity: And is this a service consistent with the designs of a Man, that had an intention to rob you of the heart of your Mistress? All that you have done, answered I, and all that Caesar is able to do, cannot assure me, but that you are yet my Rival: That assurance is on­ly lodged in the heart of Aurelia; and it is from thence, that I must draw it; But since I shall not be capable to obtain her, without committing a Rape upon her inclination, she shall remain the Mistress of Cepion for ever, and Hortensius shall never be her Husband: you express a great weakness, replyed Cepion, in harbouring thus an imagination, that Au­relia has that kindness for me, which I could ne­ver yet perceive the least symptom of; and where­of I do not desire a clearer evidence: for were it true, that she should honor me with some good wishes, a necessity would enforce me to requite them with an ingrateful insensibility: but though I glory in the expression, I do not desire to pur­chase amongst Women, the Title of Cruel, or In­grate. Repeal this fanatical opinion, I conjure you, and believe, that there is no person in the Court of Augustus, who shall make you a more [Page 92] sincere Congratulation upon your glorious Marriage, than that you shall receive from Cepion.

A great Concourse of my friends, who came pay their Congratulations to me, upon the report of those honors, Caesar had heapt upon me, inter­rupted our longer Converse. He assur'd himself of the obedience of Aurelia, and discoursed pub­lickly of our Marriage before the Empress, and the Charge he had annext to it, as of a thing firmly ratified and concluded. I leave you to judge what a distraction I was in, when I was forced on all sides to receive the Compliments of Mars and Hy­men: I was sensible of an obstacle that intercepted the way to my felicity, which none of them had a jealousie of; which caused me to receive them with that coldness, which drew admiration from all that knew me whilst every one by way of a serious kind of raillery, told me, I was not as sen­sible as I ought to be, of the Blessings Heaven had showred upon me. I was expos'd to this perse­cution all the rest of the day; and as I walkt forth in the evening, to disengage my self from so ma­ny troublesome Visitants, I met one of Aurelia's Slaves, who came from her Lady to tell me, that she had some business with me, and desir'd my company. I had never seen her since the day she had forbidden me her house. I ran to present my self unto her with that confusion and haste, as your fancy will easily comprehend. You have done this morning, said she to me, as I approacht her, an act of the highest generosity, that ever man could yet boast of: I am acquainted with all the circumstances of so glorious an action; It is not sufficient to say a man loves, to convince the World that he does so; Effects are more expressive [Page 93] than Words, and I do not doubt but that you have a real passion for me; yet notwithstanding you have rejected the offers of Caesar; taken into your compassionate consideration my pre-ingagements; and renouncing the title another would have gi­ven you over my Heart, sacrific'd your most pas­sionate desires to a generous despair, for fear of imposing a violence upon my inclinations: Ha! Hortensius, what ought not my gratitude to enter­prise, to compensate thy generosity? I could quar­rel with my Stars for your sake, in being so un­kind to give me such fatal inclinations. Lend me your assistance to conquer them; redeem my heart out of the power of that Ingrate, who de­tains it prisoner against my consent; you have a spacious field granted you, to draw up all your forces in, to attack his unworthiness; compel my Soul to do that through gratitude, which through the influence of my unfortunate Stars it is not capa­ble to do by inclination.

After divers expressions to this effect, which I an­swer'd by submissive regards, and deep sighs more sensibly than by words; we agreed, that to in­dulge me time to induce her to that, which her goodness was then pleased to stile her duty, I should make it my request to Agrippa, to supplicate Caesar to allow me a short space to consider the Propo­sals, he had made me. Agrippa was surpriz'd when he heard me; You do not seriously reflect upon what you say, reply'd Agrippa: the Govern­ment of Egypt is the most considerable that Cae­sar has in his power to dispose of; it is ambition'd by the most illustrious Pretenders about the Court; and although the apprehensions of seeing it de­volv'd into other hands should not oblige you to [Page 94] press the Emperor to the execution of his promise, yet the possession of Aurelia, should methinks, excite you to prosecute all advantages, with a most restless impatience. The possession of Aurelia, my Lord, said I, would not be the same to me, which per­haps it might be to another. I must be excused if I declare no more to you at present; but with­out examining, whether I have reason on my side or no, I humbly beg in the name of that friend­ship you are pleased to honor me with, that you would endeavor to retard for a while the effects of Caesar's generosity towards me. Agrippa might with ease, satisfie my request; for news came that same day, that the Praetor, who commanded in Egypt, was not dead; that he was past hopes of recovery, and that his distemper was accompanied with sym­tomes, which were judged to be mortal, but that he was yet alive.

I had now as much time, as Aurelia could hope for, to accomplish the cure, she desir'd me to un­dertake. I left no stone unmov'd to effect a work of such importance; and Cepion seem'd to second me with his faithful endeavors. He utter'd things in the presence of Aurelia, which touch me some­times with real resentments against his ingratitude. I thank Heaven, said he, one day, discoursing up­on the subject of the deaths of Antony and Cleo­patra, that I was not born to be commended to Posterity for one of those memorable examples: I am incapable of that honor; and what would be a glorious fortune another, would prove to me the greatest of misfortune. The Ladies are so fully convinc'd of this truth in me, that they think it not worth their pains to level their Darts at so impenetrable a Mark, as my Heart; and I am much [Page 95] oblig'd to them for their discretion; for if any one of them should either out of inclination, or any other motive, testifie the least good will for me, I should fly her company, as one would fly the en­counter of his greatest Enemy.

These discourses did oftentimes produce their effect: The Curtain is drawn from before my Eyes, said Aurelia to me, Cepion is not so worthy of my affection, as his flattering appearances would falsly persuade me. I must aver, for the credit of my own judgment, that there are few men in the World, in whom the exteriour Characters shine with a nobler lustre than in his; but do you ob­serve the pride and audacity, which usurps a pre­rogative over all his other qualifications. He has such a respect for himself, as begets in him a con­tempt and dis-respect of all others. He looks as if he conceited no person but himself were wor­thy of his own esteem. This self-love from his per­son, passes to his Spirit and Wit; he is enamour'd of his own opinions; and esteems it a point of honor to enter the Lists, and sustain them against Opponents; our Sex is not thought worthy to have the liberty of offering an argument in its own defence; the least condescension in favor of it, he accounts a blemish to his high erudition, and thinks he should wound his repu­tation, to admit a Woman to enterprise her ver­dict in any of his disputes. Ha! generous Hor­tensius, did I owe you no other acknowledgements than for the cure you have effected upon those con­tagious errors, wherewith that arrogant person had infected my judgment, I should die deeply in your debt. Madam, said I, the best expedient to compleat the cure you mention, is to proscribe that [Page 96] Ingrate both from your thoughts and lips; I be­lieve you do not name him, but to accuse his mis­carriages; yet this is always to entertain him in your thoughts; and what pretence soever it be, that revokes him to your memory, ought to be sus­pected to have a tincture of love in it. That tincture, thanks to the gods, said Aurelia, my Soul is now free from, and I blush to think it should ever have received so ignoble an impression. I was enchanted without doubt, and the Passion I had for a man who requited it with so little respect, or complaisance, could not be but the effect of a magical operation.

Aurelia was not long fixt to this opinion; one obliging expression, one civil regard of Cepion, would re-entangle her again as fast as ever in the snares of her old Amour. Sometimes she would com­mend the noble part of his person: sometimes the color and elegancy of his hair; when any one discourses before her of any features or charms, which were remarkable in the face of another, and had a resemblace of those in Cepion's; those graces, would she say to me, with a sigh, can pretend in no other person in the World to those advantages, they find in my Ingrate. Did you ever see a blew eye sparkle like his? Nature has mixt in his com­plexion all her richest colors. The whiteness of his teeth, makes Ivory it self look pale for envy; his mouth, though large, includes in its circumference a thousand charms; and his meen breaths I know not what; so gentile and noble, that it commands both respect and admiration, from all that behold him.

This levity and constancy of humor, did more than half distract me; I resolv'd a thousand times [Page 97] to make a private retreat out of Rome, and fly so far from the noise of misfortunes, that I should never hear more the names of Cepion and Aurelia. But at length my perseverance seem'd to attract upon my sufferings some compassion from Heaven; Aurelia solemnly protested to me, that she perceiv'd the hour was near at hand, wherein her distem­per should receive a perfect cure; and all her actions avoucht her expressions. She could see Cepion with­out changing color; she testifyed no regard of any thing, he affected to say to her. She scarce took notice he was in any place, where she was. I be­lieve this alteration in Aurelia produc'd the same effect in the Soul of my Rival, as the like might do in the thoughts of most men; I observ'd that he followed Aurelia with more assiduity and ardor than before; he was always whispering some little secret in her ear, and I oftentimes discover'd them making to each other private signs of intelligence. This new intrigue involv'd me in a new perplex­ity, and I could not conceal it from Aurelia. You do my sincerity an injury, said she to me; I have ingenuously confess'd to you all the errors of my weakness; which you ought to believe I have long since repeal'd, since you have my solemn prote­station for it; Indulge a peace to your troubled thoughts; Cepion shall never be the object of my love, his triumphs have seen their most glorious days. Why then, Madam, said I, are there so many visible marks daily given of a secret com­bination, to alarm my jealousie? That which alarms your suspition, reply'd Aurelia, ought to assure you of my integrity; the hatred of that, which once one tenderly affected, is a kind of de­struction, which wears the Vizard Mask of a kind­ness. [Page 98] I will not suffer one spark of that fire to harbor it self any longer in my heart; and Cepion is now grown indifferent to me, to that degree, that I shall always place him in the first rank of my Friends, and the last of my Lovers.

This kind of indifferency did not at all relish to the palate of my Love; I conjur'd Aurelia to confine her disingagements within the beaten tract of others; and not expose her self to those dangerous precipices, to the brink whereof her nice distinctions must necessarily reduce her. She spoke many passionate things to me, which in ap­pearance ought to have convinc'd my jealousie; but they could not calm it: I observ'd daily the familiar carriage of her, and my Rival; but too much for my repose. As I was coming one night out of Paulus Aemilius his house, when I had Supt, (which is seated, as you know, in a place of lit­tle Concourse) and crossing a passage, which leads from the Garden down to the River Tyber, I dis­cover'd by the Moon-shine, the glimps of a per­son, which seem'd to me to wear the Liverty of Au­relia. I stopt to see how he would dispose of him­self; when presently I saw him go directy to a Man, who about thirty paces from thence, stood waiting among some Trees; they went both of them together from that place, and directed their course towards a private door, which open'd in­to Mecoenas his Gardens, and there went in. I had a curiosity to be inform'd of their defign, which caused me to follow them. I had scarce got into one of the Allies, which first offer'd it self to my silent steps, when I thought I heard Cepion's Voice from the other side of a Quickset­hedge, next to me.

Did'st thou take good notice of the place where thou did'st leave her? said he, Yes, my Lord, re­ply'd another man; she waits for you in the Ar­bor, at the end of the great Terrass, which is co­vered over with those yellow Flowers which came out of Spain. My dear Boy, said Cepion, what rewards do I not owe thy zeal and fidelity? be­sides thy freedom, which I am assur'd I can beg of Aurelia, I have nothing in the World that I think a recompence equal to this service, thou hast done me.

Cepion kept walking on, as he talkt, and I kept at an even distance with him; but stopt a little before I came to the end of the Walk, for fear of meeting him; I saw him cross over a green square, and perceived distinctly from the place where I stood, that it was the same person, I had seen before amongst the trees, and that the Slave that followed him, belong'd to Aurelia.

I am able to convince the World, that never man yet died of grief or jealousie, since I sur­viv'd that fatal sight. Shaking and trembling I crept along under the shelter of a Pomegranate­hedge, that border'd one side of the Terrass, which my Rival ascended; and stealing softly round the Arbor the Slave had describ'd, I apply'd my ear to that part of it, which was thickest shaded, with the over-hanging leaves and curling flowers. Dis­pence with me, my dear Ovid, from relating to you what I then heard, I am distracted with rage and jealousie, as often as I think upon this abhorr'd encounter. I was resolv'd to interrupt the feli­city of this too happy Rival, and had in my fury washt away the stains of the affront, he offer'd my love, with his Blood; but my Sword being en­tangled [Page 100] in some of the boughs, forced me to make some noise to disengage it; which struck a sud­den terror into the fortunate Lovers. The Lady committed her hasty flight to the dark shades; and Cepion leaping off from the Terrass into the Walk under it, conveyed himself away with such speed, that it was impossible for me to retrieve him amongst those intricate Meanders. My greedy eye made a strict search after my unfaithful one, to charge her treachery with my just reproaches; but all I could recover of her was a glimps at a great distance, as she ran into the house, with her Slave at her heels. I went to the door to wait for her coming forth, with a resolution to impeach her of her Treason; but she returned not that night to her own Lodg­ings; and I was inform'd by her Coachman, who drove home her Chariot, that she intended to lodge with Heluidia.

You are a Master in the Art of Love, my dear Ovid, and do doubtless comprehend, what the most significant expressions, would be too dull a Pencil to depaint to you. I past the whole night in measuring the length of my Chamber over and over with my large paces; and next morning Agrippa did me the honor to give me a visit. I know not what more, said he, approaching me, to alledge to Caesar, for the farther retardment of his Commands. Our Praetor is now infallibly dead; and last night Aurelia advertis'd the Em­peror by Terentia, that his designs and commands in your favor, were entirely conformable to her own desires. Do you tell me, my Lord, said I, inter­terrupting his discourse, that Aurelia has assur'd the Emperor, she gives her free consent to our Marriage? Yes certainly, said Agrippa; and does [Page 101] likewise press the accomplishment of it with all the earnestness, her modesty can dispence with. I am much oblig'd to her, answered I, for so ge­nerous a complaisance; but she may honor some other with it, if she pleases; for Aurelia shall ne­ver be the Wife of Hortensius. You are not, I fear, in your right understanding, reply'd Agrippa, asto­nisht at my repartee, What can you desire in a a Woman, which you cannot find in Aurelia? She is full of Youth, Beauty, Wit, and allied to Coesar, who presents her to you with his own hand, and for a Portion, the most eminent Charge in the whole Empire. The Emperor may Portion her with the whole Empire it self, if he pleases, said I, but Hortensius shall never share any part in his Boun­ty.

Heavens! What can I alledge in your justifica­tion, reply'd Agrippa, when the Emperor shall just­ly resent this unexampled contempt of his most gracious favors? I will tell him, said I, that I am resolv'd never to marry; that I have a natu­ral antipathy against the Sex; and that nothing ought to be more free to a Man than the resigna­tion of his liberty. You ought to have declared so much before, said Agrippa, displeas'd with my discourse, and not to expose a Cosin-German of the Great Julius to the publick scandal of an open repulse. This manner of proceeding is not capa­ble of any excuse; your friends will all disown your interests, if you do not speedily return to your self; and do that with a ready complaisance, which you cannot refuse to do, without drawing upon your self, together with an inevitable ruin, the indignation of an incensed Emperor. I was furnish'd, but with too many and too convincing [Page 102] reasons, which I might have offered in my own defence, but a too just respect for that ingrateful one; for whom I ever had, and still retain an ho­nourable Passion, hindred me from publishing her infamy. She thought perhaps to put this consi­deration to the extremity of the Test; or whether it were that she imagin'd it was not in my pow­er to withdraw it, from the object, it had been so long setled upon, or that being really ignorant of the true cause of my resentments, she was de­sirous to clap a specious Mask over the visage of her foul fac'd Intrigue, she counterfeited a most extreme grief, for the repulse, I had given her solemn declarations. She sent me Letters, to con­fute that Capricio of mine, as she term'd it, sugar'd over with expressions, as would certainly have se­duc'd me, had it been possible for artifice to have done it. I was transported beyond all patience at this last testimony of her treachery; and I think I should scarce have commanded the impetuosity of my rage, had I had an opportunity to have vent­ed it; but Caesar, discovering nothing in my pro­ceedings, but what bore the character of Arro­gance and Ingratitude, sent a party of his Guards to me, with a Commission to Convoy me out of Italy, and an express command likewise to forbid me to return, till he was pleas'd to recal me.

You are now acquainted with the secret of that Adventure, which with so much injustice, has fixt upon me the title of Indifferent. But, my dear O­vid, see the capriciousness of my destiny: the Image of Aurelia is scarce yet defac'd out of my Soul; rage and contempt ought to have banisht it out of all her dominion, the very instant I discover'd her Treasons; but a heart condemned by heaven to a [Page 103] rigorous fate of constancy, is deaf to all admoni­tions, and insensible of all advantages, which are offered for its disingagement. I must avouch, to the shame of my judgment, that I am not yet possest with a due resentment of Aureliaes ingrati­tude; I conserve neither a Love, nor an esteem for her; but that despight, which now usurps the place of both, is a greater Tyrant to my repose, than those ever were: And could you imagine what object malitious fortune should now present to this despight? Cepion, that very Cepion, who is the Author of all my misfortunes, and from whom I have deriv'd so many fatal injuries, is at this hour in the Isle of Thalassia.

You tell me a wonder, said Ovid, What design has invited him to visit this inhumane Climate? I know not, reply'd Hortensius, but he landed ye­sterday in the evening; and lodged last night at Lentulus his quarters; I fancy'd I saw Cepion afar off walking with him, as I return'd from waiting upon Ladies to their Lodgings; but the little probabili­ty of such a truth lessening the credit of my eyes at such a distance, I could allow none to so strange a Vision. Whereupon I sent one of my Servants to be inform'd of the reality of it, who affirms that which my eyes did make a doubt of; Cepion is in this Island, and I must either be forc'd to endure the sight of a person I hate above all the World, or desert a Solitude, which I begin to take delight in, and have expended too much cost and time in cultivating it, to leave it without a sensible re­gret.

As Hortensius was speaking this, he espy'd Len­tulus at the other end of the Galery, and with him his Rival, whose sight he so much abhorred. Hor­tensius [Page 104] could not Master the first motions of his horror; he ow'd a respect to the place, which something reflected upon the person, who was in his own house; and never did man more religi­ously maintain the Laws of hospitality, or the de­voirs of civility; but at this time, being incapa­ble of observing either, he hastily rush'd into O­vid's Chamber, and shut the door after him. Len­tulus had a particular kindness for Cepion, from whom he had received an important advice, which nearly concern'd his safety; & this sole motive had brought him into Thalassia. Lentulus was toucht to the Soul, to see in what manner he was treated by Hortensius, What frenzie has invaded your friend? said he to Ovid: Is he subject to these distempers? Or is it our fight, that has brought them upon him?

Cepion is able to resolve your doubt, reply'd Ovid, smiling upon Lentulus: he of the three is the per­son, whom this proceeding, I presume, does least surprise. I swear to you, said Cepion, I am no less surpriz'd at it, than either of you can be. Hor­tensius has been formerly of an opinion, that a cer­tain person exprest too great a kindness for me in a circumstance he was not capable to digest: I thought I had not omitted any thing to unde­ceive him of his error: But he has since testified so scornful a contempt for the Lady, who was the subject of that contest, that though he thought himself not oblig'd to credit my proceedings, yet his own mutability in deserting his Mistress, ought to have dissipated those clouds of jealousie, which hung so long over his head. You relate to us no­thing but false appearances, said Ovid; he that would satisfie his credulity with them, would con­clude [Page 105] Hortensius were in a fault; you could not prevent any persons having a kindness for you; you did not endeavor to improve that kindness; nay you contributed all that lay in your power to extinguish it. But Cepion, but the Moon-light Ad­venture in the Garden of Mecoenas; the Assigna­tion in the Arbor at the end of the Great Terrass, pray tell us, does it deserve in your opinion the thanks, or embraces of Hortensius? Cepion stood mute for a while at this reproach of Ovid; then suddenly lifting up his hands and eyes to Heaven; Oh! ye just gods, cry'd he out, What is this, I hear? How? said he, fixing his eyes intentively upon Ovid; Is Hortensius acquainted with the En­counter of the Grand Terrass? So well, reply'd Ovid, that he was even an ear-witness to it. It was he who made that noise, and gave you the Alarm, that forc'd you to leap over the Terrass; and it was that assurance of your felicity, which caus'd him to judge it would not be any discretion in him, to disturb it, by marrying the person, who was proposed to him.

With that Cepion walkt towards the door, where­at he had seen Hortensius enter. Grant me the li­berty, I beseech you, said he, to confute the most unjust opinion that ever suspition yet harbor'd in her jealous Brain. Aurelia's virtue is unblemisht with the crimes with which you charge it; she affects you most passionately; and supports all your re­proaches with a goodness, that merits your high­est adorations.

Ovid wisely imagin'd that Hortensius would be desirous to convince Cepion of an error, or be con­vinc'd by him of his own; and judging that Len­tulus would be a sufficient Umpire in the case, he [Page 106] silently stole from them, and slipt undiscover'd out at the door, which descends into the Garden. He was scarce out of the house when a young Slave, who waited on Roselina, came from his Mistress to enquire for him. Lentulus spy'd the Boy, at the entrance of a door, which Hortensius his Servants had open'd. to look into the Room for Ovid. He run to him, to ask him his business. I have brought a Note from Roselina, said the Slave, to a Roman, who lodges here. Give it me, said Lentulus, and I will deliver it to Ovid. The Boy knowing that Lentulus was a particular friend of his Mistress, made no difficulty to give him the Ticket he brought. Lentulus walkt a little aside, that the Slave might not see him open it, and with an earnest curiosity casting his eyes upon it, he found these expressi­ons. ‘Your Thalassian Mistress is resolved to grant you the private interview, you beg'd of her. Fail not to render your self this night at the same Wilderness where you writ the Verses, you know of; all things shall be so disposed, that you shall enjoy your desired satisfaction without disturbance.’

Herennia did not declare her self in the Billet to be the Lover, it spoke of; but jealousie would not suffer Lentulus to doubt it could be any other. He saw her, as she came out of the Wilderness, which the Ticket made mention of; and found her reading something, which he judg'd to be the Verses, it specifi'd; and she her self had told him, that what she was reading, did treat of a Love-intrigue.

He is now fully convinc'd, that Herennia is not only unfaithful, but that Ovid too is the secret Ri­val, [Page 107] he seeks after. Whereupon he resolves to ren­der himself at the appointed Rendezvous, instead of the new Lover; and after he had returned an answer to the Slave, by one of Hortensius's Ser­vants, That Ovid would not fail to obey the or­ders which were sent him, he went forth in a fu­rious rage, and left Cepion and Aureliaes Lover the liberty to entertain each other without Witnesses, or constraint. The amorous Ovid had nothing less in his thoughts, than what was projecting against him. He was ignorant of the Rape, Tisienus had committed upon the Letter of Sulpicia; he knew not what a Monster was hatching in the jealous breast of Lentulus, and thinking upon nothing but the charms of Roselina, and the pleasant Intrigue he was like to be embarkt in, he sacrific'd to this Di­vinity all his designs and adorations. He found not his fair Goddess at her own Temple, and was told by her Servants, that she was gone forth to take the Air in the Wood, which border'd upon: the shoar. He run thither with all the speed, the Wings of his desires could carry him, that he might not loose the opportunity of Lentulus his absence. He searcht all the beaten tracts, nor left he those unvisited, which were least frequented, but could not retrieve the fair Game: He hunted back again upon the foil; and despairing at last to gain a view of it, he was ready to return to Roselinaes Lodg­ings, to see whether she were to come back thi­ther, or no; when several loud cries gave his asto­nish'd ears the alarm from the neighboring shoar. He run with a precipitate haste to the place, from whence he thought those cries were sent; where he saw a young Lady of exquisite Beauty, strug­ling by violence to disengage her self from a man [Page 108] in whose Arms she was detained an unwilling pri­soner; who, having perforce gain'd her liberty, came running to Ovid for succor: he interpos'd himself immediately betwixt the Lady, and the man that pursu'd her, and catching him by the Arm; What­ever you are, said he to him, who offer this un­manly violence to this young Lady; you have made choice of an ill place to execute your foul designs in. This Island is inhabited by many noble He­roes, who have an entire veneration for this fair Sex; and will all sacrifice their lives at their feet, before any one of them should suffer the least in­jury

The unknown employ'd no other language than a profound sigh, to return an answer to Ovid's discourse, and sinking down upon the Sands, gave cause to the Roman to judge, both by the paleness of his countenance, and the tracts of blood, which in divers places distain'd his cloaths, that he had received some dangerous wound. Whereupon Ovid chang'd his design from the opposing, to the re­lieving a person in so ill a condition. He ran to­wards the Sea for some Water to refresh him; when a little farther he discover'd two men more, engag'd in a mortal Combat, whereof one, before he could come to them, fell dead at the feet of the other. He that remain'd victorious, appear'd so charming to the eyes of Ovid, that he consider'd him as something more than Mortal. He retired a pace or two backwards, and surveying him with admiration, he was going to express the wonder of his thoughts in the best of his language; but the fierce unknown would not allow him the time; and not so much as vouchsafing him a look, rude­ly lanc'd himself forth in the pursuit of the fair [Page 109] Fugitive. Ovid thought himself not oblig'd to in­terrupt his pious intent, to follow a Man of so little civility; wherefore he continued on his course towards the Sea; where he found a Shallop anchor­ed on the shoar, and in her a Man, who seem'd to be her Pilot. Ovid askt him, if he could not furnish him out of some of his Casks with a little fresh Water, to relieve a person, who lay gasping for breath, at the entrance of the next Wood. The Mariner gave him to understand by signs, that he was both deaf and dumb; but by a quick ghess comprehended his demands, drew a little Bottle out of his Pocket, fill'd it with water, and fol­low'd him to the place, Ovid had endeavor'd by signs likewise to describe to him. They both employ'd their utmost skill to recall the Soul back again of the breathless Youth; which was fled from its ancient Harbor; but what Ovid at first thought only to be a swooning Fit, prov'd in the end, a real Death.

The Mute made a horrid kind of bellowing and confused noise at the sight of so dismal an object. Ovid pointed to the place likewise, where the o­ther dead Man lay, and leaving him to exercise his charity about their Corps, was resolv'd to gain some clearer evidence of so strange an Encounter: and pursuing the tract, he had seen the unknown Lady take, he discover'd her in the great Road, which past thorough the mid'st of the Wood; and the strange Youth, whose excellent Meen had surpri­sed him so much before, upon his knees at her feet; who by the signs, he saw him express at a distance, seem'd to be an earnest Suiter to her for her stay: But she seem'd neither to be mov'd with his Charms, nor his Intreaties, and angrily fling­ing [Page 110] out of his Arms, kept on her way upon the Road she was in. Ovid by a cross cut gain'd the advantage of her speed, and overtook her, just as her weariness forc'd her to fit down upon the ground, to ease her delicate limbs. Forbear, sweet Stranger, said he to her, to afflict your self in this manner; you are here in a Sanctuary of safety; and you shall find in this Island four or five Ro­mans, who will as freely lay down their lives, if an honorable occasion shall call upon them, in your defence, as in their own; I am very much oblig'd to your generosity, reply'd the Lady, in a kind of cor­rupt Latin; I have no more Enemies, whose vio­lence I fear; and though the persecution I now sustain, invirons my Soul with greater horror, than that the Heavens have so lately deliver'd me from, yet I do not think that it will compel me to have recourse to the famous Arms of the Ro­mans. No, Divine Agaritha, (said the beautiful Youth following the Lady at a distance, who fled from him) you need employ no other Arms, than your inflamed eyes, to destroy the unfortunate Heren­nius. Ovid fixed his eyes intentively upon him, when he heard him pronounce the name of Heren­nius; are you, said he, the Son of Herennius, who followed Sertorius into Spain, at the time of Sylla's tyranny? Yes, Sir, reply'd the Youth, I am the same, you mention. Do you know Lentulus, said Ovid, who commanded the Roman Forces in the last Expedition against the Getes? I have great rea­son to know the person, you name, answered He­rennius, since he may challenge not the least share in the first misfortunes of my life. You are arriv'd in a place, where you have more friends perhaps, than you imagine, reply'd Ovid; give me leave to [Page 111] be your Guide to a House not far distant from hence, where I shall present you with a view of some persons, whose sight, I suppose, may requite the pains you shall take in going to them. He reque­sted the fair Stranger, to give them the favor of her company too; which she granted, Ovid lent her his hand to raise her from her humble Seat, and to conduct her likewise towards the house of Hor­tensius: The brave Herennius offered to take her by the other hand; but she rudely thrusting him aside, How dar'st thou approach me Traitor? said she; aspire no more to the honor of touching that hand, which I have given thee but too often for my repose, and thy glory. Is it possible, Agaritha, reply'd Herennius, that so many humble Petitions for a Pardon offer'd up, so many Tears shed at your feet, so many times my Life hazarded in your service, and this day especially against your most mortal Enemies, should not have the power to de­face out of your thoughts, the memory of a weak­ness, so often expiated by an unfeined repentance? Is it a Crime unpardonable in a person of my age, to give ear or credit to the flattering discour­ses of the first Princess of the Universe; which to have entertained with scorn, would certainly have been judg'd an unpardonable rudeness in me? I believ'd (though too soon) you were dead: and my submission to the Charms of a Princess, who subjugates to her Laws all Hearts, that dare approach her, cannot properly be term'd an inconstancy, but, in the worst sence; a too hasty oblivion only of your Death. Go perfidious wretch, said the enraged fair One, interrupting him, excuse not thy levity in the opinion of my death; the solemn protestati­ons of thy Love, and the memory of thy infinite mis­fortunes [Page 112] fortunes that treacherous Love has involv'd me in, ought to have induc'd thee to examine strictly each particular of a report, which ought so near­ly to have concern'd thee. But thou wert pleased doubt of my life, because it opposed an obstacle to thy new Amours: thou did'st fear my reproaches would have alarm'd thee, from which my death would have secur'd thee; and thou did'st flatter thy self with the pleasing thoughts of that, which thy in­constancy persuaded thee to hope for. The name of the first Princess of the Universe, had raised a Contest betwixt a paleness and a blush in Ovid's Face; he thought no person had any right to that Title, but the Daughter of Augustus. He was about to ask Herennius, who that Princess was, he spoke of; but the fear of rendring his curiosity too re­markable, caus'd him to defer it to a fitter oppor­tunity. Whil'st Ovid was framing a thousand con­ceits to himself in his suspitious fancy upon the Words of Herennius, and the young Lover by an ingenious confession and submission excusing his er­ror to his incensed and irreconcileable Mistress; Hortensius received from the Mouth of Cepion the Relation of a Mistery, which after the turbu­lent agitation of so long a storm, brought a gentle calm to his thoughts.

THE RELATION OF Cepion.

YOU made a right judgment, said Cepion to Hortensius, my insensibility was nothing but a dext'rous faint; but this faint had not for its ob­ject, the person, you ascrib'd to it. I have lov'd Helvidia since the first hour, my Soul was capable of an impression of love; and I got a particular friend of mine to sound the intentions of Mecoenas concern­ing the disposal of his Neece, whose beauty began to eclipse the lustre of the resplendent Terentia, who much desir'd to see her cloyster'd up in a Convent of Vestals.

Helvidia is not design'd for Marriage, (reply'd Mecoenas to my friend, who, without naming me, endevor'd to gain a clear intelligence of his resolves) and whosoever shall go about to inspire her with contrary sentiments, shall not at all oblige me. Your resolution surprizes me, said my friend, I see all other persons, whom their Princes favor has plac'd in an eminent Orb, aspire to contract themselves al­liances, whil'st is in its Zenith, to support their in­terest [Page 114] in the World, if it should happen to decline. My Maxims are opposite to those of ordinary Favo­rites, reply'd Mecoenas, I am not ambitious to receive for the full benefit of Caesar's favor towards me, the pleasure only of flattering my self with the fancy of it: A Roman, who perhaps on terms of equality would esteem himself honor'd by my alliance, will think he offers a glorious Sacrifice to my favor, in demanding my Neece of me. I will not charge my honor with so scrupulous a vanity, and that I may not render my self suspected of an ambition or fore­cast, whereof my soul is uncapable, I would remove from the Court, or inclose within the grates of a vestal Cloyster, all such young Ladies as shall be un­der my protection.

This Declaration produc'd, in the heart of Hel­vidia, those effects in my favor, which many years services might have despair'd of meriting: It mu­tiny'd, and thought it lawful to revolt against the ty­ranny which was impos'd upon its liberty; and as I am naturally bold, and ambitious of enterprizing difficulties, that which render'd Helvidia propitious to my desires, made them soar a pitch likewise above the highest flight of ordinary Lovers. Yet we judg'd it a part of discretion, to conceal our Amour under the securest disguise we could invent for it. Mecoe­nas's credit commanded a great power with the Emperor, and he might have suppress'd me by open force, had I attempted to justle it. We agreed, the better to delude the Argus-ey'd. World, to make Love, as I may say, by cross purposes: And then I began to affect that insensibility, wherewith a long time Aurelia herself was deceiv'd she was then a friend of Helvidia, but not her confident: And Hel­vidia was us'd to say, that the infallible way to pre­serve [Page 115] a secret from being betray'd, was alwayes to be the Mistriss of it herself: I saw her oftner at Aure­lia's apartment, than Mecoenas's; and this private disguise I put upon my visits, allow'd me the liberty to make them with more frequency and security. I was much indebted at that time to the generous pro­ceedings of Aurelia; she was ignorant of the cause that so often invited me to her Lodgings, and she is naturally of a sweet and affable disposition; but I perceiv'd, that this sweetness and this affability, in­sensibly gave place to their opposite qualities. Hel­vidia perceiv'd it, as well as I; and without seeming to take a particular notice of it, she ask'd her the cause. Can you ask me such a question, said Aure­lia? Have you eyes, and do not see, after what man­ner that young Insolent treats me? He seems to have made choice of me for a Subject, to exercise all his incivilities on; he disdains to give me his hand to lead me in publick; he opposes all I say, or do; and it is sufficient to cast him into a humor of contradi­ction, if I but open my mouth in any place, where he is. Helvidia gave me information of the com­plaints were fram'd against me; but though I could not allow them to be just, yet I began to carry my self with that respect towards Aurelia, as I was accustom'd to do, when she was best satisfi'd with my proceedings.

You must force your self, said Helvidia, in a cir­cumstance of this importance, to act a part contrary to your inclination. We must make use of the house of Aurelia, for the place of our interviews: affect a complaisance to all her desires, speak all the obliging things to her, a real Amour could dictate. Oh! Madam, said I, interrupting her, you do not well con­sider what you command me; it so ill becomes a [Page 116] person of honor to act the Lover, when he is no­thing less, that I know not how to express the disor­der of my thoughts to you; and you are sensible, that the same disorder in the thoughts of another, generally derives its source from the Motions of the heart; and all reasonable creatures, have not alwayes the reason to be the Masters of them. Helvidia laugh'd at my suspicions, and gave me a little check for the presumption I had of my own Merits. My Friend, said she, is too prudent to love first; and that which I interpreted a disorder in the heart, was only a point of nicety, which she conjur'd me to wave, and satisfie her request; I obey'd it, and en­deavor'd to make the will of Aurelia, the square of all my actions. I was diligent in paying all those little services to her commands, which can bear the construction of nothing but ordinary civilities to­wards a person, one has not a passion for; but do assume another character, when Love enters on the Theatre. I applauded all she said, I often took oc­casion to extoll her beauty. About this time the Emperor took a progress to Tusculum, and as Teren­tia was alwayes the glorious Planet, which was fix'd to the motion of the Court, Helvidia was oblig'd to attend her. I discontinu'd my usual visits to Aure­lia's apartment in its absence; but one evening ha­ving the honor to conduct some young Ladies, and Aurelia amongst them, to take the air on the plea­sant banks of Tyber, they began to reproach me with my pretended insensibility; and this railery was the subject of the greatest part of our conversation. I took great pleasure in acting the part of a faithful Lover, under the person of the indifferent; which seem'd to be a private sacrifice offer'd up to the shrine of my absent Mistriss; I perceiv'd that Au­relia [Page 117] did often change colour, and when I presented her my hand to conduct her to her chariot, she seem'd as if she had taken no notice of my civility, and so in a regardless manner refus'd me hers: But I judg'd it no policy to draw upon me the indigna­tion of more than Aurelia, at that time, for having unadvisedly declar'd before, that I suspected Aurelia had had a kindness for me, I had been revil'd by them, as a young Fellow puffed up with vanity and self-conceit; I durst not discover my thoughts, but endeavor'd to seem satisfi'd, that Aurelia had not really seen me, when I offer'd her my hand. The Emperor return'd to Rome the day after. Helvidia came to visit Aurelia, as soon as she was disingag'd from Terentia; she found her in her Bed, and her voice so alter'd, that she judg'd her to be dange­rously ill; which put her into such a fright, that she was scarce able to ask her, what her distemper was? The effect, said Aurelia, of the most malign influ­ence, that ever the Heavens produc'd. Ask me no more, for I will rather dye, than make a larger con­fession of my Misfortunes. How? my Dear, re­ply'd Helvidia, can Aurelia keep any secret from Helvidia? Can you offer so unkind an injury to our friendship?

I deal with our friendship, said Aurelia, as I wish I could deal with my self; would the Gods were pleas'd, that at the expence of my life, I could con­ceal that from my self, which I refuse to reveal to you; let it suffice, that I am the most unfortunate of Women. Helvidia could gain no other answer from her that day, but one or two after she conjur'd her with such vehemency to confide a secret to her, which so much perplex'd her thoughts, that Aurelia suffer'd her obstinacy to be conquer'd by it. You [Page 118] will doubtless accuse Helvidia of some injustice, see­ing with what earnestness she urg'd a freedom from Aurelia, which she refus'd to practise herself; but she had violent presumptions of the truth, and sup­posing them to be well grounded, they might autho­rize a small dissimulation. Aurelia drew some Tablets out of her Pocket, and having studied a lit­tle time to digest her conceit, she writ the Verses I shall here recite to you.

Cepion began to repeat the same Verses, which Hortensius had found before in the Gardens of Lu­cullus; but Hortensius interrupting him after two or three words, I am as well acquainted with those Verses, as your self, said he, and I think I have them still in my possession.

You have them not, said Cepion: Oh! would it had so pleas'd the Gods, that you had kept them. Helvidia had a strong presumption, that I was the Ingrate, those Verses decyphred; they gave a cha­racter of my person, such as it could not merit; but the esteem, wherewith the goodness of Aurelia was pleas'd to honor me, did doubtless render her too partial a Judge in my favor. She propos'd a thou­sand questions to Aurelia, to draw from her a clear confirmation of her suspicions. Aurelia's amorous distractions had reduc'd her to that critical minute, (so fam'd amongst Lovers) wherein the high swel­ling tyde of Passion, will not suffer the heart to keep any thing conceal'd within its centre. She made to her a sincere declaration of the Love she had for me, and in terms so passionate, that the heart of Helvidia was transfix'd with a tender compassion of her suf­ferings. She gave me an account of their converse the same day, in a Garden, where she was waiting upon the Empress, as she was taking the air, when I [Page 119] was so happy to receive her hand; and as nothing can compare with the sweetness of her nature, it is a great trouble to me, said she, to see this poor Lady in that condition you have reduc'd her to: what she has told me, even pierces my very Soul; and I conjure you, by that respect you protest you have for me, to afford some relief to the afflictions she labors under. How? Madam, said I, not a little surpriz'd and startled, at her expression, are you weary of my heart, and willing to turn it out of your service? Will you transfer to Aurelia, the title and right you have acquir'd over it? I have no such intention, re­ply'd Helvidia, your heart is, and ever shall be most precious to Helvidia; but if without infringing my right to that heart, you could by some small compli­ances flatter a little the passion of Aurelia, I assure you, you would lay a sensible obligation upon me. Ha! Madam, said I, disturb'd with the thoughts of such an obligation, I have express'd already but too much of that compliance, you would now again con­demn me to. If from the first Moment, I was sen­sible of the weakness of Aurelia, I had combated it with all my power, whil'st it was young, I had doubtless suppress'd it; but your commands com­pell'd me to caress, and suffer it to gather strength; the services, your orders enjoin'd me to render her, have given that encouragement to her distemper'd fancy, that she doubted not, as you know, to express it under her own hand. To violent diseases your Physicians are us'd to apply remedies of the same nature. I think, I understand Aurelia perfectly well; she has a heart susceptible of the tenderest im­pressions of an amorous Passion; she has courage, and firmity of resolution; and if once the first has taken a full possession of her Soul, it will be impossible to [Page 120] remove it; and therefore the best expedient would be, to pluck it up, and crush it, before it has taken too deep a root. Do not think upon so violent a course, said Helvidia; time will cure Aurelia's distem­per, without the help of so rough a Physitian. She has virtue; she understands, that from Caesar she must expect a husband; and I do not desire you, to flatter her Passion out of any doubt I have, that she will not be able to surmount it without your assist­ance; but because I apprehend, the visible marks of your neglect do inflame and exasperate the wound, she has unfortunately receiv'd. I would have you allow her virtue time to act according to its own di­ctates, and owe the conquest to its self. I objected many things more to Helvidia, to make her sensible of the danger, to which her compassion expos'd us, but all my remonstrances were to no effect: She car­ry'd me the next day to Aurelia, and charg'd me with greater apprehensions of her danger, than I had con­ceiv'd before; she made a sign to me with her eye, to maintain that in my discourse, which she thought convenient to advance in hers; and when she per­ceiv'd I was refractory to her commands, she testi­fy'd, by the sudden alteration of her countenance, a displeasure, which had almost congeal'd my blood within my veins; and like a sullen cloud, totally eclips'd the usual serenity of her smiling affability even to the very day, you had that long conference with the Emperor. You may judge by what I tell you to day, that I told you no untruth then, when I assur'd you, that I had employ'd my utmost endea­vors to invest you in the possession of Aurelia. I was so persecuted with the importune compassion of Hel­vidia, that I could have given any thing that was most dear to me in the world, besides herself, to have pur­chas'd [Page 121] a short truce from it. It was from the Mouth of Helvidia, that your Mistriss first under­stood that act of generosity your express'd in her fa­vor to the Emperor, Helvidia being then with Te­rentia, when Caesar reported it to her. Oh! cruel Gods! exclaim'd Aurelia, in a dolorous Note (when the Niece of Mecoen [...]s inform'd her of your proceed­ings) is it not enough to satiate the cruelty of my destiny, that I am forc'd to love that, I ought to hate; but that I must likewise be guilty of an inex­piable ingratitude towards that, I ought to love? Oh! cruel Hortensius, (went she on, with a torrent of tears flowing from her eyes) why art thou so unkind, to intrude such bitter resentments in amongst those insupportable afflictions, which al­ready overcharge me? These resentments may not be unprofitable, reply'd Helvidia, if you would but a little consult your reason, Hortensius is a person, in whom Merit and Love contend for the nobler title; and if the generous resignation, he has made of his own desires unto yours, has on his part pro­tected you from a husband, opposite to the inclina­tions of your own will, you will not be able to pro­tect your self long from one, whom anothers will shall impose upon them. Caesar is oblig'd to offer a husband to the Cousin German of the great Julius, and it is not probable, that he will cast his regards upon Cepion, to honor him with that alliance. The charges and dignities, which he will annex to the possession of your person, will require a Man of more experience to support their weight and lustre, than the Ingrate, you love, is capable of. Ought not the violence, you will be forc'd sooner or later to impose upon your inclinations, to seem less cruel to you on the part of a generous person, whose adorations you [Page 122] have often before receiv'd at your feet, than on that of some proud morose stranger, you never saw? Go on, my Dear, said, the languishing Aurelia to Helvi­dia, go on, and made me understand what I owe to the generosity of Hortensius: I with scorn entertain'd that Love, he has given me so many glorious proofs of; I forbid him my house, and in the height of all these ill treats he has receiv'd from me, he has re­fus'd to take a just revenge of my abuses: make me sensible what care and regard he had of my honor, when I had so little for it my self. He might have discover'd to the Emperor, the passion I had for his Rival; he knew it, and my carriage towards him, did not oblige him to conceal it, yet he never gave him the least intimation of it.

Ovid came in, as Cepion was in this part of his Re­lation; See, said he to Hortensius, presenting to him the two strangers, if I do not deserve the honor of being sent forth upon all expeditions for discoveries? Have you ever seen a nobler couple, than here I bring before you? Hortensius, with much impatience, de­fir'd to hear the end of Cepion's discourse, and Ovid had not oblig'd him, by coming to interrupt it: But as he was a person of the greatest civility in the world to strangers, and those which were presented to him being of that quality, as to attract his chiefest consideration, he receiv'd them with all the demon­strations of a courteous welcom. You observe, and doubtless not without admiration, said Ovid to Hor­tensius, addressing a Salute to the Brother of Roseli­na, that this young unknown is a Masculine Beauty in our Sex: you need but cast your eyes upon him, to confirm your remark; for the first fight of him was like to have made me turn Idolater, and offer incense to an unknown Deity. But your admiration [Page 123] will be greater, when I shall tell you, that it is not his person only which ought to render him thus worthy of your consideration; you behold in him that young Herennius, the apprehension of whose ig­nominy, caus'd the fair Herennia to attempt so auda­cious an enterprize. Cepion presently knew Heren­nius to be the same, whom Ovid spoke of, he gave him a thousand caresses; and the three Romans thought it convenient to send for Lentulus, to take his part in so fortunate an encounter. Hertensius order'd a Servant to go to him, and to inquire pri­vately likewise, if Roselina were at home. I shall be asham'd to look that great General in the face, said Herennius to Cepion; the manner whereby I reb'd him by my flight of a Prisoner, (whom the Laws of Mars had consign'd into his power, and his gene­rosity accumulated with his favors) carries with it the too just Marks of an ingratitude; which would inviron me with shame and confusion, did not the cause of my offence plead its own excuse. Behold there, Sir, said he, shewing him the fair stranger, be­hold the Motive, which summon'd me from your Camp, to give my attendance in another place; my first chains discharg'd me of your second; and I had a Master to whose commands my liberty was enga­ged, before the fortune of War had captivated it to yours. I must be forc'd to acknowledge before this company, said the Lady, interrupting him, that thou hast a great opinion of my discretion, or a very small one of thy own, since thou dost presume with such confidence to boast of the injuries I have receiv'd from thee. Thou hopest perhaps that the presence of these persons, whom I know all to be Romans, will impose a constraint upon my just resentments, but when they know their character, as well as thou [Page 124] dost, they will conclude them to be too full of equi­ty, to bear a Moderation. I will speak, I will utter all that a just despight can prompt to the Soul of a Lover unworthily betray'd; and violating the Laws of silence, as thou hast done those of honor and fidelity, I shall be more excusable, as a Grecian, in publishing to the World the shame of Caesar, than thou, as a Roman by extraction, in dishonoring the house of thy Emperor. These words were like so many fiery darts, that carry'd flames of jealousie and distraction into the breast of Ovid; his suspicions would indulge no quiet to his restless thoughts; I am better read in Love, than you, said he to Heren­nius, (who was ready to reply to the reproaches of the fair Greek;) you ought never to attempt to con­quer the rigor of your Mistriss by a contentious dis­pute, we must allow all Women in general the liberty of their smart Repartees, and to those, we love, a prerogative in that nature, above those, who are in­different to us. Give me leave to give some instru­ctions to the beauteous Agaritha, and do you second them by a respectful silence, which perhaps may prove a better Orator in your cause, than your tongue. In saying this, he took Agaritha's hand, and led her up to a Terrass, which afforded a pleasant prospect to the Sea, hoping by some curious questi­ons to gain from her a discovery of the subject of her indignation; but Herennius understanding from the two Romans, that the person who had made that discourse to him, was the famous Ovid, he foliow'd him up to the Terrass. You are a Judge too renown­ed in the case of Love-differences, said he to him, not to be fear'd by the guilty; and therefore I can­not give my consent, that my fair Enemy should pre­ingage you in favor of her cause; but if you must [Page 125] understand what the crimes are wherewith the char­ges, me, and whereof in effect I am partly charge­able, I had rather make an ingenuous confession of them my self, than suffer her to aggravate them in the recital. That which you are now going to make, said Ovid, is too criminal a secret, I fear, to find a favorable Judge. Sit you down upon that stony bench, (added he, in causing him to sit) and make a sincere confession to us of all your faults, and perhaps we may prove so fortunate Advocates for you to this fair one, as to obtain your pardon; and your story will be the most agreeable diversion, we can pass the time with, till the arrival of those per­sons, whose company we have sent to beg, to honor yours. Herennius would not give them the trouble of an important intreaty, and Hortensius thinking that his Relation would be soon interrupted by the coming of Lentulus, was satisfi'd to defer the sequel of Cepion's till a little longer time; the company be­ing all plac'd upon the Terrass, the charming Heren­nius began his discourse in this manner.

THE HISTORY OF Herennius and Agaritha.

THis illustrious Lady, said he, pointing to Aga­ritha, has honor'd the Isle of Lesbos with her birth, and is descended in a direct masculine Line from the first Princes of Greece. I learnt my exer­cises in the Capitol City of this Island, where the Father of Agaritha made his ordinary residence. I saw Agaritha, and as it is scarce possible to see her, and not love her, my youthful heart without resist­ance yielded up its liberty to the first of her regards. The Nobility of her descent borrows no support from the favors of Fortune, which has endow'd it but with small possessions, and this did facilitate the Suit I made to her Parents for their consent. Our Marriage was concluded, and my felicity was no lon­ger to be defer'd, than to the happy Minute, I should be able to make good what I had propos'd. I took one of Agaritha's chief Relations along with me to the Frontiers of the Getes, where the scatter'd relics of all that small wealth, the Misfortunes of our House had left me, was deposited. I fell sick in this journey, but as I had propos'd nothing, but what [Page 127] truth could attest for me, the Parents of Agaritha thought her so well bestow'd upon me, that they em­ploy'd all imaginable diligence to hasten the consum­mation of my felicity. The weakness my sickness had left upon me, would not permit me to return to Lesbos, as soon as the impatience of my love desir'd; whereupon the Grecian, I had in my company, seeing the will of the Gods themselves, had dispens'd with my duty in so fatal an occasion, conjur'd by my ar­dent intreaties, engag'd his faith to me, to re-instate me in the possession of my Mistriss: she had been solemnly betroth'd to me before; and I on my part renew'd to him all the most sacred assurances, I was in that circumstance capable to make. Upon this intelligence, my Mistriss did me the honor to leave Lesbos, to come to the place where the Malice of my distemper forc'd me to attend her. Her short Sea-Voyage was fortunate; I advanc'd, as well as I was able to meet her, and hop'd in a few dayes to join her; when I understood that a Party of the Roman Army had surpriz'd her, and carry'd her away Pri­soner amongst many others, on whom they impose the infamous title of Slaves. I leave you to judge, what a relapse this news reduc'd me to. I sent to the Captain of the Slaves, to petition him that Aga­ritha might be expos'd to ransom, and I would have redeem'd her at the expence of all that Fortune had left me in the world. But my Mistriss was a trea­sure above a ransom; she was design'd for the Em­peror, and a Convoy was ready to conduct her to Rome. This barbarous inhumanity heighten'd my former distemper to a perfect phrensie. I put my self in the head of some revolted Getes, and forget­ting I was of Roman blood, I atchiev'd such honor against the Army, Lentulus commanded, that I ren­der'd [Page 128] the name of Roselin, (which I assum'd, and was the name of my Uncle by my Mothers side, I both famous, and redoubted to the Romans. Love and Revenge inspiring me with courage, I out-bra­ved temerity itself. I attempted to set the Prisoners at liberty, they were hurrying away to Rome; in which audacious enterprize, I was taken my self, and design'd for one of those memorable Examples by which Lentulus hop'd to conquer the obstinacy of the rebellious Getes. You have heard by what means I was deliver'd from that danger; and how Lentu­lus, who is really endu'd with a brave Soul, vigo­rously embrac'd that opportunity, to reduce those Opiniatres by the principles of a generous Magna­nimity. He restor'd to me the name of my Ancest­ors, to extinguish that of a Gladiator out of my thoughts, which I was ready to be branded with. He offer'd me Employs in his Army; and if I had been only a Rebel, I might have been the inseparable com­panion of his fortune and glory; but I was a Lover, and resolv'd to sacrifice a thousand Lives, had I been Master of them, or free Agarithas from the igno­minious chains of her slavery. I durst not impart my design to Lentulus, who pretended a great re­spect for my sister; and I was afraid, that the kind­ness he express'd to me, would have caus'd him to have oppos'd a bar against my dangerous resoluti­ons. Whereupon I privately deluded the obliging care, Lentulus had of me, and stealing in disguise out of his Camp, sometimes committing my flight to Sea, sometimes to Land, according to the best con­veniences I could meet with for speedy travel, I at length arriv'd at the Suburbs of Rome, and had by my diligence prevented the slow Motions of the Slaves, who were not yet come; nor suffer'd to take [Page 129] long Journies, for fear of impairing their Beauty, and Complections, by the laborious toils of his dis­orderly Travel. The name of Herennius was not yet defac'd out of the memory of true Romans, and I had Relations in Italy, who I hop'd, would not disown their own Blood; I besides repos'd great confidence in the favor of Lentulus, if I should have occasion to make use of it; and above all, I assur'd my self of the Justice and Equity of Caesar. I entertain'd my self with these pleasing fancies all the way betwixt Tusculum and Rome, which was the Road, by which the Slaves were to make their triumphal Entry into the City; when I discover'd coming forth of the Suburbs thereof a rich and magnificent Chariot, with a proud Guard attend­ing it: I stopt to take a view of it, when a glo­rious young Lady, who was seated in it, putting her Head by accident out of the door, on the side that I was of, happen'd to cast her eye upon me from whence she did not remove it in a good space; and then expressing a gesture of admiration, I as­sure you, said she to another Lady, who was with her, that this is the original of my excellent Peice, I value so much. At thse words she commanded, the Chariot to stop, and making me a Sign to come to her, askt me who I was. I am a Roman, Ma­dam, said I, though fortune has made me and my Country long Strangers to each other. What pro­fession are you of? reply'd she. I ought to pro­fess the Honor of a Roman Knight, said I, but through some misfortunes, the recital whereof would require too long an Audience; my professi­on at present is that of a Knight really Errant, who fears he shall never arrive to a happy end of his Adventures.

A Cavalier, who seem'd to have the conduct of the party that convoy'd her, approach'd the Chariot with a low and respectful bow, and humbly en­treated the Lady who spoke to me, to consider, that he should incur the Emperors displeasure, if he did not conduct her to Tusculum in good time; whereupon, with an obliging bow of her head, taking as it were her leave of me, she commanded her Coachman to drive on. I went to some Slaves, who run by the Chariot side, to inform my self who the Lady was, that had discoursed with me. Who is she? answered they, with looks expressing an admiration of my ignorance; Do you not know the Emperors Daughter? you have all seen the Princess Julia; you know what dazeling Rayes she darts from her eyes into those of all such as be­hold her; the complaisant sweetness of her carriage, and the mellifluous Charms which with her Words flow from her Lips. What concern, said I to my self, can the Daughter of Caesar, have with thee, a Passenger, whom she accidentally meets upon a common Road? Why should she make a stop to talk to thee? Why should she ask what Country or Profession thou wert of? It was not Julia cer­tainly, thou did'st see, it was a Vision without doubt; and what thou did'st take to be a real Encounter, was nothing but a deluding Dream. I understood by mine Host where I lodged, that the Emperor had commanded the Princess his Daughter to re­tire to Tusculum upon a difference, which she had had with the Prince Marcellus, whom both himself and the whole Empire designed for her Husband. And a few days after I was inform'd by common report, that the same Prince had cast himself at Augustus his Feet, to obtain a repeal of those Com­mands; [Page 131] and that the same day the Princess was to return to the Court. I had a desire to see her make her entry, and out of an itch of vanity, or more properly infidelity, which I have a thousand times since accus'd with an unfeined grief and re­pentance, I took care to appear more splendid and conspicuous than ordinary. As she alighted out of her Chariot, the Prince Marcellus gave her his hand, to conduct her to her Chamber. I pressed amongst others to see her; she again took notice of me, and made the like Sign to me, as she had done before, upon the Road to Tusculum.

This excess of Civility in the first Princess of the Universe, and towards a person of no Con­sideration, nor Note, struck me with an admira­tion, I am not capable to express. I insinuated my self into the acquaintance of one of her At­tendants, who was a Kinsman of mine Host, and he promised me to admit me to to the sight of the Princess, at the next convenient opportunity: and one day, when she was walking by the River Ty­ber, with no other Company than her Maids of Ho­nor, he came and advertis'd me of it. I hastn'd thither with speed, and us'd all my endeavors to render my self remarkable to her; which was not difficult to be effected. Julia, as you know, has an action very airy and free, and her eyes, like Har­bingers to her Greatness, take up all places where she is, for their entertainment: They had soon found me, and their Princess askt me, if I were not the person, whom she had seen upon the way, as she was going to Tusculum. Yes, Madam, said I, I am the same, who charm'd with your Bounties All-divine, would willingly sacrifice my despicable life to the just acknowledgments, my meanness [Page 132] shall always be oblig'd to pay to them. Preserve your life for some worthier occasion, reply'd the Princess, smiling upon me, I am no lover of bloody Sacrifices, and it would be a great loss to the World, that a person of your Meen and Composure, should be snatcht out of it in the flower of his Youth. She seem'd to be sensibly toucht with all the pas­sionate passages of my Relation, and interrupting me, as I was repeating that of my Sisters bold En­terprize; I cannot applaud, said she, this Mascu­line Bravery in Women; it is so just a Propriety of the other Sex, that methinks, it is always an un­natural usurpation in ours, what pretence soever you color it with. But, I cannot deny, but the action of Herennia has I know not what of heroick in it, which infinitely pleases me; and I will serve you for your Sisters sake. Come see me to morrow, added she, seeing the Prince Marcellus at a distance, who was coming to wait upon her. I solemnly protest, and too often have I made this solemn protestation to the jealous and revengeful Agaritha, that the supernatural Graces of that Princess, did with their lustre, dazle and charm all the facul­ties of my Soul. But I call the Divinity of Love to witness, who is, and ever was, my most adored Deity, that all the time I mention, I never had any other regard for this Princess, but as I hop'd by her favor to arrive at a means to obtain the liberty of Agaritha; but I oon had cause to believe, that the Heavens envyed me the pleasure I took in the thoughts of that hopeful design; for I was told at the Slave-Office, which I visited every hour of the day and night, that those which were ex­pected from the Getish Camp, were Shipwrackt; and that so inconsiderable a number of them had [Page 133] escap'd, that it was not thought worth the trouble of sending them to Rome. I askt with sym­toms of a deathful despair in my countenance, whether a beautiful Grecian, named Agaritha, were in the Catalogue of the living, of the dead. The names are not yet known of the [...]ne, nor the other, reply'd a person, who belong'd to the Office; but if that Agaritha, you mention, be handsom, as you say, she is certainly perisht. I thought this dis­mal News would have put a period to my life; the conformation whereof a day or two after, had almost induc'd me to employ my Sword to effect what my grief was too slow in executing. This fatal accident had totally rais'd the character of Ju­liaes Charms out of my memory; I had no other thoughts than of restoring to my Sister an unfor­tunate Brother, who was now the sole support and Guardian of her Orphan Beauty, and I left my melancholy quarters to seek a convenience for my journy, when passing through the Piazza, which is before the Pantheon, I saw the Princess, who was then come out of that Temple, walking under some Trees, which in pleasant Walks, are rang'd before it. She discover'd me almost, as soon as I had her; and commanding her Servants to call me unto her; What is the reason, said she, you did not come to me, as I order'd you? Alas, Ma­dam, answer'd I, with tears ready to start out of my eyes, I have no more need of the protection, you did me the honor to promise me; Agaritha, for whom alone I thought to have taken the pre­sumption to have beg'd it, is no longer in the World. Is it possible, reply'd the Princess, that any body should be so much concern'd for the death of a person, they defign'd for a Wife? You have [Page 134] not had time to practice with Agaritha one of those Intrigues, which gives Love that firmity of settle­ment in the Soul of Lovers; you demanded her in Marriage upon the very first motions of your Love; and obtained her upon the first of your demands, did you not, of her Parents? Yes, Madam, said I, interrupting her, with more transport than re­spect; but the injurious Heaven forbid the Banes of my felicity. That's nothing, said the Princess, you have not had sufficient proof, or knowledge of her, to desire her possession with that vehemen­cy and ardor, you pretend; Do not leave Rome, for Heaven seem'd to charge me with your protecti­on and conduct, when it offer'd you to my view upon the Road to Tusculum; we want not fair La­dies here, to whom you may devote your self, without the consent or displeasure of Hymen. But, Madam, said I, if I may dare to presume to be of an opinion repugnant to yours, I should affirm, that you impose upon me the most rigorous Law, that Man is capable of being bound to: For can a Lover be confin'd to a destiny more severe, than an irrefragable despair, of ever possessing his Mi­stress? You are dull of apprehension, said Julia, I wish you nothing less, than a rigorous destiny; stay in Rome, I tell you; and if you please, you may add your self to the number of divers young Gentlemen, who without the stipend of a mer­cenary Service, are entertain'd in my Family. I embrac'd the offer, she made me, with all the [...]arks of an humble joy and respect; and the chiefest employ of those places, was to exhibit an obse­quious diligence and assidnity towards her person. The first day that I was to give my attendance, I was struck with wonder to find in the Princesses [Page 135] Closet the Portraiture of a Cupid, which I had pro­cured to be drawn by an exquisite hand at Lesbos, and deliver'd to my Mistresses. She observ'd my admira­tion; you know this Piece, I see, said she to me; and I believ'd the first moment I saw you, that you could not be a Stranger to it. I know it most assuredly, Madam, said I, but cannot imagine how it should come to the honor of being in the place, where I see it. If the person that plac'd it here, said a Lady, interrupting our discourse (whom the Princess had a particular respect for, and I knew afterwards to be Sulpicia) had imagin'd it would have produc'd the effects it has done, would have been better advis'd, than to have brought it hither. These words dy'd the Princess Cheeks with a scarlet blush, and casting an angry look upon her, Must you always be talking of that Man? said she to her; are you not satisfi'd, that he has oc­casion'd a quarrel already? But you will have him as well present as absent, create a new one betwixt us. Ha! my dear Princess, reply'd Sulpicia, in a rallying tone, if that which I say to day, attracts your displeasure upon me, it must be for some cause far different from that, which would have attract­ed it some days ago. Who can forbear, went she on smiling, to smile a little sometimes at the plea­sant manner, whereby we see Love play with the Policy of Lovers? This person of so eminent ex­perience makes you a present of a Picture of Love, to the end, says he, that the representation of the God of Love, should preserve in your thoughts the memory of the Lover: And for this cause he conjures you to cast your eyes often upon the Pi­cture; and because you have too often comply'd with his desires, you how grow quarrelsome with [Page 136] me. You will never leave this idle raillery, said Julia, clapping her hand before Sulpiciaes Mouth; let us talk no more neither of the effects it has pro­duc'd, nor the party that gave it us.

The Relation of Herennius was here interrupted by one of Ovid's Slaves, who came running up the Terrass with a more than ordinary speed. Oh! ye good and mighty gods, cry'd he out, I give you thanks, that the News is not true— Of what News talk you? said Ovid; and what makes you interrupt us in this rude manner? Sir, reply'd the Slave, pardon me, for I am yet quite besides my self. I went along close by the Sea-shore, to see if I could discover any Marks of a Combat, which I was told, had been newly fought there; where I found Tisienus, who, methoughts had something of dismal and horrid in his countenance; he knew me to belong to you. Go boy, said he, and bury thy Masters body, who has now receiv'd the just r ward of all his Crimes. I was not able for a while to stir any limb I had, at the apprehension of these mournful words, and seeing Tisienus make hastily away from me, after he had spoke them, I en­deavoured to follow him, to gain a clearer under­standing of them; but he went so fast, and my sur­prize had so disarm'd my legs of their strength, that I could not possibly overtake him. Fortune guided me hither, where, thanks to Heaven, I find, that Tisienus has only made a trial of my love to my Master. Hor­tensius and Ovid lookt one upon another at this Re­lation of the Slave; which included more than one Mystery, but they could not on a sudden penetrate into the consequence; for one of Hortensius his Ser­vants came all in a fright, to tell him, that Lentulus was newly murder'd in one of the Walks of the [Page 137] Wilderness, and carried home to his house. Cepion ran thither, and the rest of the Company followed him; where they found Herennia, Adiamante, and Junia, at the foot of the Stairs. The young Heren­nius knew his Sister by the light of the Torches, which display'd a glorious day over all the house; he was agreeably surpriz'd at so much a desir'd, but little expected Encounter. He ran to her with open Arms, and incircling her in his tender embraces: Herennia, said he, my dear Sister, have I found you in this barbarous Island! Herennia was startled at the action of her Brother, but coming to know him, and the name of Sister, which he pronounc'd, confirming the report of her eyes, Ah! Herennius! Oh! my dear Brother, said she, bedewing his Cheeks with her overflowing Tears, in what a deplorable condition do you find me? Her redoubled fighs would not suffer her to utter a word more. They all went up together to the Chamber of the wounded Lentulus. He had then fortunately with him a very skilful Surgeon, whom he had brought from the Getish Camp: This man with such good suc­cess employ'd his Art, that in a short time he re­duc'd him out of an (almost) mortal swound, in­to which his great loss of blood had cast him. He searcht a deep wound, which he had a little above his Heart, and was judg'd by him to have been gi­ven with a Ponyard, Herennia assisted his labor with a sorrowful diligence, which reduc'd her to a weakness almost equal, to that, of the expiring Lentulus; and thinking that in the countenance of the Surgeon, she had discover'd the wound to be mortal, she gave a loud shreek, and was dropping in a swound into the Arms of Adiamante. Lentu­lus turn'd his languishing eyes towards the place, [Page 138] from whence the cry was sent; and seeing Herennia ready to drown her labouring Soul in a torrent of her own tears; It is not to me, Madam, said he, with a feeble Voice, that you sacrifice those preti­ous tears, but to the despight of having been dis­appointed of a more pretious assignation. Heren­nia redoubled her cries at this reproach of her Lo­ver, and turning her self towards Junia, see, said she, at how dear a rate I purchase your friendship. When I understood by the return of my Slave, that the Ticket, I writ to Ovid, came to Lentulus his hand, I apprehended some dismal effect of our folly. I sought after Lentulus all day, to free him from the disquiet, I fear'd that Billet would beget in him: But alas! I could not find him, till his fury had fore-stall'd my designed prevention. But tell me, cruel one, said she, casting a tender regard upon her wound­ed Lover, tell me, has the character of my Love left no impression in thy Heart, able to ballance this weak shadow of an infidelity? What have I done? What have I said, since the first moment thou hast known me, that should induce thee to believe, that it is so easie for my heart to turn Traitor, and abjure its first principles? Ovid, who as soon as he heard himself nam'd, had advanc'd towards them, to inform himself on what occasion his name was introduc'd into the Scene, addrest his Suit to the disconsolate Herennia; but she turning her head away on the other side, and thrusting him from her with her hand, retire out of my sight, I be­seech you, Ovid, said she; your presence does ex­asperate my afflictions; ask Junia an account of what you desire to know.

Lentulus's Surgeon finding that these discourses disturb'd that repose, which was necessary for him, desir d those, that were engaged in them, to defer them to a more seasonable opportunity. All on a sudden were silent, and withdrew into another Chamber, where they resolv'd to spend the night, being unwilling to remove farther from the brave Lentulus in the condition they saw him.

THE HISTORY OF Agrippa.

I Shall not, Sir, justifie before you my Passion for the Wife of Mecoenas: he is my friend; he merits the particular esteem of all whom he honors with his friendship; and though nothing could render him worthy of it, but the favor, where­with you dignifie him, that alone ought to attract to him the respect and veneration of the whole Empire: But, Sir, you are sensible your self of the Charms of Terentia, you are not ignorant of the effects they produce, and how much a Miracle it would be not to forget in her presence all con­siderations that ought to balance the power of her Beauty.

Ovid first caus'd my Soul to take a particular cognisance of that, which it had always endeavor'd to conceal from it self. We were one evening walk­king by the Tyber side, where Ovid produc'd a new Work of his composure, and was reading it to me; when Terentia, who with divers other La­dies, [Page 145] had made choice likewise of her Walk on the same side, past by us.

Oh! that divine Creature, said Ovid, transfixt as it were with admiration, those enchanting eyes, that sweet air, those tempting lips, that charming countenance, in fine, that perfect contexture, and epitome of all Beauty. You pay but half a Sa­crifice to that Divinity, said I, interrupting him, you ought to have spoken of the vivacity of her Wit, that ingenious and pleasant raillery, where­with she seasons the most serious Affairs; that ele­gance of Speech, and that Eloquence, which with­out study, and sometimes her own knowledge, flows from her lips, with that natural grace, that our greatest Orators may gather from them the chief­est Flowers, which embellish their Art. It is very pleasant methinks, said Ovid, smiling in my face, to see you add so glorious a varnish to the first draught of my rude Pencil; and I have believ'd a long time, that a person of the temper of Agrippa, could not every day converse with the Wife of Mecoenas, and not resign to her Charms the great­est part of his liberty. You let your suspitions fly too far at random, said I, I am so sensible that Terentia is the Wife of Mecoenas, that I dare not be sensible of any Charm in her, inconsistent with that quality. The same reason, reply'd Ovid, which you oppose to your love of Terentia, would be the chiefest motive to induce me to attempt it. Mecoenas is a person worthy of Love, he married Terentia for Love, and he is most passionately enamour'd of her; And these, upon a just balance, are the true dispositions, which a Man of Merit ought to de­sire in a Mistriss; and methinks a temptation should invade the sacred Augustus himself, whose Soul is [Page 146] so susceptible of the impressions of Love, to experi­ence the pleasures of unthroning a Subject of Mecoenas his Merit. Let us speak of Caesar, said I, interrupting his bold discourse, but with that veneration we speak of the Gods, without all prophane appli­cations. The inclinations we remark in him, agree so well with the characters of an heroick vir­tue, that we ought to reverence them in him, as some of its noblest Properties; but that which of­tentimes in a Subject may pass for a blameless acti­on, in a Prince assumes another Character; and for the former to contain himself within the bounds of security, he ought not to suffer his Tongue to touch any action of his Sovereign, which it may prophane by an irreverence of expression.

Ovid had too much apprehension to prosecute a discourse any farther, which I had given such a check to; and so for a while, we diverted it to an­other subject, and ended our conversation for that day; but my thoughts remained so full of those Idea's, his discourse had imprinted in them, that it was impossible for me to banish them from thence. The great Merit of Mecoenas, which had serv'd till then for a Bridle to curb the exorbitancy of my de­sires, did now begin to spur them on, and indulge them a loose Reine. I with impatience expected the hour, wherein I might see Terentia, and having by chance surpriz'd her, as she was bestowing some Caresses upon her Husband, who left her, and was going forth, to wait upon your Majesty; I grew so jealous, that I could not forbear to begin a quar­rel with her upon it.

You do not consider, with what you reproach me, said she, smiling upon me; A Woman is so un­fortunate, [Page 147] when she is forc'd to counterfeit a Love, she is not really sensible of; that for her own in­terest, she ought to strain all the powers of her Soul, to ingraft that real sensibility in it. Why counter­feit Love, Madam, said I, wise Ladies exempt themselves from that trouble, and confine the duty they owe their husbands, within the bounds of an honorable complaisance. A complaisance! said Te­rentia, what then without Love, and out of the sole compliment of a pure complaisance, must a Woman tranfact all the precious Minutes of her Life with a Man, receive his Caresses, and—No, no, Agrippa, these thoughts diffuse horror through all my veins; a Woman must either have a Love for her husband, or resolve to sacrifice the whole content of her life, to the tortures of a racking despair and inquietude. These two extremes, Madam, said I, may have a medium; a Wife places an esteem upon that, in a husband, which may really challenge her esteem: she may allow him a Love too, if you will, such as we attribute to the Merits of a faithful Friend: But as that kind of friendship does generally leave a vacuum in the heart, she may make choice of a discreet and prudent Lover to fill it up, who balancing all con­cerns betwixt her and her husband, may convert that ceremonious complaisance, you made so ingeni­ous an observation upon, into another species; and though different from Love, yet bearing as near a resemblance to it, as it acts without constraint, or repugnance. Madam, I speak of the heart only, said I, seeing Terentia in some concern; and when one assigns that for the limit of his conceptions, he may without temerity allow them a large Field to expatiate in.

The arrival of some Ladies interrupted our far­ther converse, but Terentia gave me to understand two dayes after in the Princess Julia's apartment; that she had revolv'd the effects of it in her curious thoughts. Some Persons were pleas'd to think well of the endeavors I employ'd for the re-instating the Princess Scribonia in the good grace of the Empress. I told them, they deserv'd as little praise, as they had cost me trouble. A little counsel, which the Prin­cess did me the honor to believe, was faithful and sincere, had accomplish'd that great work. Your counsels, said Terentia, are of great force, and Hea­ven seems to entail success upon them. That same Heaven, Madam, I fear, reply'd I, fixing an inten­tive regard upon her, would check my vanity, should I presume to entail a belief upon your curious re­marks. For is it possible, that my counsels are ca­pable of the effects, you attribute to them? I know not, reply'd Terentia, if in all other things besides, your endeavors may be so happy, as they have been in reconciling the Empress to Scribonia; but be it fortune, or design, I know by my own experience, that your counsels imprint a deep character in some hearts, that give ear to them.

Who would not have believ'd, Sir, that these words were design'd to encourage my hopes? I re­tir'd my self, to digest them at liberty, into the Gar­dens of Lucullus, where I found Ovid, who ask'd me, if I had not encounter'd some Ladies in my walk. I had not seen any; and instead of an an­swer, I ask'd him the reason of his question; The reason is, said he, because I have just now found a Letter in the Cittron-Grove, which some Lady or other has drop'd; and in saying so he gave it me, where I read the following Lines: [Page 149] ‘The more I combat my Enemy, the more I despair of Victory, my dear Tullia; The reflections, which ought to infuse courage into my Soul, disarm it of all resolution; and if the arrival of some Ladies had not interrupted the converse, which I had yesterday with Agrippa, I bad reveal'd to him all the secrets of my heart. I must abandon it to its own inclination, which proposes nothing to me but a glorious fall; but yet I hope to preserve my self so secure from the dan­ger of the real Precipice, that I shall need to fear no other reproaches, than those which my virtue or loyalty shall raise against me; And if those should be seconded at last by a just remorse, could that give me more di­straction or trouble, than the resistance I have hitherto made with so much glory and fidelity?’

Judge, Sir, I beseech you, what the imaginations were, that invaded my thoughts, at the sight of this Paper. I had oftentimes seen Terentia's writing, and I believ'd it was her character. Are you, said Ovid, who perceiv'd a disturbance in my countenance, the Party, who sustain the attacks of the combat, this Letter mentions? Or had it already succeeded to your glory? I know not, my dear Ovid, reply'd I; but the Party, who writ it, is the only Person in the Universe, I ever lov'd, or ever shall love. I do not ask you, who that Person is, said Ovid with a smile, for I know you will name her to me without my im­portunity, and not deprive a friend of so slight a sa­tisfaction. I am endu'd with all the qualifications, requisite in a real Confident; I am inur'd to all the most delicate intrigues of Love; I participate in the sufferings of Lovers, and my brains are luxuriant in invention. Why do you therefore scruple to ac­quaint [Page 150] me with the secret? I know not how to set an estimate upon my self, and I expect you should make it your request to me, to lend my attention to the curiosity you have to impart to me.

It is hard for a Lover, Sir, to wave the occasion of discoursing of his Love: I discover'd to Ovid all the Cabinet-counsels of my heart. Your condition is more happy, said he, than you apprehend it to be; Tullia entertains some good will for me; and since it appears by this Letter, she is a Confident of Te­rentia's, I dare promise you an assurance of a faithful intelligence. Let us first said I, in order to the intel­ligence you mention, endeavor to discover who that fortunate Lover may be, in whose favor Terentia de­clares herself.

Ovid would persuade me, it was my self; but I durst not flatter my hopes with so erroneous a pre­sumption. We recall'd to our thoughts each indi­vidual, person, that seem'd to affect a diligence or devotion to the service of Mecoenas; and not being able to fix our judgments upon any one in particular, I referr'd the resolution of our incertitude to the re­ports of Tullia. I conjur'd Ovid to give her a visit the same day, and went my self to give order for the Just, which about that time I caus'd to be solem­niz'd in memory of your Victories over the bloody Assassins of the great Julius.

The Victor was to receive the prize of the Course from the fair hand of Terentia, by the order of Me­coenas, by whom all occasions of signalizing your glo­ry, were no less ambition'd, than by my self: Never did his divine spoil charm the eyes of Rome with so dazling a lustre. Divers Kings, and Sons of Kings, who assisted at that Triumph, cry'd out aloud, That the sole wonder of Rome, was the glorious Wife of [Page 151] Mecoenas. I had the honor to reconduct her back to her Apartment, charg'd with all the Transports of Love and Lovers Raptures, and at my coming forth, I met Ovid. Methought he endeavor'd to avoid me, and seem'd troubled at my encounter. How now? Ovid, what means this strangeness, said I, presenting my self to him. Have you any bad news, of which you fear to be the Author? Neither good, nor bad, answer'd he, but only that Tullia and my self have had a small quarrel; and I cannot wheedle the secret out of her, wherein you are concern'd. You have begun this quarrel very unseasonably, said I; And if you had had any respect for me, you would have ma­nag'd a Person with more prudence, on whose in­terest, you know, mine have so necessary a depen­dance. I must confess, I am in a fault, reply'd Ovid, and that was the reason, I was desirous to shun you; but you now begin to have a sensible apprehension of Love, I have a most passionate one for the daughter of Cicero, and I suspect her to be guilty of a treache­ry towards me; and you cannot be so void of judg­ment your self, as not to comprehend, that such a suspition is able to deprive me of it.

I was forc'd to take this excuse for full payment, and content my self with casting some reproaches upon my destiny. But the next day after the Em­press gave a Ball, which was treated with a Noble Collation; where I perceiv'd that Ovid was not upon such ill terms with Tullia, as he had persuaded me. I discover'd them making Love to each other by private signs; Tullia passing by him, gave him a se­cret pinch on the arm; which Ovid observing I had taken notice of, took notice himself of the stolen fa­vor; but in a Moment after, his subtlety gave place to his Love; for when Tullia came to take him out [Page 152] to dance, he could not forbear, by a passionate gesture, to return her thanks for the honor of that obliging expression of her kindness towards him.

I could refrain no longer, then at the end of the Assembly, to exhibit unto him, the Indictment I had drawn up in my distracted thoughts, against his trea­son. I did not importune you for your assistance, said I to Ovid; it was you your self, who without my sollicitation, made a voluntary offer of it to me. If you had had any private reason to repent your self of so generous an action, you might with the same freedom have repeal'd it, and I would have re­turn'd it back again to you, and not impos'd upon you a necessity, of offering me so unworthy an abuse; but I fathom the Mystery. You have taken your self the advice, you not long since so frankly gave me, to love Terentia; Her charms have made a con­quest of your heart, and for that reason alone you have thought fit to make a friend of my integrity, the subject of your Perfidy. You do me a great deal of honor, reply'd Ovid, with a flattering kind of smile, to regard me with an eye of jealousie; but yet as great as it is, it cannot seduce my vanity, I am in despair of ever meriting it; and for no other cause did I pretend a quarrel with Tullia, than that I might not be the Herald of such unwelcom News, as I assur'd my self that would be, which should de­nounce to you an Emperor for your Rival. An Emperor? cry'd I, starting back. Yes, said Ovid, an Emperor; Augustus's greatness is inthron'd in the centre of Terentia's heart; and you have not a Man for your Rival, who would sacrifice his life at your feet, rather than dispute that glory with you. But, Ovid, said I, has Augustus ever express'd any in­clinations [Page 153] for the Wife of Mecoenas? All Rome is inform'd, he has fix'd them in another place. The Emperor, reply'd Ovid, owes only to his own Merit the Passion, he has given birth to; which he has nei­ther improv'd, nor cultivated yet by any particular address; nay, he is wholly ignorant of its effects, and it is believ'd that Terentia herself would more than half die with confusion, did she suspect, he were the least sensible of them. See here what Tul­lia writ to me the same day, you sent me to employ her to gain the secret from Terentia. The Letter, which I found in the Gardens of Lucullus, and you read, was lost by Cicero's daughter; and since this other, which you may here peruse, I have had some converse with her, who gave me a full account of all I have here represented to you; having said this, he produc'd a Letter, of which the fragment that fell into your hands, Sir, was a part.

Ye great Gods! What do you tell me? said Cae­sar, Can I believe you? And can it be possible, that I made my self the object of my own jealousie? You may judge, Sir, reply'd Agrippa, by the sequel of what I have to say, of the truth of my report. I could not acquiesce in the sole testimony of Tullia; and as I endeavor'd to purchase a clearer evidence of my Misfortune, I am able to render your greatness a clearer assurance of your felicity.

Revolve in your Royal imagination, I beseech you, Sir, the deplorable condition, the discourse of Ovid reduc'd me to: I consider'd you as my Master, and glorious Patron, but still as an envy'd Rival in my Mistrisses favor: And as under one of these forms you might with Justice command me to re­voke my presumptuous Love; under the other you banish'd out of my thoughts the Memory of all re­spect [Page 154] and obligations I ow'd you, I darted a thou­sand reproaches, a thousand imprecations at my Stars, ten thousand Murmurs against Heaven for ha­ving form'd you so amiable: I do not fear to declare these extravagances to you, since I have now sur­mounted them; and the more violent my transports were, the duty which triumph'd over them, will, I hope, merit a more favorable censure in your August thoughts.

Ovid would not leave me all that night; and though he were most sensibly touch'd with my af­flictions, yet he did combate them with such dis­courses, that it might be wish'd for the delight of Rome, that he had still conserv'd a due Respect and Memory of them. What do you think, said he, to oppose against the Merit of your Emperor the coldness, which he yet entertains for the beauty of Terentia? Alas! do you imagine, that this coldness will be still proof against that tender Passion, which Terentia will not be able long to disguise under the Mask of so violent a Constraint? She is the admi­red beauty of the Empire, and Caesar has a piercing judgment; she cannot long remain expos'd to the destiny of loving by herself: And perhaps, at this very Moment, we are now discoursing, the cloud, which must of necessity be shortly transparent, may be remov'd from Caesar's eyes. He tells her the Universe has no fitter object for Caesar's Love, than the immortal charms of the Divine Terentia: Then your designs, which hitherto may pass only for in­nocent attempts, will become unpardonable crimes. Be advis'd in time, and do not dispute the title of Terentia's Love, with the Master of the Universe, whose heart ought to be sacred to you, since it is stamp'd with the image of Caesar; and the least [Page 155] forfeit you shall make of that obedience you owe him, will be chastis'd as a criminal ingratitude in a person of Agrippa's quality.

Ovid shew'd himself but too true a Prophet in his Predictions; you have been pleas'd to tell me since, that it was at that Just, where Terentia first began to charm you: but as I was ignorant of any such mat­ter, and my wound too new, to receive a cure from the hand of reason, I had no regard to his too real Divinations.

I tormented my self all night with such restless distractions, and being inform'd the next day, by some Spies, which I alwayes maintain'd about Te­rentia, that she was to go to the Temple, you gave me leave to dedicate unto Neptune, I posted thither with an impatient speed. The Sacrifice was not begun, and whil'st it was preparing, Terentia di­verted herself by a walk under the Trees, which in many pleasant Groves are rank'd about that Fane.

You need not ask, said she, as soon as she saw me, what kind of devotion has invited Agrippa hither; he knew that Caesar is preparing for his Voyage into Asia, and is come to offer Sacrifice to the God of the Caerulean Empire, to purchase calm weather for his own Emperor. And, Madam, said I, are you come to purchase Storms and Tempests! I am too good a Roman, reply'd she with a surprizing blush, to offer up to the Gods such sacrilegious Vows. And too clear-sighted, Madam, said I, to regard the glory of Caesar with ah eye of that indifferency, as perhaps some other good Romans do.

Terentia was so discompos'd with this little re­proach, that it was a long time before she could frame an Answer; but at length recomposing her [Page 156] self, you have attack'd me more than once, reply'd she, with such mysterious discourses: your Advice against what I owe to Mecoenas, your flattering cha­racter, and your diligence, cause me to suspect, some private end is the Mark, they are level'd at. You now make your reflections upon Augustus, and may it not be possible, that great Caesar may honor with a generous compassion the innocent inclinations of his humble Handmaid?

I was now so disorder'd my self at this question, that for a quarter of an hour, I lost the total use of my tongue, when Terentia with a serious look ma­king a descant upon the distraction, she saw me in, you are surpriz'd, I see, said she, to hear me propose, so unexpected a Problem to you. And perhaps you will say, that my late Manner of conversing with you, has not prepar'd you to entertain it: But Agrip­pa, the Passion I have for Augustus, has something in it of so noble and so pure, that I can own it without the reproach of a guilty blush: And I shall confess that my heart receiv'd the image of Caesar from my tender years, that this impression has grown with me, and that the Emperor has no engagements ei­ther in War, or Love, wherein it does not challenge a private concern. And does he entertain the like for me? Speak, and do not keep my Soul any lon­ger in suspence; The purity of my intentions ought to leave no impure suspitions in yours. I love Cae­sar, as we love the Gods; and I should believe, I should be guilty of an impiety against them, should I love him otherwayes. Speak, Agrippa, and give me a clear explanation of that which the muteness of your tongue, and the eloquence of your eyes, gives me some apprehensions of. Oh! Madam, cry'd I, my eyes and my tongue are but the too fatal inter­preters of my thoughts.

Terentia did without doubt penetrate the sense of this Exclamation; she blush'd, and pretending the Sacrifice was ready to begin, she took the occasion, and enter'd briskly into the Temple, leaving me without the power to follow her. I had discover'd in her eyes, a kind of, I know not what despite; mix'd with a reservedness and disdain, which I was no longer able to support. I went home to my house, where I found your Orders to summon me to your presence; With a feeble and languishing motion I paid obedience to your commands, and I thought that day would have put a mortal period to the cause of it; for, Sir, you commanded my attendance for no other, than to confide to me the secret of your new Amour.

I did not render my self guilty of a treasonable Crime in opposing it, but I told you at the same time, that I was deceiv'd, if Terentia did not em­brace it with all the concerns of a reciprocal Passion: But this constraint was so repugnant to my nature, that it ever apprehended with horror the necessity of often renewing it. A little after I made my Expe­dition into Sicily, on which the contemplative Judges of other Mens Actions took the liberty to spend their verdicts at their pleasure; And I am return'd, thanks to the great Gods, so perfectly cur'd of my folly, that I hope they will inspire more dutiful prin­ciples into me, than to dispute the Justice or Merits of my Cause, with my glorious Emperor.

I had several times resolv'd to declare to you the secret Crime, my Love tempted me to commit against you; but as that declaration would have on­ly serv'd to have assur'd you of your felicity, (and that I found you had an undoubted assurance of be­fore) I judg'd it unnecessary. My Crime, Sir, is [Page 156] [...] [Page 157] [...] [Page 158] now ceas'd with my Love, and therefore they both cease to be longer silent; and here you have the whole secret of that fragment, which so much dis­quieted your Royal thoughts, most faithfully un­mask'd before you. Judge now, Sir, I beseech you, if your reason tells you, you have done Terentia justice, in suspecting her of infidelity.

The Emperor attributed an entire confidence to the Relation of Agrippa, which perfectly reconcil'd his jealousie to his doubts concerning the Paper, which had come to his hand; but there was ano­ther, no less important, still inherent in his inquiet imagination. The discovery of a new Rival ever begets a new trouble in our fancy; and though in the height of its capriciousness he exhal'd com­plaints, when suited only with the resentments of a Lover abus'd, yet he was not assur'd if he had not, since the first birth of his jealousie, some just grounds to harbor a contrary belief. He imparted all his thoughts to Agrippa, who endeavor'd to calm them, with the best arguments he was capable of, he had made a most diligent inspection into all the concerns of Terentia, from the first Minute he had entertain'd any for her himself; And the love of Crassus had not deluded it, and therefore he conjur'd Caesar to believe, that he had purchas'd no other advantage with all his assiduities, than a disdainful repulse of his rejected suit. The Emperor, whose Love, was as unquiet, as passionate, and desired only to find re­pose, was willing, to be convinc'd by the reasonings of Agrippa: and testify'd no less acknowledgments to him, for this conquest he had made of his jealou­sie, than he had done before, when by those he had made of his most redoubted Enemies, he had esta­blish'd him in the Imperial Throne of the Uni­verse: [Page 159] And hastening to the Apartment of Teren­tia, he was inflam'd with impatience, till he had for­ced his unjust suspicions to beg a submissive pardon of her injur'd Loyalty; but he was disappointed of his design, for she was gone to visit Tullia, at her de­licate Villa, which her Father Cicero had left her near Tuseulum.

When these two Confidents saw themselves in a, capacity of enjoying each others conversation with freedom, Terentia declar'd to Tullia the disgrace of Crassus; and that she was inform'd by some persons, whom she privately entertain'd near the Emperor, that he had utter'd some expressions before them, which his jealousie seem'd to have forc'd from him. You know, said she, whether this jealousie has any solid ground, or no to support it self; and whether I am not able to apply an infallible remedy to his imaginary distemper, but he will not vouchsafe to have recourse to it. He caus'd Crassus to be arrest­ed; he commanded all his Papers to be brought to him, and examin'd them, without imparting to me the least inkling of his designs. What could he have done more, had I been convicted of a crimi­nal compliance? Oh! how unjust are Men? The most accomplish'd among them become either In­grates, or Tyrants, as soon as they imagine they have gain'd the least interest in our affections, you do not consider, said Tullia, interrupting her, at what Mark you level your complaints. Jealousie is the infallible Herald of a violent Passion, and I should have had a greater for Ovid, than I now have, if when I put his to the test, I had found it of the same temper with Caesars. I must confess, reply'd Teren­tia, that a little jealousie is inseparable from a great love; but do you understand, with what kind of [Page 160] jealousie I would have Augustus possest? I would have him jealous of his own Imperial Grandeur; that he should fear, lest that should have a more powerful influence upon my inclinations, than the Merits of his Person; and that being exagitated without intermission by that active suspicion, he should employ the greatness it self, as an humble Sui­ter to me, to lend him my assistance to destroy it: yet all this should not make me forget the respect I owe to the grandeur of his Soul, and the illustrious cha­racter of his generosity; but elevating my own Meanness to meet his Greatness at the point, to which he should be pleas'd to debase himself be low his own sphere, we would form a concurrence of spiritual desires, that should prevent the Lethargy of long and languishing Passions. But alas! it is not this noble kind of jealousie, but a sordid and injuri­ous one, which Caesar is guilty of, and with which he has already alarum'd the ears of the World, without vouchsafing to think mine worthy to receive from him the least whisper of it, and believing me to be light, ingrateful, treacherous— He believes you to be no such thing, reply'd the daughter of Cicero, interrupting her, he only fears lest the Merit; or As­siduities of a new Lover should make a breach in your heart; and as it is to that heart only, to which he has confin'd his pretensions, the least impression, any other should make there, he interprets, as an usurpation upon his own Prerogative. If you had not limited your favors to so narrow a circumfe­rence, Augustus would have thought himself more secure. There are certain Marks and Pledges of Love, after which a Lover cannot suspect his Mi­striss of unconstancy, without committing a mortal offence against her: But the gift of the heart, is not [Page 161] of that number; there is no particular value to be set upon it, but in the fancy of the Lover only, who thinks himself possess'd of it; and as a Woman is seldom tempted more than once, to make a free do­nation thereof, and seldom wants the temptation of often violating it, she leaves alwayes an apprehension in a sensible Lover, lest she should be mov'd by some powerful Motive, to embrace the latter, as being most obvious. Oh! Tullia, cry'd the Wife of Me­coenas, I could be angry to see you frame such gross conceits on so delicate a Subject; the gift of the heart is so far from leaving any just scruple in the Souls of those that love, that it is only capable to assure their repose. All Pledges of Love, which are not included within it, are the effects of a weakness, which I think none ought to be guilty of, if they can avoid it, and that one may be guilty of more than once, since it is not voluntary and unconstrain'd. But that Love, whereof all the Passions acknowledge the Empire of reason, has I know not what in it of so noble, and so pure, that it will not admit the allay of any base or ignoble thought, and would make a greater scruple of the least infidelity, than your Li­bertine Ladies do of the greatest Crimes.

As Terentia had with these last words concluded her delicate distinctions, a Servant came and adver­tis'd Tullia, that Varentilla and Fulvia, attended by Horace, Virgil, and Cornelius Gallus, the Praetor of Egypt, were come from Rome to wait on her. Teren­tia was come thither to entertain her unquiet thoughts with that pleasant solitude, and was not then in a fit humor for a general converse. But the Train was compos'd of too many illustrious Persons, not to be receiv'd with all the demonstrations of an obliging respect and welcom. Fulvia was daughter [Page 162] to that renowned Tutor of Augustus, whose glories with himself were buried in the common ruines of the bloody Triumvirate: And the Emperor desirous to repair in her the Misfortunes of her Father, made but little difference in appearance betwixt her, and the Princess his daughter. Varentilla was her Kins­woman, and had married the Head of the Claudian Family, which has since given Caesars to the Empire; and it is thought, that she preceded Terentia in the heart of Augustus. The two Friends went forth of their flowry Cabinet, where their converse was, and advanced to give a reception to the noble com­pany.

They found them in a Basse-Gallery, which open'd with a stately Portal, and was wainscoted with cedar, and hung round with divers rich pieces, representing the most Memorable Actions of her Fathers life. His famous pleading for Roscius, which oblig'd him to flie into Greece, to substract himself from the fury of Sylla; the applauses and congratu­lations, he receiv'd at Athens; his triumphant re­turn into his own Countrey, and his honor for pre­serving it from the bloody attempts of Cataline: His journey towards Pompey, and that barbarous death he sustained, which branded with an eternal ignominy the Posterity of those that inflicted it.

Had the Painter, said Virgil, upon the survey of those pieces, consulted my Memoires, he had not omitted the adventure of Milo. I caus'd it not to be here inserted, reply'd Tullia, because I have heard some reports, that in that encounter, the artifice of Hortensius triumph'd over the eloquence of my Fa­ther. It is a Fiction, said Virgil, he did not gain that cause, though he gain'd no small honor by it; you were not in the World, when it was a witness [Page 163] to that grand tryal; and therefore you are ignorant doubtless, of the circumstances of it; which I shall give you a faithful account of, when you please to command it; and by it convince you, that your re­nowned Father, never did any thing more remark­able and glorious.

The time was never unseasonable to lend atten­tion to what Virgil had to say. Terentia, with an obliging expostulation, complain'd of his unkind­ness, for designing to reserve that Relation for Tullia only. And Virgil, who understood very well the extent of that complaisance, we ought to exhibit to our Sovereigns in the person of those, they have an esteem for, told her she might command what she pleas'd, and he was ready to obey. The Company mov'd towards a Walk, which represented a conti­nued Arbor, or green Ʋmbrella, under which in the most scorching heats of Summer, you could not be incommoded by the Sun. Virgil plac'd himself be­twixt the four Ladies: And Horace and Cornelius guarded the end of each Wing, and so marching all a-breast, Virgil began his recital in this manner.

THE HISTORY OF Horace.

THE World has incurr'd an error in judgment, my Lord, in that it has made of me; which believes that good cheer is the sole Deity I idolize: who have neither gust, nor desires, but to delicious Novels; and only regard Love, as an intermess, or preparative to quicken their appetite for the better relishing voluptuous varieties of a luxurious Table. This draught does nothing at all resemble me. Li­berty is that I seek at Feasts, more than the delicacies of their entertainments; and if a Man in the whole course of his life were endu'd with a Soul so brutish, that it were capable of no other inclinations, than what a gourmandizing appetite should inspire into it, I should be found oftner at the private Tables of my Friends, than in their Halls at their publick Ban­quets.

These practices may divert a Mans thoughts from more serious Reflections, or Employs, but cannot di­vest [Page 176] them of all propensity to generous actions, or noble and tender Passions: And his reason is the more refin'd by them, since he does not associate himself with his Friends, but to make a more open profession of it: And a Man is so far from falling in­to those Vices, which infect his nature with bruta­lity, by this frank overture, that a Man is really more a Man, when his Soul is totally unmask'd of that dissimulation, which is generally practis'd by Per­sons of a more reserv'd converse.

I had made some remarks upon these distinctions in an Ode I compos'd in the praise of a magnificent Banquet, made by the generous Mecoenas; and this Poem was receiv'd with so much applause, that a Critick ought to have been very audacious, that durst have censur'd it. Ovid glory'd to be that au­dacious One; and being one day in the presence of the Princess Julia, he omitted no kind of Raillery wherewith he did not play upon me, for dedicating my genius wholly to Bacchanalian Revels and Tri­umphs.

What do you find in it so ridiculous, said I to him? Is not the fertile Vine, which is Mother to the delicious Falernian Grape, as worthy of the noblest Idea's of a Poet, as the Flowers, you combine into an odoriferous Posie, and therein present us with a Clita, or an Hippolita? This Allegory, reply'd Ovid, has relation to a passion of the Soul, much nobler than that of a gluttonous appetite; and it is more glorious for a Poet to teach Lovers the gentile Art of Loving, than Debauchees, the most ingenious me­thod of improving their Debaucheries. Love, said I, surprizes the frolick spirit amidst the jollity of his Cups and Banquets, as it attacks the Melancholy in his solitary and sullen retirements. The delight a [Page 177] boon Companion takes in being regal'd, and a Lo­ver in being lov'd, have nothing of incompatibility betwixt them. It is only a going in quest after Plea­sure more than one way, and arriving at it by two different Roads. They are two different Roads in­deed, reply'd Ovid, and no Man can ever so deceive himself, as to believe, that to arrive at the Elizium of Love, he must travel through the sordid Vail of a brutish voluptuousness. It is a rare way indeed to charm a Lady, to accost her with those nauseous and brain-sick Raptures, wherewith the drowsie Souls of the boon Companions, you mention, are al­wayes intoxicated? Would it not be a commendable excuse, think ye, when a Lady should desire her ser­vant to pay a double assiduity and diligence to her service, to oppose to her commands, a necessity of going to a Bacchanalian Rendevouz? And do you think, she would not have great reason to be highly satisfi'd with this obliging Compliment, I shall not see you to morrow; I must spend the whole day in drinking with my Friends: where I shall encounter a thousand pleasures, which as you are not capable to give me, you are not like to share with me; and some pleasant Table discourse, or other diversions, will abundantly supply the want of your company.

This satyrical raillery of Ovid, which he height­ned by his drolling way of delivering it, and the Princess Julia's seeming passionately to espouse his quarrel against me, did so nettle me, that I was re­solv'd to study a revenge. I knew he affected Tul­lia, and I found her a Person most worthy to be af­fected. I design'd, if it were possible, to disappoint him of the heart of that fair one. I was not igno­rant how sensible he would be of such a loss; and I was ambitious to demonstrate to him by convincing [Page 178] reasons, that ingenious Debauchery is not incon­sistent with the charms of Love.

I was acquainted with the Daughter of Cicero, as one is acquainted with Persons of Quality, whom they see in the Court either about the Empress, or the Princesses. I apply'd my self with all diligence to gain a more particular acquaintance with her. I endeavor'd to oblige her by my ready services, and the first occasion I encounter'd, was at the Feast of the Bacchanales, which was that year govern'd by my directions; I made all the Parts of it allude to that Proverb of Cicero,

And allegorizing to the sense of the Proverb, I caus'd a Cupid to be plac'd upon one side of Bacchus his Statue, and both of them to be mounted upon one triumphal Chariot. They seem'd to have made mutual Presents to each other; Cupid was crown'd with clusters of Grapes, and carried a great Glass in his hand, instead of his Bowe; and a great-belly'd Bottle serv'd him for a Quiver, for his Arrows, and Bacchus wore the Quiver and Bowe, which Cupid wanted. Divers young Maids, habited like Painters, representing the Menades and Graces, mix'd one among another, followed the Chariot, and with a disorderly kind of order exchang'd employs with each other. The Menades distributed amongst the People, those Gallantries, which it only belong'd to Love to bestow; and the Graces, officiously offer'd, to fill up full Glasses to any, that would receive them.

You were then upon your Voyage towards Sicily, my Lord, and since Ovid has not related to you the particulars of our Cor-rival-ship, you are ignorant perhaps of that, which happen'd at that Feast. Tullia publickly declar'd, that she was oblig'd to me, for giving so glorious a revive to the memory of her Fa­ther; and whether Ovid was desirous to put a flurr upon this favor of hers towards me or no, or only to railly me, I know not, but he compos'd a Poem, intituled, ‘LOVE IN A RAGE.’ Where feigning, that that God had fram'd Com­plaints against my Sacrilege, he made him thunder out severe Menaces and Imprecations against me.

He had carried this piece of Gallantry to Tullia's house, when she happen'd not to be at home; and had left it upon a Table in her Chamber, that she might find it at her return. I came thither a little after Ovid was gone; a young Slave, whom I had gain'd to my interests, told me, he had lately been there, and shew'd me the Paper he had left behind him. The indignation I conceiv'd to see my self so much abus'd, rais'd the choler of my Muse, and snatching up Pen and Paper, upon the same Title of Love in a Rage, I drew a draught of Ovid's incon­stancies. I folded up my Satyr, in the same form he had done his; I laid it upon the same Table; and just as I had finish'd my Cheat, Tullia came in.

Ovid usher'd her, and had told her by the way, as they came, that he had left in her Chamber, a new emergency of his extravagant fancy. She thought to have found, what he spoke of, in the Paper, which lay in the place of the other, and snatching it up ha­stily, began to read, [Page 180]

These first seven Verses were copy'd word by word out of Ovid's Paper, which he quietly gave at­tention to, but interrupted her at the eighth. You do not read right, Madam, said he, it is not

It is,

Read it your self, said Tullia interrupting him, and tell me, which most needs correction, your Memo­ry, or my Eyes. He took the Paper, and finding the Verses chang'd, was so surpriz'd, that he knew not what to say. Are you now satisfi'd, said Tullia, whether your Memory or my Eyes are most trea­cherous? Your Eyes are faithful Judges, reply'd Ovid, and my Memory has not betray'd me; but [Page 181] here is a Mystery, which I cannot unriddle. These words inflam'd the curiosity of Tullia, and taking the Paper out of his hand, she began again to read:

It is not without cause, said I, when Tullia had finish'd the reading the Verses, that Love is so much enrag'd against that Lover, since he appears to be guilty of so many enormous crimes. Those, re­ply'd Ovid, briskly intertupting me, who impose this Rage upon Love, are so little capable of under­standing him, that none ought to judge of his opini­on upon their inconsiderable testimonies. They were without doubt in an elevated vein, when they bel­ched forth this Satyr, which is the froth rather of the giddy fumes of a stumm'd bottle, than a just re­proach to Love. I know not what the persons are, you speak of, said I, without seeming at all to be mov'd, but methinks they have delineated so lively a draught of ingratitude, that they cannot be igno­rant of the opposite virtue, that they have Souls ca­pable of noble passions; and that if they have found so ingenious a way to divert a Mistriss, and destroy a Rival, the froth of the bottle, which has inspir'd this Art into them, seems to me to deserve a place a­mongst the most politick stratagems of Love. To divert a Mistriss, and destroy a Rival? said Ovid, Heavens! Can that sort of People aspire to so vain-glorious a conceit? Do they not understand, that living only for themselves, Women know not whether there are any such Animals in the World or no: That they regard their pretensions to Gallan­try, but like vanishing Dreams hatch'd in the capri­cio of an elevated brain; and that a tender Lover, [Page 184] would think he could not injure his Mistriss more, than to suspect, she could have the least complaisance for a person of that stamp. Be he of that stamp, or any other, said Tullia interrupting him, I agree with you, that a Lady, who has a pre-engagement upon her, will not easily yield a complaisance to a new A­mour; but if I had a Lover, I should not love to see him so much an Opiniator, as to think, nothing else could please me: I would have him suspicious of every thing, be jealous of the ingenuity of these Verses, apprehensive of some secret design in them, and in fine create to himself a thousand little cares and dangers upon Subjects of the least moment or probability. No Man upon earth, Madam, reply'd Ovid, comprehends the use and force of the cares and inquietudes you mention, better than my self. But a Lover, Madam, becomes oftentimes more crimi­nal, in applying them ill, than in not resenting them at all. We ought to understand the temper of the heart, we endeavor to charm; and if it be true, that Love derives its generous birth from the sympathy of Souls, the Person I suspect to be the Author of those Verses, I shall never triumph over a passionate and sensible Lover.

I could then neither refute this Prophecy, nor comprehend what Tullia thought of it; two or three of the Ladies, who were cited in the Verses, came to give Tullia a visit, who made an earnest sign to us, not to mention a word of the premises before them. But the day after, my little Intelligencer came and brought me a Letter, which she had gain'd by sur­prize from a young Grecian, who serv'd Tullia, and by whom she sent it to Ovid; I open'd it, and read the following Contents. [Page 185] ‘I begin now to be inroll'd in the number of your Cast Mistrisses, your inconstancy makes those ordina­ry toures; and you cannot longer love me, since Ho­race cannot make you jealous. My Women inform'd you, that he was two hours alone in my Chamber du­ring my absence; and you ought to have suspected, that he employ'd them in changing your Verses; and so apparent a design to undermine you in your negligent security you regard only as a Poetical vanity. Was it your part to make so weak a remark? and are you not asham'd to be fool'd into so easie a persuasion of that, which it is mine, to employ a thousand cares and stratagems to beget in you?’

I thought it not expedient to allow Tullia the lei­sure of making in Person these Reproaches to my Rival; I was doubtful of the success. Whereup­on I beg'd the favor of Cepion, who was our com­mon Friend, but much more mine, than Ovids, to take him along with him to Domitius's house, where he had design'd a Treat both of Munificence and Pleasure to entertain his Friends: and at this time, Tullia leaving Rome to spend some dayes at this Villa where now we are, I seconded the resentments which she had already conceiv'd against him, with a declaration of my own Passion for her. I had by a small gift or two above a month before, engag'd the Artificer to me, that made her Chariots; and I had experience of his Fidelity not long after; for, by design, her Chariot broke at the entrance into the Wood, which lies upon the right hand, as you come hither. I had caus'd a commodious Tent to be pitcht in that Wood, and prepar'd a Treat in readi­ness not improper for the occasion, which was at­tended with a Set of choice Musick; and all things [Page 186] falling out as successfully as I could desire, I was there at hand to help Tullia out of the perplexity she was embroil'd in. She was surpriz'd to meet on the Road with so unexpected an assistance. I told her, this was a preparation for one of those pleasant Debauches, which Ovid so often upbraided me with, that I waited for some of my Friends, with whom I had design'd to recreate my self that day; but that I was highly oblig'd to them for their negligence, since the Gods had sent me now much more agree­able company to supply their places; and just as I utter'd these last words, the Collation was serv'd in.

Tullia commended the elegancy of it, and told me, that if we made no other Debauches than those, Ladies might be proud to participate of them; we pretend, Madam, said I, so much to the honor of their companies at them, that they can afford us no real satisfaction, or gust, without them. But Ovid is an Heretick in our Mysteries, who never under­stood them in their purity. I have an ambition to present you with a true draught of them, which you will find far different from that you have already re­ceiv'd from him. I gave a sign to the Musick to strike up; which they obey'd by an harmonious, yet brisk preludium, that much reviv'd the spirits of Tullia, after her little disaster upon the Road, and was followed with a Consort of divers voices, which sung these Verses:

My Servants were order'd before to retire upon this Sign, and the Musick went on:

Tullia seem'd to be a little startled, when she saw all my Servants withdraw, and the sense of the last two couplets confirming her surprize; Oh! cry'd she out, I have now a clear prospect of your inten­tions; the hazard I now run of my reputation, and the breaking of my chariot, are too much to be sus­pected, not to give me a just apprehension of some design. Oh! Madam, suspected of what? said I, of an innocent design, of making you a passionate declaration of Love: Is this an attempt, which you ought to have a fearful apprehension of? You abuse the confidence, Horace, said Tullia, I was willing to repose in your Generosity; and had not I ingeni­ously suffer'd my self to be deceiv'd, when I was brought hither, you had not had now the opportu­nity of making Discourses to me, so void of discre­tion, or sincerity. Madam, I call the Gods to wit­ness, said I, I never made any in my life, so full of in­genuity and candor; and if you vouchsafe not to [Page 188] understand them so, you will do their Author a great injustice, who loves you more, than ever any person yet could pretend to love you. Neither the Corri­valship of so fam'd an Opposite, as Ovid, nor the Prerogative he may plead to Antiquity, have power to discourage me in so glorious an attempt. It is a whole Month, since I have snatch'd at all opportu­nities of opening this presumptuous Declaration at your feet; but the assiduity of my Rival has always countermined mine: till now Fortune has at last be-friended my languishing impatience, with this blest one out of his presence. Receive then the humble Petition of my Love, without rigor, or disdain; my Rival only comes to make repetitions with you, of what he has preach'd in the Closets of all the Ladies of Rome. His method of making Love can pretend now no longer to the charms of a surprize, or the glory of a first offering, which are advantages mine comes attended with into your service; and though you had no other design in allowing it a small apartment in some bie-corner of your heart, than presenting an Associate, to Love, of my quali­fications, he has presented you with Graces enough, to merit from you so generous an acknowledg­ment.

Just as I had ended my Discourse, Ovid surpriz'd us with his unexpected arrival, who having met (as he was coming from Domitius's) Tullia's Coach­man, who was return'd to Rome to provide another Carriage (for that which was broken) for his Coach, was inform'd by him of the accident which had happen'd to his Mistriss, and he was now come to compliment her escape. The circumstances he found her in, could not choose but give him an un­kind welcome. The Pavilion, under which we [Page 189] were, seem'd to be imboss'd all over with the em­broidery of divers-colour'd flowers; which joining their natural Perfumes with many other rich essen­ces, wherewith divers curious Jarrs and Caskets were fill'd, and plac'd in odoriferous ranks about it, seem'd to render it an Elizium, almost equal to that he had in his own Wo [...]ks prepar'd for happy Lo­vers. The Musick was some of the choicest, that belong'd to the Emperor; and the relicks of our Collation declar'd, that without vanity it might pre­tend both to Magnificence and Curiosity. But Ovid, who was not accustom'd to lose the possession of a heart, wherein he once had gain'd an interest, ima­gin'd that the passion he had for Tullia, was a suffi­cient security to assure him of the right he claim'd in hers: And when he understood she had receiv'd no hurt by the accident of her Chariot, he seem'd to have no more concern for any thing else, than when he us'd to find her alone in her Chamber: I was not wanting to make Tullia sensible of this cold­ness and insensibility of his; you see, Madam, said I softly in her ear, that the Protestations of Love, which are render'd you at a Debauch, are more sin­cere than those you are wont ro receive in your pri­vate Closet; your Chariot broke by an accident, which only expos'd you to the hazard of honouring this place a few hours with your glorious presence; and the Gods, by a special Providence, design'd me for your assistance. Ovid has surpriz'd us together, and is not jealous; but I, Madam, I am of his sha­dow only; and would willingly purchase at the too inconsiderable value of all that I am worth, the fe­licity of entertaining you one moment longer with­out such envious witnesses. Be you then, Madam, an impartial Judge, and declare, which in your opi­nion, [Page 190] merits the character of the most sincere and the most passionate Lover.

This discourse exasperated the thoughts of Tullia, which were already dispos'd to harbor a prejudice against Ovid, who had return'd no answer to her last Letter; and as she was ignorant of the cause, she im­puted that to him as a crime, which was only an ar­tifice of my Love. She beg [...]n to railly upon him af­ter a manner, which could not choose but trouble him, and I perceiv'd at that instant he was scarce able to digest it with patience. But he has since told Cepion (who related it to me again) that he con­quer'd that impulse of his disdain, as a frensie, which he thought would call his reason in question, to have shewn himself capable of it. How? said he to my Friend, could I imagine that a Soul, who had been train'd up by my Maxims to the Mysteries of Love, should be debauch'd by Horace? The Gods seem'd never to suffer me to awake in a Morning, but to re­count to my Mistriss the dreams they inspir'd into my fancy at Night, she finds that the devotion I have for her, causes me to pay a daily one to the tem­ple she frequents. She neither makes a visit, nor takes walk, whereat my diligent observance does not at­tend her. My regards, my discourses, the happy rap­tures of my Muse, all offer sacrifice to my Love; I neither think, nor act, but to improve its interest with her. Horace is a Libertine, whose whole life, like a Comical Representation, is divided only into divers Scenes, of Play, Banquets, Revels, Publick Spectacles, and other leud diversions. What leisure could he find to cultivate a Love-intrigue? or what frensie or capri­cio could invade Tullia, to prefer such a Rival before me? This capricio, if it might be call'd one, deriv'd its birth from the converse of that day, I now men­tion. [Page 191] Tullia has told me since, that she found the de­claration of my Love very singular; which I found means afterwards likewise to illustrate, with two or three Gallantries more, as unexpected, as the Treat in the Wood. We accompanied Tullia home to this Villa; for I understood, that her Chariot would return so late from home, that such a Convoy would not be unwelcome to her. At a convenient place upon the Road, she was encounter'd with a Troop of coun­terfeit Shepherds and Shepherdesses, with the sound of divers Countrey Instruments, with a kind of ru­stick triumph, conducted her home to her house; and some of them disguiz'd like Gypsies, danc'd be­fore her after the Gypsie-manner; and these diver­tisements employing her time before Supper, a Set of Comedians, who pretended they had lost their way, and beg'd entertainment there that night, took up most part of it, in representing the furies of Ajax.

I counterfeited the ignorant, and made protestati­ons that I was surpriz'd at these comick Novelties; but this was too course a spun web, to delude a judg­ment of Ovids perspicacity. He rag'd, he reproach'd Tullia, and interpreting her denial of having given the least consent, or encouragement to these rustical diversions a criminal dissimulation, he was almost ar­riv'd to that point of jealousie, as Tullia's wishes could have exacted from him; but as her innocence was wholly unworthy of his accusations, and he thought he discover'd the real marks of it in the motions of her countenance, he relaps'd into his old Lethargy, of a calm security and repose.

We return'd both together to Rome, where some commands of Mecoenas detain'd him much against his will, at the time of Tullia's sojourn in the Coun­trey. My diligence was not wanting to give that the [Page 192] colour of a negligence, which I knew to be a bare necessity; and redoubling my bounty and instructi­ons to the Slave I had gain'd to my devotion, I play­ed my game so well, that Ovid had no opportunity of justifying his long absence, nor Tullia of receiving any Letter from him; but was absolutely convinc'd, that he was the most cold and tepid Lover in the world. As this error and remissness of Ovid's Love gain'd strength daily in the imagination of Tullia to his prejudice, I endeavor'd as firmly to fix in it an opposite character of my own. There did not a day pass, during her absence from Rome, wherein I did not regale her with some novel diversion, or other. I found out a young Grecian, who had a most excellent voice and method in singing, and I presented her to her. I understood she had design'd a day of hunting with two or three Ladies more her Neighbours, I met them, as by accident, at their Rendevouz, with a Pack of Hounds, whose beauty and harmony far excell'd any they had with them; and having enter­tain'd them with that sport, in a greater perfection than they expected, I gave them a noble Treat, to refresh the pleasant toils they had undergone in the pursuit of it. These obliging Services, my Letters, my discourses, and the resentments of Tullia, which nei­ther the presence, nor diligence of Ovid endeavor'd to qualifie, wrought the effect I desir'd. In fine, my Lord, my suit was not displeasing to her; and the first alarum Ovid took of it, was from two or three Stro­phes, I had compos'd in the transports of a little de­bauch, which Tullia was pleas'd to honor with her presence. I shall repeat them to you, and you shall judge whither he had not some cause to be disturb'd. [Page 193]

I could wish, my Lord, you had been an eye-wit­ness of the astonishment of Ovid, when by the in­discretion of one of my Guests, he arriv'd to the knowledge of these Verses, and that Tullia was the Subject of them. He went immediately to give her a visit, and being neither able to give credit to the report of his own senses, nor even the testimony it self of our Mistriss; How, Madam? said he to her, Is Tullia the Object of Horaces intoxicated fan­cies? Did she command him to write Madrigalls for her? Was she sent, at the Bacchanalian Ceremony, when his Good-fellow Muse was dub'd her Lau­reate? In a word, Does she love Horace? What Mystery have you discover'd in this adventure, so worthy your admiration, reply'd Tullia? Have not the Gods been prodigal enough of their bounties towards Horace, to render him an Object amiable in the eye of our Sex? And am I the first of Women, whom his charms have surpriz'd? But, Madam, re­ply'd [Page 194] my Rival, I have long lov'd the adorable Tul­lia, and you have given me leave to believe, that I was not hated of her: But, said Tullia, you neither exprest a concern, nor jealousie towards your Ri­val; and Love cannot lodge in a breast, out of which those two sensible Guests are banish'd. Ah! Madam, exclaim'd that afflicted Lover, if that were the on­ly reason you could alledge for a ground of this ex­travagant severity, it would have long since vented it self in a thousand reproaches, and so ill-humor'd a converse have had its abortive birth long before this unhappy Minute: But you never lov'd me, a real Love does never terminate in so excentrick a Point; no, no, you are not unconstant, this pre­tended levity, is only the vizard-mark to your real dissimulation. What? have I studied hearts so long, to be ignorant of their character? Can a Mistriss, like a Bird out of its Cage, flie from me, and I not see which way she takes her flight? Love, ungrate­ful Love, get thee another Panegyrist, provide thee another Historian, I am no longer able to trace thee through thy mysterious Meanders, which are as blind as thy self; or, I should more properly say, that thy chiefest Mysteries, are nothing now, but mystick Chimera's. It is in Horace's power to leave Ovid destitute of a Mistriss; thou hast no longer establi­shed Laws to govern by, since Fortune sits at the Helm, and steers at her pleasure the Fate of Mor­tals.

Agrippa found this Exclamation so pleasant, that he was forc'd to interrupt Horace with a loud Fit of laughter; I am so well acquainted, said he, with Ovid's transports, that, as much a Friend as I am to his concerns, I believe, as you say, his affliction would have prov'd my diversion, had I been a witness to it.

It is not possible, my Lord, reply'd Horace, to re­present to you the pleasant extravagancy of it. He thought that the whole Adventure, had been only the abortion of a delusive Dream; he came to me, and ask'd me seriously, if it were true, that Tullia lov'd me; and whether it were not only a Project to render me more obsequious and circumspect for the future; but when, by the air of my countenance, and the cold reception he found from her, he was convinc'd, that I had usurp'd the Throne, he had been so long in possession of, he vented his rage in such vollies of imprecations, as better deserv'd to be inserted in his Work, than all his Elegies.

Horace could no longer dilate himself on the cir­cumstances of his triumphs; for one of Agrippa's Servants came to advertise his Lord, that he thought the Emperor expected his attendance. They found him with the Ladies in a spacious Meadow, whose flowry head reposing it self betwixt two chrystal Arms of Tyber, was crown'd with a rich Ballister of white Marble. The Emperor had purposely drawn all the company to that place, to the end they might not discover, that which was preparing to entertain them in another; and having detain'd them there until the evening, he on a sudden surpriz'd them with the most delightful object their eyes were ca­pable of.

All Tullia's house seem'd to be inclos'd in a case of stars, compos'd by an infinite number of torches, which cover'd it over, that it resembled a Flaming Castle, rais'd there extempore, by the force of some Magical Enchantment. The inter-spaces betwixt the lights were form'd with red canvas, stamp'd with divers figures, which by the reflexion of tor­ches plac'd behind it, represented so many flaming [Page 196] Prospects. The Walk of the Gardens were fill'd with Pyramids, and Figures, rais'd by the same arti­fice. And from the top of a high Turret, which crown'd the House, at a certain sign the Emperor caus'd to be given, a thousand hissing Dragons and Serpents took their flight into the clouds, which on every side presented, to the astonish'd eyes of the Spectators, the glorious name of Terentia in cha­racters of fire and flames.

But yet this Wonder was no Miracle. The pow­er of Monarchs, as great as it is, must subscribe to the Laws of Impossibility: For Caesar had only apply'd that to this occasion, which he had long before prepar'd for another; But the Mystery being unknown to the Ladies, Oh! Sir, cry'd Terentia, the Heavens employ themselves on all occasions to work Miracles for you, and they have certainly some supernatural design in this they here represent unto us. It is rather you, Madam, reply'd the amorous Caesar, who are so precious to the care of the Gods, as being the greatest Miracle in the whole Catalogue of their Works, who has oblig'd them to Present us with this Scene of Wonders. The Gods, reply'd Terentia, do indeed accumulate with their favors, when the hands of the mighty Caesar vouchsafe to distribute them to me.

These discourses, or the like, having entertain'd them, till they came to a large Portal, which con­ducted them into a fair Hall, they past into it un­der an odoriferous Arch fram'd with the beautiful­lest Flowers, and richest Greens the Universe could afford, where a Table attended them, laden with the variety of the choicest rarities, wherewith nature could furnish it. A Ball, worthy the Magnificence of Caesar, concluded this Royal Treat, perform'd by [Page 197] that illustrious Company in a Room wainscoted all round with Looking-glasses of the purest Chrystal, which multiplying the Gallantry of so many noble Objects, exhibited divers representations of that, which at that time was singular in the Uni­verse.

The unexpected Arrival of Aurora, who, ambi­tious to be a Spectatrix of so glorious a Triumph, peep'd in upon them at the Window, prorogued this illustrious Convention: Ten or twelve light Chari­ots richly gilt and figur'd, convey'd them back to Rome; Caesar and Terentia mounted one: The Prin­cess and Marcellus, by his command, were plac'd in another: Tullia, (who would wait upon her noble Guests to the Gates of the City) Fulvia, Varentilla, Agrippa, Horace, the Princesses Maids of Honor, and the Officers of Caesar's Train, sorted themselves, ei­ther according to their quality or inclination, whil'st Virgil alone, preferring the devoires of an entire friendship, before all the triumphs and delights Tul­lia's house could satiate him with, follow'd Corne­lius to Tusculum, whither the presence of Caesar had oblig'd him to retire.

He was fallen into disgrace with Caesar, and had receiv'd a command from him, to absent himself from his presence for ever. He went to Rome to make an humble Address, and was desirous to in­terest Terentia in his Suit: And to confer with her, he had follow'd her to Tullia's Villa; but the Em­perors Arrival had prevented his design; and oblig'd him, as I said before, to retire to some neighbouring place.

When he saw Virgil, he began to oppose himself, as earnestly as he could, against this demonstration of his generosity and friendship. Return, return, [Page 198] said he, my dear Virgil, to the place where I thought I had left you; and affect not the company of an unfortunate Wretch, whose disgrace may prove con­tagious. Sovereigns love to see the Acts of their Indignation authoriz'd by the Suffrages of Persons of Honesty and Honor; and you cast a reproach up­on Caesar, when you conserve a kindness for a Man, whom his displeasure has condemn'd to his eternal hatred. Virgil is not a person so considerable in the Empire, reply'd Virgil, as to deserve to have Spies to attend his Actions, or Excursions. The Policy, you speak of, concerns only such, as either by their Birth, or Employs, are destin'd to stand, as living Examples, before the People. And what in a Person of that Remark and Quality would be held for a necessary Prudence, would be condemn'd as a ridiculous Vanity in one of mine. Your Honor is dazled by your Modesty, said Cornelius, and you are doubtless more considerable in the Opinion of Caesar, than your own. The Fame of a Poet is oftentimes as necessary to signalize the glory of Heroes, as their own virtue; And those, who now admire the Valor of Achilles, had perhaps never heard of his Name, had not the Pen of Homer eterniz'd it. These kind of Flatteries, said Virgil, intoxicates the Reason, and by asses the Pens of the greatest part of Authors; who fansie themselves to be the Authors indeed of the Fate and Destiny of Heroes and Princes, and murmur against the small regard the World has of their Merits, as a most criminal Injustice. But to frame a right judgment of things, what do we serve for? In what are Princes oblig'd to us? There was never yet a Poet so audacious, as to arraign the Vi­ces of his Prince living, and with his Scepter in his hand, at the Bar of Parnassus; and the justest Prai­ses [Page 199] he bestows upon him, are suspected of flattery and vain-glory. The contempt, or approbation of great Ones, does either depress, or elevate our works; and we sing in vain their glorious Gests, if the Pub­lick Memoires give us the Lye. These considerati­ons alone, ought in my judgment, to degrade a flat­tering Scribler of all Favor with his Prince, who may acquire more true glory, than his purest Ink can fix upon him, by rewarding him for those good inten­tions he stands in no need of. I would have a Per­son of Integrity be just to himself in the first place, give each action its due character, and without sha­ping one, as much for his own advantage, as his Princes, consider, that he stands accountable for the Power, the Gods have invested him with, to none but themselves, from the first Minute they rank'd him amongst Crowned Heads. Would it had plea­sed Heaven, cry'd Cornelius, to have imprinted this Maxim in my Soul! I had then still been in possession of my Emperors good grace, and the Government he honor'd me with. But the lustre of my place, from whence I stood towring over the heads of other Mortals, did so dazle the eyes of my under­standing, that I could not discern the track, by which I climb'd the dangerous Precipice: and without considering, that not like the Sun, I was my self the Author of those Rayes, which my Greatness darted from its glorious Orb, it appear'd so bound­less to me, that I persuaded my self it was absolute and independent. And whil'st a just apprehension contain'd me within the limits of my duty, I set such a value upon my services, and esteem'd them so important, that I fancy'd they might challenge that injustice for their reward, which was the sole [Page 200] effect of Caesar's bounty. But, said Virgil, interrupt­ing him, what caus'd you to commit so grand an oversight? The Emperor has alwayes testify'd so great a kindness for you, that though the Gods had not destin'd him both for yours, and the Worlds Master, a Maxim of pure gratitude only ought to have fix'd all your endeavors to his service.

THE HISTORY OF CORNELIƲS GALLƲS.

LOVE, my dear Virgil, reply'd Cornelius, is a weakness, which has always triumpht over the strongest resolutions of the greatest Heroes: That alone has been the Author of my Crime; and from what alone I hope a pardon. You have heard me discourse formerly of a fair Slave, which belonged to the Philosopher Volumnius, and was made free by him, named Cytheris, whom you ce­lebrated, in one of your Ecclogues, under the name of Licoris; and who, I told you, accompa­nied Mark Antony, when the Male-content took his last farewel of Rome.

I have often since declar'd to you, with what an incredible grief I entertain'n the news of her flight; and you your self were so sensibly toucht therewith, that in one of your Poems, you made your Muse the chief Mourner of the dolorous obse­quies of my Love; which ought not in justice to have been so effeminate, since I was only depriv'd of the sight of an Object, which I could not choose, [Page 202] but adore; for as to a passion, or inclination to­wards any other person, she was wholly incapa­ble of it; and her Soul was as insensible of the Flames of Antony, as of mine.

But yet my jealousie could not be convinc'd of the contrary; and the scorn and indignation, I conceiv'd at the thoughts of anothers being pre­ferr'd before me, join'd to the busie Employs of the charge Caesar had conferred upon me, in a short time banisht the Idea of Cytheris so perfectly out of my breast, that methought no part of it lurkt behind to keep an unquiet possession.

She was now longer the grief of my eyes, or of my thoughts. I eagerly followed my Sports and Recreations, and without distraction, dedicated my self to the employs of my Charge. Which one day oblig'd me to assist in person at a Survey, which was taken along the Nilus, for the the fa­cilitating the famous inundation of its fertile Streams: when one of my people came to me, and told me, that in one of the inhabitable Islands, with which that River is chequer'd all over, was heard the accent of an human Voice; and askt me if it were my pleasure, that some one or other, should go and inform himself of the truth of it.

The person that brought me this intelligence, wanted not ability for a more important employ; but a secret curiosity, the cause whereof I was ignorant of, possest me with a desire, to go and make it my self. I took a Bark, and boarded the Island; when I was strangely surpriz'd, for the first Object my eyes were fixt on, was to encounter that same Cytheris, for whom I had had so ardent and so ineffectual a Passion.

She was a little impair'd in her Beauty; and five or six years space, wherein I had not seen here, is able to change the air of any countenance; but my Heart, through my eclips'd Eyes, discover'd her. A sudden transport of joy and fear, which at the same moment invaded my Soul, suggested to me, that it was Cytheris, whom I beheld.

What new Theseus? cry'd I out, or rather what inhuman Tyger, has abandon'd you in this inhos­pitable Desart? Durst Mark Antony commit so bar­barous a Crime? Or Cleopatra so imperious a cruel­ty, as to lay such commands upon her effeminate Paramour. And could the tame Gods hold their revengeful Thunder in their hands, and behold the Sacriledge? Mark Antony, reply'd Cytheris, inter­rupting me with a fair look, has not been the Ar­biter of my destiny; I effected it my self, and shall pursue it to the uttermost period of my life. Ah! Cytheris, said I, ingratude never merited before such glorious expressions. It was enough for you to play the cruel thief, to rob me of my Heart, and carry it in triumph after that Ingrate, without interdicting me the just liberty of reproaching his infidelity. Yqu never had a perfect knowledge of me, reply'd Cytheris coldly; and your suspitions now are as imperfect, as that was before. I did not follow Mark Antony; he did not abandon me; and if I had been capable of such a weakness for one of the two, perhaps I should not have mani­fested it in his favor: But a certain repugnance, which at first seem'd to have no real foundation, and which since I have discover'd too just grounds for, caus'd me to regard the prosecution of your Amour, as a most troublesome persecution. It was that I fled from; against that did I endeavor to find a San­ctuary. [Page 204] Come, my Lord, Come and take a view of that, the gods have here assigned me, and suffer me quietly to enjoy without the distra [...]ion, or turbulent cares of the restless World; which con­sideration may perhaps convince you, that the love of Wisdom is the sole Passion my Soul has been sen­sible of.

As she uttered these last words, she conducted me by a little path, to the most pleasant solitude I ever beheld. The Trees of one continued Wood, which extending their spacious Arms to each other, like one large Umbrella, cover over the surface of the whole Island, seem on purpose to open them in in this place, to frame a delightful Walk for Na­tures diversion; which declining by an insensible descent, invites you into a pleasant Meadow, equal­ly divided in the middle by the rapid streams of a Christal Torrent. Flora, which seem'd to have chosen it for her rustick Nursery, had enamell'd it all over with a sort of wild, yet beautiful Flowers, not common in those parts of Egypt; and the in­dustry of a certain old Man, who with Cytheris, and one person more, were both the Subjects, and Sovereign of this charming Desart, had furnish'd it with all necessaries for the support of human life. There were two or three Cabins, which seeming to be built, more by advice of Nature than Art, with green Boughs and Branches, made but a weak resistance against the inclemency of the Air. There were likewise Beasts both wild and domestick; and a small Tract of Land, which cleansed from Weeds, and other trash, furnish'd this little Family with Corn, and all other Field, and Garden Provisions.

I fancied my self to be in one of those inchant­ed places, describ'd by the Poets; and looking [Page 205] sometimes upon Cytheris, and then upon the old Man (who taking no notice of me, follow'd, I know not what pudling employment he was then about) I began to rub my eyes, like one, who would endeavor to clear them of some cloud or mist, that was before them.

You seem to be surpriz'd, my Lord, said Cythe­ris, observing my astonishment, to see that a trea­sure as this, lying even in the centre of your Go­vernment, and almost at the Gates of Alexandria, should escape your knowledge; To enjoy this with­out disturbance or contradiction, was it, that I re­nounc'd the pompous slavery, you offer'd me at Rome, and not to follow your Rival. Here neither the rise nor the fall of Empires, creates in my Soul the passions of joy or sadness. Here my liberty is neither attackt by fortune, nor love, and I breath the air of this [...]nhospitable Climate, perhaps with more true satisfaction, than you in all your glory, do that of Alexandria. Here I make a sweet expe­riment, that the Gods with a prodigal hand shower down all those blessings upon Man, that may ren­der him happy, when man is so prudent, as to li­mit his desires within the bounds of of their li­berality.

This excellent discourse begat in me such tran­sports of love and admiration, that I had not the power to Master them. I gave her a thousand tender embraces within my incircling Arms; And oh! most divine Creature, said I, worthy the ado­rations of the whole Universe, Come and restore to it that Miracle, this solitude has unjustly rob'd it of. You merit all the Empires of the World, but the Emperor, who has the power to Inthrone you in them, wanting the perfect knowledge of that Vir­tue, [Page 206] which may entitle you to them; Come at least and represent in Alexandria the person of a glori­ous Empress; Come and reign an absolute Sove­reign over him, who reigns with absolute authori­ty over the Subjects of the Ptolomies. No, no, said Cytheris to me, thrusting me from her with her hand, If the pleasure of the gods had design'd me for the place, you propose, they would have elevated me to it themselves; and so establish'd my Ancestors in it, that a just descent should have conferr'd it upon me, had they not judged this con­dition more happy for me, to which they have now reduc'd me. I have spoken to you only yet in the quality of a Lover, answer'd I, but now you compel me to speak to you, in the quality of the Praetor of Egypt; which obliges me to see Justice duly ex­ecuted in this Province; and I should infringe this duty, should I suffer a barbarous Island to entomb alive a person, whose virtues declare to me, that she came into the World only to command it. Both as a Lover and a Praetor, said Cytheris, interrupting me, you ought to submit to my will. Love is never unaccompanied with submission, and the Praetor of Egypt has no jurisdiction over a person of my Birth.

I was very importunate with Cytheris to draw her out of her Solitude, or at least a clearer dis­covery out of her, of her intentions. But I was not able to move her to grant either of my requests: she desir'd me to return again to Alexandria, whi­ther I carry'd my new re-inkindled Flame, which broke forth with such violence, out of the embers it had bhen so long smothered in, that it was im­possible for me to stay there above a day or two, without taking a second Voyage to see her. She [Page 207] shew'd me all the ordinary employs with which she did divert herself. Volumnius, as you know, is a person generally accomplisht with all Sciences: who finding the Soul of Cytheris capable to receive all those noble tinctures, he had a desire to infuse in­to it, he had render'd her an absolute Mistris in all Philosophical erudition. It was this, which I found so charming in her, when first I began to have a passion for her; and which oblig'd Volum­nius to enfranchise her. To this excellent orna­ment she had many others; and had as great a care of her education, as if her Birth had been known to him. She spoke naturally the Greek Tongue; play'd gracefully upon two or three instruments; limm'd and embroder'd in perfection; And the old Man that was with her, had procur'd all ne­cessaries for her, to keep those admirable Talents in practice.

Do you not think, said she to me, that these employs are sufficient to entertain with satisfacti­on and delight the whole course of that momenta­ry being, allow'd us here on Earth? And do you believe, that the glories and pleasures of your Rome, or Alexandria, are more really pleasures and glo­ries, than those I enjoy in this solitude? Worldly diversions are the same to the Soul, that shows, or spectacles are to the Eyes. They draw it af­ter them, tire it, but not revive it; they always leave a vacuum in it, which they cannot fill; and as they continually distract it with new desires, so do they banish from it all peace and tranquility. But, Cytheris, cry'd I, transported with an admi­ration of her virtue, how could you, being both of a Sex and Age so tender, arrive so early to consi­derations so solid? And having attain'd them, cul­tivate [Page 208] them in so wild a School as this is? Every person, reply'd the discreet Cytheris, has inherent in himself those necessary principles, by which he may attain to Wisdom. The skilfullest Artificer commits faults enough in his Art, to convince him, he is not infallible; yet those faults themselves lead him to perfection. Allow a man of that degree, modesty, and a desire of knowledge, and you shall render him wise in his Element. All other sttates of life, furnish those, that are in them, with the like advantages. For my own particular, I have experien­ced two or three different conditions; I was born a Slave, nor knew I, till after my Enfranchisement, hew far my birth ought to have been remov'd from so inglorious an obscurity. From whence I learnt, that slavery is no real evil, since I supported it with­out regret; and an illustrious descent no real good, since I possest it, and yet was not sensible of it. Antonies love was a long time the sole felicity of Cleopatra, but not of Cytheris: And why? because that kind of love has no real commerce with true felicity: if it had, it would have wrought its ef­fects in me, as well as in the Egyptian Queen; but the extravagant imagination and fancy of that Prin­cess, caus'd her to regard that, as a great good, which mine represented to me, as a greater evil; and those kind of imaginations do create the great­est part of the felicity, or infelicity incident to Mortals. Possess them with the charming sweet­ness of a private life, and this▪ mediocrity shall render them more happy than the dazling lustre of Crowns and Scepters: Place before them for their Object, Honors and Dignities, and they shall become the prey of an insatiable Ambition. I have made it a long time my chief study, to combat [Page 209] within my self this capricious folly, and I find, that a Sovereign Power, is not so real a felicity, as a power within ones self, to regard the loss of it without regret. Ah! Madam, said I, (for I made no scruple now to give her that title) tell me I be­seech you, from what glorious height you have stoopt to this humble disguise, that I may pay my due adorations to that virtue, which causes you to despise it. The state of my present being, is sub­ject to great revolutions; fortifie it therefore with some eminent example, that if occasion should re­quire, may prove an Antidote for me against the envious Malice of never constant fortune.

I judg'd by the motion of Cytheris her counte­nance, that she was about to satisfie my curiosity, when her companion came in haste to tell her, that Ambiorix (which was the old Mans name) was stung with a venemous Serpent: and that from the knowledge he had of such kind of wounds, he concluded he had not two hours to live. Cytheris grew pale, and running with great distraction to the Cabin of Ambiorix (whither I follow'd her) Oh! my dear Father, said she to him, What mis­fortune has arriv'd to you? Is it as fatal as Phila causes me to apprehend? And is it possible the gods will deprive me of your assistance and conduct? What name was that I heard you pronounce, my Lord? said Virgil, interrupting him; Was it not the name of Phila? I, reply'd Cornelius, the per­son, who together with Cytheris and Ambiorix, in­habited that Island, was so call'd. Oh! my Lord, added Virgil, speak I beseech you, Was not this Maid an Athenian? And did not the Orator Anti­ochus her Father, to elude the effect of some predi­ctions, which were denounc'd to him, cause her to [Page 210] be privately convey'd into Sicily; And did she not under the name of Plautia, make some sojourn in Rome?

She is the same, you speak of, reply'd Cornelius, and whom you so lately mention'd in your recital of Milo's Adventure. She gain'd an acquaintance with Cytheris in the house, from whence we late­ly came; where Cicero detain'd her, as a prisoner, to force her consent to marry him; and near which, his neighbor Volumnius had another. Cytheris put­ting on resolutions, to quit Rome, for the conside­rations before-named; Plautia conjur'd her to give her leave to accompany her. They came into E­gypt; and this conformity of their fortunes, has combin'd them together in the bonds of so firm an Amity, that they are still together in some part of the World, which my most curious search can­not discover.

Oh! my Lord, cry'd Virgil, let us travel the whole Universe in quest of this place. I can no longer lend attention to your discourse; and can enjoy no felicity in any part of my life, but that I shall dedicate to the search of Phila.

Would it might please the Gods, said Cornelius, pursuing his discourse, that at the expence of never seeing my self more in the good grace of Caesar, I might hope for a fortunate success of so glorious a quest: I would this very minute commence it; but it has cost me already so many toilesome and unprofitable steps, that I dare not any more at­tempt it. Yet I request you, not to defer to de­clare the reasons you have to express so tender a concern for Phila; and I shall willingly refer the rest of my Relation to another season.

Finish it, I pray you, my Lord, reply'd Virgil, [Page 211] I beg your pardon for having interrupted it; I was not Master of my sudden transport; but my rea­son has now re-assumed its Seat, and I entreat you to tell me, what became of the wound of Ambiorix. It prov'd mortal, as he himself foresaw, said Cor­nelius; and before it wrought its last inevitable ef­fect, he made a declaration to Cytheris, which, though it charm'd not my Love, yet it charm'd my Ears: I shall not represent to you, Madam, said he, that your birth challeng'd for your Grandfather, the renowned King Viridomare, which so long de­fended the liberty of the Gaules, against the usur­pation of the Roman Tyranny: These considerati­ons infuse generally more vanity than true wisdom; and he can entitle himself to essential Virtue, that can only claim it from his Ancestors. But I con­jure you to remember, that the Gods have endu'd you with a firmity of courage, and a solidity of judgment above the ordinary capacity of your Sex: That they have bestow'd this Blessing upon you, not without mystery or design; and that they will exact from you a severe account of the Talents, they have given you. I made a faithful promise to the last of the Race, of the Viridomares, your Father, and my Master, to instill into your tender Soul, these laudable Principles. And now I shall dye with satisfaction, since I have so fortunately acquitted my self of my devoir; but yet I have done nothing, unless you crown it with a glorious perseverence. Establish the repose of my Soul af­ter my death, by an invincible magnanimity; con­serve your self always in such a state of Virtue, that you may be always a glory and satisfaction to your self; And above above all, Remember to keep this Maxim for ever engrav'd in the center [Page 212] of your Heart, that you ought to be the Heir of the Sacred, and inveterate hatred of the Viridomares against the barbarous Romans; and that upon this condition, and no other, you receiv'd from your dying Father, that Benediction, which Heaven has decreed should propagate the felicity of Children upon Earth.

These last words concluded his life, and cast Cytheris into an affliction, scarce to be imagin'd, much less expressed. The eminent danger to which this misfortune expos'd her, alone, destitute of all relief, or succor, in a wild Desart; and the sug­gestions of Phila, who represented to her, that af­ter the death of Ambiorix, she ought not to make a longer sojourn in it, without calling her discre­tion and honor in question, caus'd her to embrace a resolution of seeking another Sanctuary. I invited her to a house of pleasure, which some of the Ptoleme­an Kings had built some few miles distant from Alex­andria, and the Governors of Egypt had preserv'd for their own. There I learnt of her, that after the death of King Viridomare, who was slain by Marcellus in a single Combat, the Prince his Son, whose Daughter she was, had rov'd a long time from Kingdom to Kingdom, to implore their aid to reco­ver his own; and seeing that he courted it in vain, he had, contrary to the custom of that Nation, ap­ply'd himself to the study of Philosophy; That he had made choice of Egypt for his retirement; be­cause learning flourish'd no where then, but in Greece and Egypt, and he was too well known in the first of the two. That his Queen, who was then great with Child, travelling under the Con­duct of Ambiorix, to find him out, had been en­countred by a party of the Roman Troops, who [Page 213] made her a Slave, and sold her to Volumnius. That her Father had arriv'd to the knowledge of her death, without knowing any thing of her being safely discharged of the Burden she went with; and that being most most sensibly toucht with this last misfortune, he had confin'd the mournful Re­licks of his life to that Solitude, from whence I had lately drawn Cytheris. That a few days be­fore his death, he had been inform'd by a Slave, which Volumnius us'd oftentimes to send to search the Islands of Nilus, for Plants, whose Virtue he was desirous to experiment, That his Wife had left a Daughter behind her, and that Volumnus had caus'd her to be educated with great care and af­fection; and that dying, he had strictly charg'd Ambiorix to omit no endeavors for the regaining his Daughter out of the power of the Romans.

Ambiorix had with fidelity acquitted himself of this Commission, as I have told you; and fortune so ordering it, that Cytheris should take her secret flight out of Rome, the same day that Mark Antony left it, swelling with revenge and discontent, I was possest with a jealousie, that Cytheris had ac­company'd. I am oblig'd hourly to pay the Gods a million of thanks, Madam, said I to her, when she had ended her discourse, that the veneration and zeal, you express for executing the last com­mands of your Father, has conducted you into a Province, where my duty obliges me to reside, and gives me now the opportunity to beg your leave to make a new Present to you of that fidelity and service, I devoted to you from the first minute I beheld you. The veneration, said Cytheris, which you interpret to be so favourable to you, includes more than one consideration; and if that which [Page 214] chac'd me out of Rome, flatters your desires; that which fixes me to a due resentment of my Fa­thers Commands, forbids me to accept the faith of a Roman. You have made too admir'd a pro­gress, Madam, said I, in the School of Science, to be ignorant, that such resentments are unjust. Hate the memory of Marcellus, who, in giving that mor­tal wound to the King your Grandfather, gave the first to your dishonor: Hate the name of Julius Cae­sar, who in conquering the Gaules, depriv'd you of the succor of all your Allies. But what Crime have I perpetrated? I that was not in being, when those Wars began, & who have ever ador'd you with a most pure and ardent Passion? This Passion, re­ply'd Cytheris, cannot work a Miracle, and make you no Roman, nor me not a Princess of the Gaules; these two qualifications include a formal contradi­ction to all your desires. The same contempt your Senate affects for the alliance of Queens, do I harbor for all that is not of a Blood Royal. The contempt you harbor, answer'd I, ought now to be extinct, in all the Nations of the earth. For as now there are none, that do not acknowledge the Power of the Roman Eagles, there are none, that have not espou­sed the Maxims of their Empire, and we see more Kings sollicite now for the honor of her Adoption, than we saw before dispute her Sovereignty. Those Kings did not descend from Viridomare, said Cythe­ris; if they had, they would have held their Au­thority and Honor more sacred. And if you desire from me a sincere declaration of my thoughts, I have alwayes had an esteem for your person; I am not insensible of the proofs and marks of your af­fection; and but too sensible of the despicable state, to which Fortune has reduc'd me, to fansie my self [Page 215] in a capacity to reject the meanest dignity; yet Roy­al Blood can never forget the channel from whence it flows; and I should disdain the Nephew of Au­gustus himself, should he be offer'd me, under the title of a simple Citizen.

These words, were so many mortal wounds, both to my Fortune, and my Reason; and though Cy­theris pronounc'd them, to no other end, than to extinguish my ambitious hopes, yet I imagin'd they taught me the infallible way to triumph over her. I caus'd my self to be serv'd in the same state, as for­merly the ancient Kings of Egypt had been; I as­sum'd their Habit, I commanded my Statue to be erected in divers places of the City, and in fine, com­mitted all those Follies, which have so justly irritated Caesar's indignation against me.

Cytheris beheld the first Sallies of my extravagan­cies with grief, and employ'd all her power to re­strain them. But the first error was succeeded by a second. I saw her so sensible of the danger, into which I precipitated my self, that I hop'd she would endeavor its prevention, by favoring my desires: and intoxicated with this frenzy, I gave an effuse rein to my criminal audacities. Cytheris observing how I daily run from one extravagancy into ano­ther, was willing, I suppose, to stop the mouth of all censures, that might impeach her, of having con­tributed to them; and so stole one night privately away with Phila, and left me plung'd into the deepest abyss of despair.

I demanded her from those that could not restore her, and threatned such as I suspected, had convey'd her away. I employ'd in her quest that diligence and authority, Caesar himself would not have made use of, but on some special occasion for the service [Page 216] of the Empire; I exercis'd unjust cruelties upon such, as I sent after her, and did not bring her back to me. What shall I express more to you, my dear Virgil? I lov'd even to distraction, and I have lost for ever the glorious object of my hopes. My passion is not unknown to Caesar, and perhaps when he shall understand by Terentia, that Love alone has been the Author of my Offences, he may grant it a Pardon, for what a formal and design'd Rebellion could not expect one.

The end of Cornelius's Relation, had brought them just to the Gates of Tusculum; where he im­portunately sollicited Virgil to acquaint him with the cause of that transport he had observ'd in him, when he nam'd Phila in his discourse. But such important Concerns occur to us in Rome, that they summon us thither; and we must awhile defer to make it appear, that Virgil did not discourse of Love with such eloquence, without having had some ex­perience of its effects.

THE HISTORY OF Crassus.

YOU need not employ either Promises, or Me­naces, reply'd Crassus, to oblige me to make the Declaration you desire; for perhaps my concern and impatience is no less to publish it, than yours to hear it.

I shall not entertain you, with the repetition of the first beginnings of my Love, which is as ancient, as my Reason, and has been devoted to Terentia from the first moment my eyes, or it, were capable of being Judges of Beauty: but my Admiration never took its just Measures, till at the Marriage of Domitius.

You remember, doubtless, that it was celebrated at Preneste, where the Emperor treated the whole Court three dayes together: you withdrew your self one evening from the rest of the Company, and came to take the Air with Terentia into a Garden, where, of one of the closest Walks I was possest be­fore your Arrival, I did not understand your first dis­course, [Page 221] but as you pass'd under a thick quick-set, which did separate us, I heard you say to Terentia.

You do me wrong, I never lov'd you more, than at this present; but do you not know that all things have their season? This, too day, is justly due to the visible transports of Domitius: and he would commit an offence both against Caesar, and common custom, should he on the day of his Marriage with the Daughter of Octavia, express a coldness or in­differency. A few dayes hence the same custom will oblige him to another deportment, not but that he might be the Master hereafter of as much real Love, as at the present, but he could not again have the same opportunity to signalize and applaud the manifestation of it; And nothing is more scanda­lous to the eyes of indifferent Persons, than to see a Husband, who might command all seasons to testi­fie his kindness to his Wife, affect to make choice of the Publick. Why this Policy, and why these Pre­cautions, said Terentia, interrupting him; Is Conju­gal Love a Monster? And is it not a Crime that de­serves the loudest reproach, to see a Husband draw a Curtain betwixt the eyes of the World, and his kindness for his Wife, and open it to let in that of anothers? And ought that Love, which both Hea­ven and Honor render legitimate, to be more shame­fac'd, than that which both Honor and Heaven de­clare to be impudent? No, no, Mecoenas, we ought not to accuse Custom for so grand an Abuse: The levity of Husbands is fed from a Spring, which [...] within the Confines of their own Leudness; and [...] they establish those Laws at one time, which they abolish at another, it is because their imaginations inspire them with those Idea's before possession, which vanish as soon as their appetites are sur­feited.

You labor'd, as I remember, by a thousand en­dearing Arguments to refute her jealousie, and using a thousand Caresses to plead for you, that her re­proaches were unjust, you drew from her expressions so tender, and so passionate, that like Parthian Darts, flying backwards, they wounded the heart they were not level'd at. I felt unusual motions, and being seiz'd at the same instant both with a trouble and transport, I had never been acquainted with be­fore, I stay'd a long time after you in the Garden, out of which I came the most Amorous of all Men living.

You encourag'd this Phrensie the next day, in a Treat you dedicated to the same Domitius, and the most noble of the young Roman Knights; I was one of the number, and I could not forbear to express my admiration, that Terentia had the goodness to honor it and us with her presence. Pray do not name a Wife, at this time, said you to me, and call to our Memory those Devoirs, which the liberty of this Assembly ought to efface out of it. When I am amongst you, I imagine, that what is permitted you, is not prohibited me. I give the rein to my Fro­licks, I speak and act without constraint: And your expressions admonish me, that I ought to be more reserv'd. What injury does my Mirth do you? Alas! why do you endeavor to put it out of humor, by upbraiding it with the names of Husband and Wife?

[...]was not the sole Person in the Company, that [...]us'd her quarrel against you, and told you, that such a Wife as Terentia, ought alwayes to be the fixed Object of your thoughts. This opposition exasperated you, and you made a Satyrical Invective against Marriage and its dependences. Not one of [Page 223] your Arguments escap'd my memory; and the next day I fram'd a Dialogue in Verse, which I intituled, THE JƲSTIFIY'D WIFE; wherein I demonstrated, that the tepidity of Husbands did au­thorize and justifie the levity and infidelity of their Wives towards them. I never pretended to a Talent in writing, but that of Poetry, is one of the first Miracles, Love works in us. Terentia finding these Verses in one of her Pockets, into which I had privately convey'd them, and reflecting that Ovid had the day before sustain'd the same Maxims at Sulpicia's, conceited him to be the Author of them. She found him at the Princess Julia's Apartment, whither I had the honor to wait upon her; where she told him railingly, that he was formidable enough to Husbands in the merit of his own Person, with­out the addition of his poysonous Maxims. Ovid, who call'd to mind the late conversation he held at Sulpicia's, was oblig'd to make a direct Answer to Terentia's imputation: which, the more it was prest upon him, the greater confusion it involv'd him in: For the same Morning he had sent Sulpicia a Copy of Verses on the same Subject. And thinking that she had lent them to Terentia, satisfy'd himself to tell her pleasantly, that he was glad to see Ladies applaud Lovers in the method of their Addresses. This own­ing of a Work, which I thought Ovid was oblig'd to deny, fill'd me with indignation. May a Man pre­sume, Madam, said I to Terentia, to beg a sight of Ovid's Maxims? I am yet but a Novice in the Art of Persuasion, and should be happy to receive the first Rudiments of that glorious Science, from so fa­mous a Master. Let Ovid, said Terentia interrupting me, give you what instructions he pleases; but you must excuse me, if you receive them not from my [Page 224] hands; and I have put my self out of a capacity of committing the obligation you desire; for I have committed the Verses already to flames, you beg the sight of. You must give me leave, Madam, reply'd Ovid, to doubt the reality of what you express; for had you destin'd them to that punishment, you would have inflicted another upon your self, which was not to divulge it; and one is seldom guilty of burning that, which he religiously cherishes in his thoughts and memory.

This conversation was urg'd so far, and its intri­cate obscurity found my spirit so ill dispos'd, that it extracted poyson out of every flower of it. I fan­cy'd Ovid was my Rival; and that he had prevented me in my design of persuading Terentia to turn a fair Rebel to conjugal Sovereignty. A thousand actions, which till then I regarded with an eye of indifferency, and in effect were no other, now repre­sented themselves to me in another shape. Ovid could not exhibit her the least testimony of a respect, which I did not interpret as a testimony of Love: nor could she allow him a favourable word, which I did not construe for a remarkable favor, one day in the grand Cirque he drop'd a piece of a Letter, which I catch'd up; wherein I imagin'd I read that, which certainly was not there, I could not disguise the rage this error ingrafted in my jealous thoughts. I became his opposite in all things; I spoke as little good of him, as ill will could afford: And when I raillied him, I did it with that vehemency and roughness, which fail'd but little sometimes of being the rude Ushers of a quarrel. Terentia took notice of it; and one day coming forth of the Empresses Apartment, as I was leading her to her Chariot, Are you, said she to me, Ovid's Rival? Or is there some [Page 225] other cause for the animosity, I observe, you have, for him? You pike him upon things the most indif­ferent; and alwayes make your contradictions, the answer to all his assertions. I beg your pardon, Ma­dam, said I, there is one assertion I never yet durst contradict, and we both agree that you are the most glorious beauty of the Universe. It was not a piece of Gallantry, I demanded of you, reply'd Terentia, but the cause of your contests with Ovid. You have divin'd it, Madam, said I, we are Rivals. And may one make so bold, as to ask, reply'd Terentia, who this beauty is, that is worthy to be the object of so noble a Rivalship? The most glorious of the Uni­verse, Madam, said I. This phrase is familiar to all Lovers, answer'd your beautiful Spouse, who per­suade themselves, that the common opinion ought to be led in triumph after theirs; and ascribe the highest attributes of beauty, to that, which they Idolize in their own imaginations. But that I may be the more capable of judging, whether your Mi­striss does really merit that title, or whether you do not take a prospect of her perfections through the optick of fancy only, I pray acquaint me with her name. I have nam'd her already, Madam, said I; and the distinction I made of that, wherein I agreed or disagreed with Ovid, has imparted you the whole secret. Terentia had a piercing judgment and my lan­guishing regards were no fit Sophisters, to delude it, She on a sudden eclips'd the lustre of those divine looks with a frown, which as often yet as I think upon it, darts a horror thorow all my veins; and briskly mounting into her Chariot, left me in such an agony and confusion, that I had not the power to move out of the place. You came a little after, and surprized me in my extasie: and seeing me in that [Page 226] posture, leaning against a Pillar, my countenance changed, and my body almost as immoveable as the Marble, that supported me. You did me the honor to ask me, what it was, that had reduc'd me to that condition. I know not what answer I made you, but it was doubtless a very extravagant one; for you presently burst forth into a loud laughter, and ask'd of some persons about you, if you had not the Mine of a very cruel Lady. These words recall'd my reason; and fearing I had inconsiderately divulg'd the whole secret, I follow'd you towards the Empe­rors Lodgings, with an intent, if possible, to repair so dangerous a fault: when I soon perceiv'd by the air of your countenance, that you had not disco­ver'd it. You began to raillie me with a liberty, you could not have dispens'd with, had my indiscretion betray'd my offence to you, and in obliging terms begging the honor, that I would make you my Con­fident, you made me a tender of your faithful ser­vice. Alas! I had need enough of it; for never Lover was treated with such rigor, as I experienc'd from the incomparable Terentia: She intercepted from me all opportunities of speaking to her; she avoided all occasions of giving me her hand. I fol­low'd her to the Temples, to the Gardens, to the Empresses, to the Princesses Apartments. I could not surprize one regard from her; and if at any time forgetting herself, she so much relax'd of her severity, as to suffer her eyes to bestow a glance up­on me, she would dart such flashes of indignation and disdain from them into mine, that now the best of my hopes wander'd but like wild Borderers, on the brinks of despair. Phedra perceiv'd the visible marks of it, and gave me to understand, they had not escap'd her curiosity. She would put her hand [Page 227] before my eyes, when she saw them too intentively fix'd upon her fair Mistriss. She would speak things before me, which I might apply, as counsels to my self. One night Terentia having lost at the Princess Octavia's Lodgings a Diamond-button, which her train hung in; Restore it, if you have it, said Phedro to me in my ear; every thing that be­longs to Terentia, participates of the Magick of her eyes; and you need not add another dose, to the ef­fects of their powerful charms. These overtures of an ingenuous confidence, engag'd mine. I was one day in the Temple of Concordia, where your fair Spouse did offer Sacrifice. Phedra, who attended her, pretending that the Sun incommoded her, came and plac'd herself by me, and ask'd me softly, If I were come thither to supplicate the Goddess, to re­concile the difference which was betwixt my heart and my reason. They are not at variance, said I: And my reason is so far from controuling the desires of my hear, that it daily more and more convinces me, that the glorious Terentia is the onely person in the world, worthy of its Adorations. These are glorious words, reply'd Phedra with a smile; but amongst persons of sound judgment, they weigh but little. When a Love disquiets the repose, chan­ges the countenance, and may, perhaps, ruine the Fortune of a Man, Reason does not approve it. Alas! How [...]ould it? Are you ignorant, what Te­rentia is? What the Merit? What the Credit of Mecoenas? Ovid is ignorant of none of this, said I interrupting her, and yet he presumes to love Teren­tia; and, if I am not deceiv'd, is not hated by her. Ovid? reply'd Phedra, surpriz'd with a seeming astonishment. I, Ovid, said I, Lovers are linx-ey'd; and the felicity of that Rival may triumph over my [Page 228] stars, but not my knowlege: It is for him, that I am despis'd; it is to him, that my despair is sacri­fic'd.

I could not proceed any farther in my complaints, the Ceremony ended, and Phedra was oblig'd to at­tend Terentia; but I retriev'd her again the same evening upon the banks of Tyber, where the Em­press, and the whole Court, were diverting them­selves, for the benefit of the fresh air.

Your jealousie is not without reason, said she to me, as soon as I approach'd her. Ovid is belov'd of Terentia, and this obstacle will accompany all others, your Love shall encounter. I thought this morning to have acquianted you with some circum­stances, but since you could reap no advantage by them, I forbore to mention them: serve your self of this, I now offer you; and handle it, as the most useful weapon, to vanquish your Passion. Vanquish it! said I, Oh? Phedra, it is invincible. I have not delay'd till now, I have long since summoned all my Forces together to combat it; there is nothing an­other could say to me, which I have not said to my self. But after a thousand attempts, a thousand ef­fects upon my self, one look, one word, one thought of Terentia, has in an instant baffled all my strongest resolutions. And I find, that the Gods have given me a Soul to no other end, than to make it her Slave and Vassal to the last moment of my [...]. Has Teren­tia then, said Phedra, ingross'd to herself alone all the charms of her Sex! She has beauty; and he that should deny it, would forfeit his reason: But do you think, that agreeableness of humor, vivacity of wit, and gayety of converse, are to be found in none of the Sex but her? I know not, said I, what may be found in another, but in Terentia alone my [Page 229] heart expects to find its intire repose and felicity. Assist it, generous Phedra, assist it, to atchieve it, ad­ded I, pressing her hand tenderly betwixt mine; you have both address and credit, employ them, I, be­seech you, to save the life of an unfortunate, wretch, who resigns himself up wholly to the auspicious­ness of your conduct. All that I sue for at the Shrine of that adorable Deity, is only a permission to Love, and to declare it. Let her confine this Love to the most scrupulous terms, the narrowest bounds, rigor can invent. Let it lie and languish at her feet in vain, after the meanest favors; it shall consent to any thing, so it may be licens'd only to own it self before her. Is this a grace of too high a merit, to be implor'd? And must I despair ever to obtain it?

I observ'd that Phedra chang'd colour oftentimes during my discourse, which at this place she inter­rupted with a deep sigh, and not able to suppress some rebellious tears, which against her consent started in a showr of Pearls out of her eyes; you are an Ingrate, said she to me, with a voice quite al­tered from its ordinary accent; and you might have perceiv'd, how improper a person I am for the Em­ploy you design me. I should not have presum'd to have pry'd into your Love for Terentia, nor endea­vor'd to have gain'd the opinion of deserving to be made your Confident, had you been so indifferent to me, as to oblige me to have lent you the assistance you desir'd. Recall to your memory my words and my actions; take a re-survey of my languishing eyes, and my distracted countenance; and reflecting with shame upon your past insensibility, employ me no more, but in what you may oblige me, as I have en­deavor'd to oblige you.

How? cry'd Mecoenas aloud, was it Phedra that made you these forward overtures of Love? do you not misname her for another? and may I give an en­tire credit to your words?

Reserve your admiration, my Lord, said Crassus, for its due season and place; you are not yet arri­ved to that, which ought more justly to challenge your exclamations. These astonishing expressions, which I could not in reason be accus'd for not fore­seeing, surpriz'd me with so much confusion, that it imprinted its lively effects in Phedra's cheeks, who observ'd it in mine.

She left me with eyes inflam'd with shame and despite too, as I imagin'd; and adding herself to the company of some Ladies of the Empresses train, abandon'd me to the liberty of ruminating upon my adventure: which I consider'd as environ'd with so many perplexities and dangers, that I knew not what course to steer, to avoid the rocks that threat­ned my shipwrack. I was not ignorant either of the credit, Phedra held in your Family, or what a mon­strous species of fury, a Womans malice, that sees her Love despis'd, does swell to. I apprehended some funest effect of her revenge; and yet I was neither capable to entertain, or counterfeit a passion, that might secure me from it: These various reflections did for four or five days tyrannize over my distract­ed Soul. And seeing Terentia's cruelty and disdain daily increase, I had a desire to try, if absence might not prove a cure, or at least an antidote, against so many contagious evils. This design was no sooner fram'd, but assaulted on all sides with mournful sug­gestions, doubts, and incertitudes. My reason had no sooner said, I will, but my heart answer'd, I will not. I could harbor no rest in my eyes, no quiet in [Page 231] my breast: But reason at length triumph'd over ir­resolution, and I gave the necessary Orders for my departure; when, as I was going to beg the Empe­rors leave to accompany Lentulus to the Getish War, a Moorish Slave, who I knew belong'd to Phedra, came and deliver'd me a Billet from her. I imagin'd it had been fraught with new and troublesom declara­tions of her Passion; and not willing to answer it, I thought to have return'd it, without reading: But a consideration of the respect which was due to a person of Phedra's Sex, qualifying all others, I open'd it, and found these Lines. ‘Will you go, you too hard-hearted, and too charm­ing Ingrate? Is neither the consideration of my tender passion of the pleasures it is capable to afford you, nor that of my death, which shall certainly follow you, able to divert your sullen resolutions? Alas! I must change my bottom, and steer a new course. I pro­mise you all my interest, all my credit, with Teren­tia. Allow them that time only, which shall be neces­sary for them to operate their effects in. This will be a dangerous enterprize, and cost me dear, but yet your absence would be a much dearer purchase to me. And I had rather for ever endure the malignant as­pects of your ingratitude with the enjoyment of your sight, than hope to forget them, by being depriv'd of it.’

Was there ever any resolution, my Lord, so firm, that such an attach would not shake the foundation of? I ran to the chamber of Phedra, and said to her, all that either my Love, or my Acknowlegments could dictate: I cannot promise you said I, that your rare goodness has conquer'd my passion; I should [Page 232] be guilty of a grand untruth, should I flatter you with the hopes of such a Miracle: But I assure you of a friendship so pure and so tender, that were there a veil drawn before the secrets of my heart, you would mistake it for Love. The amorous heats of persons of my age, are generally, like Passengers, fix'd no where; and draw after them a train of more real discontents, than pleasures. Let you and I combine our hearts in the solid link of a more du­rable union. You shall ever be the object of my whole esteem, and honor me alwayes with yours. This is the only Love, which is neither subject to discontent, or change. Phedra blush'd, and with her languishing eyes seem'd to beg another kind of union; but again confirm'd the promises, she had made me in the Ticket she sent me, and I had a few dayes after some ground to believe, that she was just both to them, and me.

I found Terentia's eyes disarm'd of their flaming darts; she suffer'd me to pay my attendance on her in the Gardens of Lucullus: she address'd some dis­course to me, which though it treated only of things indifferent, did transport me beyond my self with joy and content. What Miracles have you wrought already? My dear Phedra, said I, when I had the opportunity to discourse her in private: The Gods have blest your generous designs, and the most ob­durate rigor of Terentia, is not able to hold out a two dayes siege against your batteries. What am I able to perform, that may merit a service of this im­portance? Do not intercept from me the means of continuing it, reply'd Phedra; you were never yet well acquainted with the humor of Terentia; it in­cludes as many Mysteries, as her Person Beauties: you must discover nothing to her, but give her leave [Page 233] to conjecture your intentions. And this was the track, by which Ovid arriv'd at that favor, he aspi­red too: which you must likewise take, if you hope to attain to it: Let your Love employ all its facul­ties, but its tongue, and leave to me the care of in­terpreting your silence not to your disadvan­tage.

This counsel was the more difficult for me to obey, in regard Terentia re-assuming her former frankness and gayety of humor in conversing with me, furnish'd me with a thousand occasions of breaking the uneasie bonds of my imposed silence. But Phedra, whose eyes were two watchful Spies over me, disappointed them all. She would cast terrible frowns at me; she would interrupt me, up­on a bare apprehension, that I was going to give my tongue liberty to discover my thoughts; and never suffering me to be the Master of my own conduct, would force me to observe the Laws she had pre­scrib'd me, maugre all my attempts to violate them.

I fram'd a complaint one day of the violence she offer'd me in a passionate Letter to Terentia, which I deliver'd to Phedra for her, which she assur'd me she had oblig'd her to read; I seconded that with another, to which I receiv'd a Billet of three or four lines in answer. Phedra promis'd me, that in a lit­tle time she would effect greater things for me. And a little after, a Ticket was directed to me, which summon'd me to a nocturnal assignation. Phedra brought it, and when I had read it, Well, said she, have I not now, think you, dearly purchas'd your stay in Rome? And do you not comprehend, that at the rate I have bought it, how precious a value I have for it? I never yet doubted your goodness, my [Page 234] dear Phedra, answer'd I; and I conjure you to be­lieve, that there are no acknowledgments within my power, which I shall not sacrifice to it. Dispose of my life and fortune; exact the strongest proof ima­ginable from a friendship, which ambitions nothing more, than so glorious a test. But, my Lord, re­ply'd she, interrupting me with a languishing look, do you think that this friendship, as perfect as you decipher it, is capable to enable me to serve you, as I do, with tranquility and repose? You employ my diligence, you require convincing proofs of it; and from my hand you receive an assignation, from her you adore; what could your revenge, or your ha­tred, commit more barbarous, or more cruel? My dear Phedra, said I, sensibly touch'd with this re­proach, Would Heaven had given me the same com­mand of my heart, as it has given you of yours, I should then have sacrific'd it to the same Deity you do. But alas! I am an unfortunate wretch, who has no power left him, but to fill your ears with complaints against the severity of his destiny; to ar­raign himself before you of ingratitude, and offer up his life too, if you require it, in expiation of his crime. You offer but little, reply'd Phedra, with a sigh, in offering so much; and you are assur'd, that your life is but in small danger, if that be the onely sacrifice you intend to offer to the Deity you men­tion.

In saying this, she led me to the Cypress Walk; into one end whereof, there is a private descent by a back pair of Stairs out of Terentia's Closet. She told me, that when you were gone at night to wait upon the Emperor in his Bed-chamber, one should come for me, when she left me; and by the Stairs I nam'd, conduct me to the Room, where Teren­tia [Page 235] should honor me with the interview, I so much desir'd.

Do not disturb your self, my Lord, said Crassus, seeing Mecoenas change colour; for nothing was perform'd, of what was promised. I stood Senti­nel two long hours at the foot of a Cypress Tree; the least motion whereof, made me shake, like the trembling leaves over my head, and struck a panic terror into my Soul: when at length there came one to me, and told me, that you were engag'd at Play with Prince Marcellus; that you did not go that night to wait upon the Emperor, and that our Assignment was to be adjourned to the next day. I laid a thousand imprecations upon the first In­ventors of Gaming, and the practice of it. I threw as many more at my Stars, and went raving towards the place, where you were at play, ho­ping at least to purchase a view of Terentia in publick, which was deny'd me in private. This expectation was no more successful, than the for­mer. Terentia was retir'd, and I was scarce en­tred, when one of her Slaves came, and whisper­ing Ovid aside, who was looking upon the Game­sters, conducted him to her Ladies Chamber.

I am well acquainted with all the transactions of that night, reply'd Mecoenas; and if you take your measures from thence, your suspitions are chi­merical, and you ought to efface them out of your thoughts.

They are effac'd already, my Lord, said Crassus, and I am as well satisfi'd at the present, as your self, touching the design for which Terentia sent that night for Ovid; but I was then ignorant of it; and only apprehended, that he was favour'd with the Assignation, which was promised me: [Page 236] that the appointment was broken with me, to be­friend him; and that my just resentments of so inhu­mane an affront was design'd only to advance the triumph of my Rival. I went to seek out Phedra, to make my complaint to her; but I could find her neither in her own Chamber, nor in any of her Companions; I thought she might have been gone into the Garden, to look after me, and advertise me of what had fallen out. I hastened thither, after I had made many turns in vain about it, at last I perceiv'd Ovid descending by those Stairs, which I had been told, was the private Road of favour'd Lovers.

Can you wonder, my Lord, if I retain'd not the least spark of sound judgment or reason, in a circumstance so capable to deprive me of it; and if I endeavour'd to revenge upon Ovid, a trea­chery, which I could not call Terentia to an account for.

Phedra writ to me the next morning, and highly blaming me for the rude alarm, I had given her Ladies honor, assur'd me that it would utterly ruine me in her good opinion; and that I should despair hereafter of ever receiving the least favor from her: Did it not become me, either to cast out Complaints, or Menaces? That a real Love was always attended with a zealous fear and sub­mission. I ran to Phedra's Chamber, to conjure her either to obtain a pardon for me, or a sen­tence of death: She was gone to Helvidia's, and her Moorish Slave left me in hers, whilst she went to call her. I was not then in an humor to de­lude either my time or thoughts, with the search after Curiosities; but, I know not what secret im­pulse mov'd me to cast my eyes upon an Escritoire, [Page 237] which stood open by me; I examin'd it, and found in it a Letter, which at the first sight, I imagin'd to be Terentia's writing. I opened it: But my Lord, How great was my astonishment, when by the Stile, and the Subscription, I found it to be Phedra's. She gave therein an account of a Suit the Lacedemonians had then depending at Court, which I knew, had been recommended to her. She magnifi'd it in the favors you honor'd her with, her credit, her expectations; and in fine, gave her self so natural a character, that I had ne­ver known her before, but through a disguise. I pul­led the Ticket and Letter out of my Pocket, which I imagin'd Terentia had sent me, I compar'd it with that I had in my hand. The Writing was much like; and to evince all my scruples, I found in the same Cabinet, an Order to Phedra, written with your Wives own hand, which spoke in the language of a Mistress to a Servant, and convinc'd me by the difference of the Character, that it was none but Phedra, who had written to me. What a Thunder-clap was this to a man, who was totally absorpt in a deluge of Love, and believed himsef to be fixt in his Mistresses favor. Oh! Phedra, cry'd I, as soon as I saw her enter, you have trepan'd me, by a horrid act of treachery. See here irrefragable testimonies to cast you; that under a pretence of an unfeigned Passion, which you suborn'd to delude me, have expos'd my cre­dulity to the rude treats of your Malice.

I was able to say no more to her; for the con­fusion I saw her in, had converted all my suspi­tions into certitude; which rais'd mine own to such an height, that it even conglutinated my Tongue to the Palate of my Mouth. When the [Page 238] first pangs of this Agony were past, and from a Marble Pillar that propt me up, I cast a glance upon the eyes of Phedra, which by the torrent of their tears, and their dejected bashfulness, confirm­ed the Sentence of my misfortune; False and in­grateful Phedra, said I to her, outrag'd with grief, What inhumane crime am I guilty of towards you, that you should reduce me to the most de­plorable state, that humanity it self was ever for­ced to groan vnder? Was I culpable, because your eyes thought me charming? Did I abuse your fa­cility? Did I encourage your passion, or expose it to publick scorn? In fine, What barbarism have I committed, that could induce you to commit so many Treasons against me? You would have left me, reply'd she, and I had not resolution enough to support your absence. I borrow'd the credit of Terentia, where I saw mine own insufficient. The invisible Powers above, are my Witnesses, that I have not been wanting to any one particular of those devoirs, I engag'd to you; and that repug­nant to the impulse of my own forcible inclinati­ons, I would have sacrific'd them to your felicity, had it center'd in me. But Terentia was inexor­able, and you resolv'd to leave Rome: What could an unfortunate Woman do? who, influenc'd by the fatality of her Stars, regarded your absence as the most cruel of all torments. But, said I, Te­rentia's rigor is mollifyed, she speaks to me, and denies me no marks of a visible esteem. To what Magick, or Fancy, do I owe this? To a Fancy, re­ply'd Phedra, I have suggested to her, that you had withdrawn your love, and rendring your self to my importunities, addrest those Vows to me, which were so displeasing to her. And I my self con­ceived [Page 239] the vain hope to induce you one day to ap­prove so chimerical a change. I flattered my self with the thoughts of obtaining that by a sense of gratitude and compassion, which your inclination could not grant me; and to gain time to accomplish my design, I made use of the dexterity, I have, in writing two different hands. And seeing the more Sacrifice my Love offered to you, the less sensible you were of it, I resolv'd to owe that to a Strata­gem, which I could arrive to by no other means. I would have supply'd the place of Terentia, at the appointed Assignation, and in order to it, had dis­posed all things for the best advantage to deceive you. I would have spoken to you from within a Glass Alcove; from which you should have been plac'd at such a distance, that you should not have been sensible of the cheat. But Love, tyran­nick Love, deny'd me even that imaginary satis­faction, of raising your transports under the noti­on of another. For Terentia had cloyster'd her self up all the time in that unlucky Closet, which I had design'd for our Converse. What severer punishment could you wish Heaven to inflict up­on me, than that whereof I my self am the fatal Instrument? I love, without hopes of being lov'd again. I have betray'd the confidence of a Lady, which has highly oblig'd me. I have hazarded her reputatition, the honor of Mecoenas, your own life and fortune. And I have purchas'd nothing in compensation of so many Crimes, but the assu­rance of being loathsome and odious to you. Cru­el one! can you so much forget Man, and receive a Tyger in your Bosom, as to object to me yet your unworthy reproaches? And is the antipathy, you have conceiv'd against me, so inveterate, that the [Page 240] sence of my sufferings will never be able to extin­guish it? I scarce heard these last passionate ex­pressions, for I turn'd hastily away from her, to go seek out Terentia: and imagining that nothing could be of more tragical consequence to me, than the errors, Phedra had treacherously involv'd her in, I would have run all hazards, to have dispos­sed her of it. But since my encounter with Ovid, she has always so sedulously addicted her self to Caesar, to calm his indignation, that I could never gain a moments time to entertain her, I judge that Phedra has not neglected, that, that I allow'd her; and considering, what an opportunity, I had to ruine her, has prevented me. But, my Lord, let her not triumph over my misfortune, and in her glorious Treason. Alas! without its artifice, I had design'd to remove my self from Terentia's presence; and to go into the Field, and there op­pose the effeminate attacks of Venus with the rough Arms of Bellona; nor ever to see Rome more, till Mars had been my Physitian, and cur'd my distemper. But the fraudulent Phedra has tra­versed my design; and to satisfie the fancy of her capricious Love, which her Reason ought to have surmounted, gave the occasion of that tumult and disorder, you saw the Court in. It was she, who by fomenting my jealousie against Ovid, was the instrument of that great Persons banishment. But time has at length convinc'd me, that my suspiti­ons were groundless, and that Phedra did only raise them, to be an obstacle to my Passion: But had they not been unfortunately confin'd by my encountring Ovid in the Garden, that Noble Per­sonage might have been at this hour in Rome; Caesar free from all resentments of jealousie, or re­venge, [Page 141] and Marcellus in repose; and you, your self, my Lord, ignorant perhaps of the secret designs, I form'd, to attack the Royal Fort of Terentia's heart. Guard your self from a fury so fertile in fatal inven­tions, and assuring your self, that she may act one day as much against your interest, as you see, she has done of late against mine, preserve Terentia and your self from the Artifices of so deluding a Sorceress.

This discovery and preadmonition had already produc'd the most cruel effects in the heart of Mecoe­nas, as it was capable to comprehend. He passionate­ly affected Phedra; and his Love was the more vio­lent, in that he conceal'd it as a secret, from the eyes of the world. He resented with an incredible dis­satisfaction, the injury his Passion had receiv'd from the ingratitude of this false one. And more enrag'd against Crassus, for the innocent attempt he had made upon the heart of his Mistriss, than the criminal one he had form'd against that of his Wife, he executed Caesar's Orders with a rigor not sutable to the sweet­ness of his natural temper. Crassus was astonish'd, and could not forbear to tell him, that he ought ei­ther to treat him with less mildness, or execute his Commission with less authority. Mecoenas would not vouchsafe to return him an answer; and under­standing that Phedra had not accompany'd Terentia to Tullia's Villa, he ran, transported with jealousie, towards the Chamber of that ungrateful one; but was intercepted by the way by the Philosopher Vo­lumnius, who was a Man in high reputation for his learning and wisdom, and in particular esteem with Mecoenas, whom he acquainted, that he was come not only to wait upon him, but likewise to entertain him with a Novelty of importance. They retir'd toge­ther into a Closet, and when they were alone, what [Page 142] an Age do we live in? My Lord, said the Philoso­pher, the debauchery of Wit and Manners, triumphs over all Laws, contemns the counsels and advice of wisdom, and converts into tears of compassion the unregarded documents of Prudence. Ovid, who has receiv'd so many graces both from Caesar, and you; Ovid so capable of all excellent notions and know­ledge, if he would apply himself to them; Ovid, in a word, to whom I have been so prodigal of my rich­est instructions, has betray'd both Natures designs, and mine. Behold here, my Lord the Legacy he bequeath'd me some few dayes before his Thalassian journey, and banishing all spirits of this character from the Court, acquit your self with honor of the trust, Caesar has repos'd in yours. Finishing these words, he put into Mecoenas's hand a little Cabinet of Cedar, which Ovid, coming from Domitius's house had left behind him, rather through oblivion, than design of his. Mecoenas open'd it, and the first Paper that came to his hand, contain'd the following Ver­ses.

What manner of speaking is this, said Volumnius? Is the Soul of a Man of Honor capable to make a Woman of Honor? That which the World entitles a Man of Honor, does glory to be gallant, and favo­red of Ladies; but contrariwise, a Woman of Ho­nor declines the intrigues of Gallantry, and regards Chastity and Modesty as the two Pillars that support all the other virtues of her Sex. What can Ovid mean by the expression then? but that Sulpicia am­bitioning only the qualities of a Man of Honor, did not pretend to those of a Woman of Honor. What Licentiousness? What Malice is this? I will wager, that Ovid would not have said this of the Wife of Ti­sienus, but in revenge of that severity, which of all virtues in a Woman, he ever exprest the least esteem for.

Whil'st Volumnius was intent upon his Philoso­phical Ratiocinations, Mecoenas was not less on his Poetical diversions: And after divers Copies of Verses of the same character, he lighted upon a piece of Prose, the first leaf whereof he could not read without smiling, and ask'd Volumnius whether he had well examin'd the Papers he had brought him. I examine them? My Lord, reply'd the Phi­losopher, the Gods defend me from blasting my soul or my eyes, with reading such no less dange­rous, than scurrilous vanities; I only lightly perus'd the Verses which concern'd the Empress, and seiz'd with the horror of their blasphemies, came in haste to deliver the Criminals up into your hands. I have supply'd the defect of your curiosity, reply'd Mece­nas, smiling all the time; and that your zeal may not want its just recompence, I will teach you how far it has transported you: and in saying this, he began to read the Paper out aloud.

THE HISTORY OF Virgil.

AN illustrious descent, said he, is a gift of For­tune, which entails no hereditary glory upon the receivers; it costs them neither study, nor labor, and it is so far from deserving the title of Merit, that it is oftentimes an obstacle to the acquiring it: But yet, my Lord, it ought to be confest, that though it be not the reward, it is the lustre of Virtue, and that illustrious qualities shine not in their native splendor and orb, but in a Subject of an illustrious Title.

I labor'd a long time under this injustice of Fate, and it was that which caus'd me to take my leave of my Countrey, more than the flaming ruines of de­lightful Mantua. Its destruction destroy'd none of my riches, nor my dignities: My losses by the Fire were not so great, but that a small Cott was able to repair them: But the obscurity of my birth, eclips d all the lustre of my Talents; and as I valu'd my self more upon the nobleness of my deserts, than of my [Page 242] descent, I was very willing to exchange my native Air for any other, where my person might be better known, than my extraction.

You know, my Lord, how this design succeeded; I was favor'd by Mecoenas, and presented by him to the Emperor; and within a short time, obtain'd the place of Supervisor, for the transportation of wheat, and all other grain, wherewith the Isle of Sicily sup­plies Rome. I was ambitious to shew my self wor­thy of the Employ I was honor'd with; and I not only dedicated all my cares and diligence to advance the fruitful harvests of every season, but likewise to improve them to an advantage, that Island had never before been sensible of. I taught the Inhabitants a new, and more beneficial way of tillage; I gave them many wholesom Precepts for the increase of the health and fecundity of their Cattle: This method, which no man had taught, or practis'd be­fore me in that place, render'd me familiar and in high esteem with persons of that calling. They would come and consult me upon all their affairs, and I have a thousand times admir'd, to see what plea­sure Nature takes to repair in them by ingenuity and industry, the injustice Fortune has done them by a blind partiality. My Lord, sayes an old Man, in whose innocent converse I took great delight, one day to me, What is this Fortune, of which I have heard you discourse so often; you call Her some­times unjust and capricious, and at other times you reverence Her, as a Goddess; and, in effect, you have inroll'd her in the Catalogue of your Deities, and dedicated Temples to Her in Rome? Tell me, I pray you what Authority has She over Mortals? Does She send them into the world? Can She take them out of it? Or maintain them in health in it? [Page 243] She does not do any of all this, said I, she cann [...] destroy the World; but she furnishes it with Com­modities, without which, it would be less to be desired, than death it self. But, reply'd the old man, she has furnish'd me with none of the Commodi­ties, you speak of; my labour, is the only Com­modity, I subsist by; which is scarce able to feed and cloath me, and yet I live contented. If you live contented, said I, you are one of fortunes Fa­vourites, and she has given you all that she can give you. But, reply'd he, all that she has given me, would not render another perhaps, so contented, as I am. Young Coridon, who is so handsom, and who has so many Commodities, is always mumuring against For­tune. His rich Unkle Melibeus, dotes on him, and maintains him like a Lord; and yet how comes it to pass, that he, who has every thing that I have, should continually be making complaints; and that I, who have not half of what he has, should live contented with my condition? How? said I, From hence that he to the abundance, he has, covets more; and that the little you have does fully sa­tisfie your desires. It is not fortune then, reply'd the old man, which is able to create either out dis­contents, or our joys; we need not court her either in Heaven, or upon Earth; we need not raise Altars, or Temples to her; since all our felicity consists in being contented, with what the Gods have bestow'd upon us. I am glad I have learnt so excellent a Lesson to day: I shall remember it, when I hear Coridon make his complaints, and I shall not fail to tell him, that he ought to attribute to himself, not to fortune, the dissatisfaction he finds in his condition.

This Coridon had addicted himself to a very so­litary [Page 244] course of life; and though he liv'd in a near neighbouring Village to my house, I had never seen him. I had a curiosity to understand, what it was, that oblig'd him, to frame those continual complaints. He came one evening with some of his Companions into a Meadow, where I was wal­king: and as soon as I saw him, I was convinc'd, that it was not without reason, that they call'd him, Coridon the Fair; for I had never beheld a more charming Beauty. I askt him, that since he was only born a Peasant, and yet commanded all conveniences such a life could furnish him with, Why he was always railing against Fortune? You ask me a great Secret, my Lord, said he, fetching a deep sigh, and if I could impart it to you, it would much lighten the burden of these afflictions, I groan under.

His Unkle came to us, as he had finisht those last words; and desiring me not to give ear to his idle discourse, made a sign to him, to retire: Why do you chase him away? said I to Melibeus; you should have suffer'd him to tell me, what it is that troubles him. Perhaps I could administer him some wholesom Physick for his distemper: Alas! my Lord, reply'd his Unkle, What can he tell you? He is a Lunatick, who is neither capable of decla­ring to you the cause of his complaint, nor of any advice that can be given to moderate them. He spent his first years at Athens, where he apply'd himself to nothing but the reading of Fables and Romances, which have deprav'd his judgment. He hatches strange Chimera's in his fancy, and nou­rishes them up in his folly; and seeing me refuse to flatter his brain-sick humors, he will oftentimes go and address his complaints to Rocks and Trees, [Page 245] as if they were capable to understand and relieve him.

This frensie of this beautiful Youth, mov'd me to compassionate him. I sent to a famous Grecian, who profest Physick in Syracusa, for his advice, and desir'd him to employ the best of his skill, to re­duce his distemper'd Brain to its native strength and vivacity. The Grecian return'd me a learn'd and satisfactory answer; prescrib'd the use of certain Simples, and assur'd me of a favourable success. I went to find Melibeus, to communicate his advice to him; and as I was in the midst of a little Wood, which I was to pass thorough to go to the house of that good man; I thought I heard my self nam'd; I lent a diligent attention, and heard one say;

Consider into what a gulf of dangers you would have precipitated your self, had not I, by the sub­orn'd disguise of an imaginary folly, found a means to preserve you from it. Virgil has a curious and piercing judgment; he would have soon disco­ver'd the secret, you are so much oblig'd to con­ceal: And that perhaps may be the misfortune, which they have possest your Father with so strong an apprehension of: And if Heaven had not op­portunely sent me to your relief, one moment of indiscretion might have render'd the precautions and care of eight entire years, wholly ineffectual, Oh! cruel precautions, answered the person, to whom the other spoke; I am able no longer to enslave my self to them. This base disguise, the prolon­gation of my banishment, the rustick employment to which I am forc'd to apply my self, and the se­cret repugnance and antipathy I have against them, accomplish the the Prophesie, which they endea­vor [Page 246] to avert from me; they advanc'd it, in seek­ing thus to preserve me from the menaces of it; and the disasters, which the Stars threaten me, are not so much to be apprehended by me, as those, wherein the provident care, as you term it, of An­tiochus, does daily involve me.

It is strange, reply'd he, who had begun the dis­course, that the prudence and affection of a tender Father, such as Antiochus is, should be suspected by you, of cruelty, and indiscretion. Do you think, that he has not maturely weighed the reasons and consequences of his proceedings? Your resignati­on has hitherto been his joy and his glory; And I wonder, that having not above five or six months to suffer, those should become more insupportable to you, than all the former years of your confine­ment.

My tender age, reply'd this person, and the hopes I had to enjoy in a short time my enlarge­ment, did, as it were, skreen its horror from my eyes; but since Antiochus declar'd to me in his last Voyage, that it was to be continued to the seven­teenth year of my age, I was seiz'd with such vio­lent transports of grief and impatience, as my firmest constancy, was not able to triumph over. The liberty which the young Shepherds, with whom I am forc'd to consort, licentiously indulge them­selves; the amorous persecutions of old Nerysa, and the tender complaints of young Daphne, ex­pose it every moment to the extreamest Test. I am not able Melibeus, any longer to keep my tongue prisoner, as you keep my person; and it is time now that the World should hear me speak that un­der the notion of Phila, which you force me often­times [Page 247] to utter amongst our Shepherds under the name of Corydon.

I was so attentive to this discourse, that the same Nerysa, which Corydon had just then spoken of, came to the place where I stood, and was within two or three paces of me, before I discover'd her. I laugh oftentimes, when I think of this Creature. She was the Widow of Pollio, whom you knew, at your first coming into the World; and having retir'd her self into Sicily, where she had a fair Dowry, she became so besotted with the Charms of Corydon, that she both forgot her age and her honor, to become a young Votary of Cupid. She went drest like a young Country Girl. She made one at all youthful Sports and Pastimes of the Shep­herds and Shepherdesses: and crowning with Gar­lands of Flowers that head, which she had thatcht for many years with purchast Hair: She would play as wantonly with little Dogs and Monkies, as if she were just then stept into that age, wherein such childish gallantries may pass for an ornament. She askt me what curiosity had invited me thither, and what it was that I leant so diligent an ear to? To your praises, Madam, said I, which declare, that in this Habit, you would force the youthful Paris to pay a homage to your Charms; and serve for an original to copy forth the beautiful Shepher­dess Enona by. You are a Flatterer, said she, with a smile (which envy would have been apt to call a grin) I do not aim by this dress, to attract the admiration, or envy of my neighbors; but one knows not otherways, how to divert themselves in the Country; and besides, I owe this slight com­plaisance, to the kindness of the Shepherds, I live amongst, who with so much care and respect, [Page 248] solemnize yearly the day of my birth. So gi­ving me her hand, and leading me to a Castle, to­wards which the Wood, we were then in, by a plea­sant Walk conducted us, she entreated me to stay, and be a witness of the innocent diversions, which her neighbors were preparing for her. We en­ter'd into a Hall, which was suddenly fill'd with young Fellows, and Country-wenches, who brought every one a small Present, suitable to his ability; and attended with divers rustical instruments, pre­sented us with a very pleasant Ball after their Country fashion. The young Daphne, Niece to Nerysa, (whom Corydon had mention'd before in the discourse, I had over-heard) had by the command of her Aunt, rankt her self amongst them, and chosen two or three young Girles for her Companions, whose pretty simplicity and innocence, might have rais'd emulation even in the most admired Beauties of Augustus his Court; but both my eyes and my attention were so eager'y fixt upon the counterfeit Corydon, that I had no more left me, to bestow upon any other Object.

Never did Beauty receive less advantage by ad­dress, nor address more glory from Beauty, than in this incomparable person. I admir'd, how that being a Girl, she was able with such dexterity to perform the exercises of the contrary Sex: and in a moment after, I wonder'd as much, how in the disguise of a Boy, she could preserve the glory of her own, with so much sweetness and modesty. The old Nerysa devour'd her with her eyes; and pregnant with a Passion, that every action seem'd to labor to be deliver'd of; she askt me with a transported countenance, if that Youth did not merit a Fortune more noble, than his birth; and [Page 249] what I would say of that person, who to repair the injustice, fate had done him, should raise him to one worthy of himself? I would say, said I, that that person would give a most excellent testimony of his judgment; and that if I were born a Prince, and could find a simple Shepherdess, accomplish'd with so many Charms and Perfections in her Sex, as Corydon is in his, I should make no scruple, to make her a Princess. Nerysa hugg'd me in her Arms for this answer, and highly extolling it, for a rare principle of equity in me; I have the same sentiments, said she, as you have; and were it not out of a chimerical apprehension, that I should in­cur the censure of the scandalous World, I swear, I had long since invested him with all my posses­sions. It shall be so yet, went she on; as if she had finally determin'd it: your learned discourses have quite non plus't all my scruples; and you shall see in a short time what a veneration and re­spect, I have for them: Not that I was ever fond of Marriage from a Girl; nor had I ever enter'd into it, but by the express command of my Fa­ther; and I had a natural aversion to co-habit with Pollio in any other way than as a Sister with a Bro­ther; But I make a conscience of suffering Cory­don to be bury'd in the obscurity, wherein he was born; and I shall hereby demonstrate to the World, that it is oblige men to the practise of such acts of justice, that the Gods have created such diffe­rences in their fortunes.

I could have deriv'd a pleasant diversion from her extravagant follies, had not I began to feel in my self an incroaching Passion, which fill'd my Breast with chagrin and disquiet. I attempted se­veral times, dancing the Dance, to draw the coun­terfeit [Page 250] Corydon aside, and discover some of my thoughts to her; but old Melibeus, did watch her so narrowly, that I could gain no opportunity of speaking to her, but in his presence. I fetcht ma­ny a deep sigh for grief; and seeing all the rural Squadron retire, and I not able to effect my de­sign, I return'd in a melancholly humor towards my own House, thorough the same Wood, by which I had come before; when I could hear old Nerysa in a furious tone, thundring out terrible menaces against her young Niece Daphne. I desir'd her to tell me what it was, that had provok'd her to so much indignation. What is it? said she, staring upon me, like a Woman half distracted, this young Slut, which I have bred up from the Cradle, as ten­derly as if she had been a Daughter of my own, and to whom, thanks to the Gods, I have ever given nothing, but examples of virtue, prefers her own giddy-brain'd inclinations, before my virtu­ous Precepts. I found her just now making a thousand Caresses to Melibeus his young Nephew. For Heavens sake tell me my Joy, went she on, giving the Girl no time to make her an answer, which of my actions does authorize you to live with me in this debauchery? I do not disallow of innocent Recreations; and being not yet arriv'd to those years of gravity, as to renounce the plea­sures of Society, I profess, I cannot reconcile the gaity of my humor to that air of severity, which entombs many women alive at the age of four times ten with­in their own houses, as in a Vestal Cloyster; but Virtue, you know, my Lord, will shine in what Orb soever you fix it. I consecrate my self whol­ly to solid and essential diversions: Take example by me, foolish Girl, to comport your self, and [Page 251] force me not by your impudence to send you back again to the Wilderness, from whence I took you. I endeavour'd the best I could to appease the fury of this old Tygress, and being conscious to my self that Daphne could not be guilty, but in intention only; I desir'd, Nerysa not to suffer her affection to her Neece to be seduc'd by vain surmises. Vain surmises! cry'd she out; I am neither distracted, nor blind. I saw with these eyes this young Mi­nion follow Corydon, as he went out of my house; I had a curiosity to see what they intended; I stole softly after them; and I heard Daphne reproach him, because in the Dance he had not vouchsaf'd to cast one look upon her; call him ingrateful, and beg his Heart of him, with expressions, that cause me to blush at the very thoughts of them. That famous Fabler, had a great deal of reason on his side, when by his tale of the Cat transformed into a Woman, he demonstrated to us, that Nature will be always Mistress. Corydon was born upon the Dunghil of a Country Village, and will smell of it as long as he lives: He has no sence of a gene­rous ambition, and instead of endeavouring to please me, or reach at Riches, Glory, or Dignities, he runs creeping after this young Slattertaile, which has not a penny, but what my charity will bestow upon her. It is not for her Beauty, (run she on, giving a fresh loose in the fury of her Carreer) set aside a little snout-fair Paint of youth, which will sooner or later decay, and a little breeding and bonne grace, which my care and charges have purchast her, I have without vanity a more mature judgment, and am more desirable than she.

I applauded all she said, and being touch'd with compassion for poor Daphne, who was with so much injustice suspected of a crime, she was not capable of committing, I offer'd all the reasons to the rage of the old Vixon, which I thought might appease it. Corydon came to understand what I had done, and acknowledging my generosity, came to give me thanks for the good office.

It was not a bare point of generosity, lovely Shep­herd, said I to her, but a Motive more powerful, that commanded those small services, you set so high a value on; and I shall expect for all others, I shall consecrate to you hereafter, a recompence worthy of their Merit. Alas! My Lord, reply'd the pretend­ed Corydon, with a sigh, what recompence can you expect from a poor Shepherd, which Fortune has chosen to be the object of her scorn, and who being as destitute of wealth, as of credit, is capable to pay no other recompence for a favor receiv'd, than that of impotent vows and acknowledgments? The ac­knowledgment you offer, fair Corydon, said I, is not so inconsiderable, as you imagine it; you have a heart in your power to dispose of, and I would pur­chase it at the whole price of my Soul, if you would impose no higher upon it.

The fair disguiz'd, dy'd her cheeks in scarlet, and stepping back two or three paces, seem'd by that eloquent motion to tell me I had forgot, to whom I address'd my discourse. Moderate your astonish­ment, said I, Beauty can challenge no particular Sex for its object; and though you really were, what you seem to be, I might usurp the priviledge without exception, to admire that, which Nature has fram'd so admirable. But, charming Corydon, you are con­scious to your self, that I have a more solid founda­tion [Page 253] to raise a Temple on to the Divinity of Love: and without giving a clearer explanation to my thoughts, I constitute your self the Judge to de­nounce, whether the Divinity, I mention'd, may not claim the sacrifice of my heart, with as much justice, as if he were the most resplendent Beauty of the Gre­cian Empire.

A Courier arriving from Mecoenas with private Orders, whom I was oblig'd to dispatch in haste, interrupted our longer converse; but I omitted no stratagem, nor assiduity, for the renewing it again with the first opportunity. Love is a subtile poy­son, which in a moment passes through our senses to our heart. I spoke, I urg'd, I discover'd to her what I knew of her condition, and how miraculously I came to the knowledge of it. In fine Corydon, or I should rather now say, Phila, told me, that a learned Astrologer came to Athens, when she was not above seven years old, had gain'd the acquaintance of her father, and assur'd him, that if he did not conceal her from the eyes of the whole world, till she had attain'd to the 17th year of her age, her life should be unfortunate, and inviron'd with innumerous dis­asters; and on the contrary, if he observ'd the pre­caution he gave him, he should see his daughter one of the most fortunate persons that ever came into the world.

Antiochus persuading himself that these Predicti­ons were infallible, (added the fair Phila) caus'd a rumor to be spread abroad of my death; and having committed me to the charge of old Melibeus, who had formerly been one of his Servants, he has conceal'd me for these nine years in this Island, in the disguise you now see me: And I, perhaps, should have sup­ported it with more constancy, if the loath'd caresses [Page 254] of old Nerisa, and the continual expostulations of young Daphne, had not quite exhausted my pati­ence. I abhor that old amorous piece of decrepid­ness, and I tenderly affect her deluded Niece. Ha­tred and disdain sollicite me to expose one to open confusion, and love and friendship privately to un­deceive the other: But I dare not obey either of these temptations. Melibeus is continually suggest­ing to me, that the felicity, or infelicity of my life, depends upon my secrecy: he has so often inculca­ted this to me, that I have now no power to doubt it; and I give as sacred a belief to the predictions of that Astrologer, as I should do to the voice of Jupi­ter himself: And I tremble with ho [...]or, to think, that as I am now speaking to you with so much frank­ness, I perhaps advance that cruel destiny, which they so carefully study to avert from me.

I encourag'd Phila against the vanity of her appre­hensions, and finding a heart in her, which as unpra­ctis'd and as young as it was, might easily be indu­ced to receive the impressions of a passion, I endea­vor'd to manage this favorable conjuncture of Beau­ty and innocence to the best advantage. I insinua­ted my self into the good opinion of Melibeus. I never spoke to his Nephew in his presence, but my discourse was an absolute harangue of virtue, and obedience to Parents; And though I oftentimes took up this theam as much by accident, as design, it so strongly enchanted the fancy of the old Man, that he would send Phila purposely to me for my instru­ctions; and assur'd himself that she was in as great security under my conduct and charge, as in his own.

Oh! ye Gods! what an age of felicity did every moment then of my life include! It was in those [Page 255] auspicious dayes, that I compos'd those passionate Eglogues, which you took so much delight to read; the laws of my duty comply'd then with the desires of my heart; and I receiv'd as much applause from Mecoenas, for my Government in Sicily, as I did satis­faction in the actions by which I purchas'd it. The day approach'd, when the disguised Phila was to pull off that Vizard-Mask, which had so long clou­ded from the eyes of the world her native splendor; and my estate, I now thought, was grown conside­rable enough, to challenge the assent of Antiochus. But blind Love does oftentimes want the foreseeing eyes of prudence; and we did not weigh in her im­partial scales, the dangers to which the vigilance of our watchful Spies might expose us.

The flames of Nerisa seem'd to borrow new sup­plies daily from the coldness of Corydon: she perse­cuted him with a Love, that at length degenerated into an open fury; and finding that he grew every day more and more rebellious to her raging desires, she imagin'd that my counsels blew the coals both of his disdain, and her own shame. I carried my self, as a person indifferent, towards the rural Beauties of our Neighborhood: And as none could divine, that the counterfeit Corydon had caus'd in me this indif­ferency, all interpreted that a default of Love in me, which was properly the excess of it. Nerisa believ'd that I instill'd pernicious Maxims into the Soul of Corydon; and acting the old Dragon, who was the Keeper of the Hesperian Garden, she with never-sleeping eyes watch'd this golden fruit of her heart; and one evening surpriz'd us at a private Cabal, which we held under the overspreading Canopy of a thick quickset Hedge, that prov'd a treacherous Skreen, to intercept from us the sight of that old

Dragoness: Ha! my Lord, What think you, was the discourse, we entertained those few blessed minutes with, of such importance, that Nerysa could not have expected any of so great? I was blaming Phila, for not forcing her inclination to express a little more complaisance for the error, she saw her involv'd in.

She may do us a displeasure, said I to her; she has a great interest in this place; and Melibeus Rents the Estate of her, he lives in; for which you ought to pay her the small acknowledgement of a little fein'd complaisance. Make all her fanta­stick discourses and addresses, your sport and di­version. Ha! Virgil, said she, I shall never be able to extort from my self that complaisance, you plead for. I could heretofore with more equity, and less trouble, digest the follies of Nerisa; and as long as her discourses, only invaded my mo­desty, and reason, I suffer'd them with patience enough: But since now they begin to invade the confines too of my fidelity, they are become whol­ly insupportable to me. I know, that my heart is not suspected to be what it is; and if you frame a right judgment of the state of it, Nerysa cannot properly be call'd your Rival; but she is really so in intention, though not in effect: and mine are so pure and so delicate, that even the blind error Nerysa cherishes in her abused thoughts, seems to blemish and asperse them.

Would to the Gods, it were lawful for the World, said I, most beautiful Shepherd (for I would not use my self to call her Phila in private, for fear of being surpriz'd with the mistake in publick) to pay to your Idea, the homage and ado­rations, it owes it, under what form soever, it [Page 257] shall design to represent it self: The excess of your fidelity, give me leave, to call my injury; since my whole stock of love is incapacitated there­by, to repay one half of the debt, it imposes up­on me; and should Cupid Mortgage all his Demains to supply my inability, I should still be in arrear to so matchless a Bounty. Converse with Nerisa with the same innocence, you did, before I knew you. And the minutes of bliss, she will rob me of, shall furnish me with a sum of vexations, that I beg you to accept in part of payment of that in­finite one, for which I stand indebted to you; and as then you shall take care not to decline all diver­sions, to enjoy my company alone, I shall be able to impute a tender reproach to you, that you did not that for me, which I would have done for you. Oh! most ingrateful person, reply'd the generous Phila, Do you think, that those vexati­ons, which you account to me in part of payment of the debt you boast of, will cost me nothing? Is not your absence, think you, as insupportable to Corydon, as Corydon's is to you? And do you judge, though the unequal temper of our hearts should not render us both of one weight in those Scales, that the company of Nerisa ought to be obtruded on me, for a diversion? This Nerisa, I say, who many lusters ago prun'd up with all the advantages and charms of youth, durst scarce pre­tend to the title of Tolerable; and who at an age; wherein the most radiant Beauties suffer a total Eclipse, and become types of ugliness and horror, imagines Heaven has blest her with the superna­tural Gift of enchanting all that look on her. Did you ever behold anything more extravagant, than the Habits and Dresses she affects?

I am ready to fancy sometimes, that those in­sensible things are indu'd with reason; and to be re­veng'd of her for depriving them of that right and priviledge, they enjoy in all others, by a malicious kind of artifice increase her natural de­formity. Are the apish toyes and vanities, where­with she endeavors to disguise her decripedness; the scandalous inclination of her heart, which ready to take leave of the World, and drop into the Urn, cannot yet take leave of youthful de­sires; and that insatiable rage, which causing her to forget the respect she owes to the memory of Pollio, makes her stoop to her own disgrace, and in the face of the whole World, infamously court a poor contemptible Shepherd? Are these, I say, qualities, to induce me to regard these hours, as a pleasure and diversion, I should dedicate to the loath'd Amour of Nerisa?

Phila had scarce pronounc'd these last words, when I thought I heard a noise very near us, and indeed it was Nerisa; who having listn'd to our discourse, and not able any longer to be Mistress of her patience, flung away in a fury; which alarm'd us with the effects of it. I made haste to disco­ver, what it was; but being forc'd to fetch a great circumference round, before I could find a place to look over the Hedge, Nerisa had convey'd her self away with such speed, that I could not catch a sight of her. She sent that very day for Melibeus; and having severely checkt him for a criminal negligence, or consent, related to him the amorous Dialogue, which had past betwixt us. This intelligence did not produce in the spirit of Meli­beus the effect she expected; He knew, I might love Corydon without violating the laws of na­ture; [Page 259] but judging that I could not be inamour'd with the counterfeit Shepheard, but I must be made acquainted with the secret, which so much con­cern'd her, and by that means frustrate all the pre­cautions of Antiochus, he dispatcht away an Express to advertise him of what had happen'd. Antiochus made all hast imaginable to come and snatcht his daughter out of the jaws of those imminent disasters, which he apprehended her to be threatned with: He arriv'd privately at the house of the old Shepheard; and whilst I was taking a progress to Syracusa, whither Caesar's orders had commanded me, he rob'd me of my felicity, and Sicily of its glory, by conveying her out of it. Consider the destruction I was seiz'd with, when I was inform'd of this cruel Rape, which Antiochus had committed more upon my repose, then the inclinations of his Daugh­ter. I presently sent for Melibeus, and omitted neither intreaties, nor menaces, to extort a real confession of the truth from him: But he with with an obstinate loyalty conceall'd the fatal se­cret, and making several solemn protestations, with a dissembled frankness which deluded me, that he was both innocent, and ignorant of any design re­lating to Phila, possest me with a strong appre­hension, that Nerisa, had by violence secur'd her in some place or other. I run to her, and demand­ed her of her, in terms that neither had respect to her Sex nor Quality; and arraigning her lust­ful Ardors, and Designs, before the Tribunal of her Modesty and Honor, I rais'd her impatience to the highest pitch of fury. She had the same jealou­sie and suspition of me, as I had of her; and thundring them forth in my ears in vollies of reproaches, as extravagant, as unjust, upbraided me with that, [Page 260] which none was able to do, but her self. Meli­beus, said she, has doubtless checkt his Nephew for effecting so unnatural a correspondence with thee, and thou fearing that his sharp reprehensi­ons should dissolve that shameful Intrigue, has con­vey'd him away thy self; and in the mean time with an audacity and impudence, which merits the chastisement of the Gods, does charge me with a violence, infinitely more justifiable on my side, than on thine.

This erronious frenzie of Nerisa, drew some sighs from me; and I had suddenly after a fresh subject to renew them. Melibeus receiv'd intelli­gence that Antiochus dy'd in his return with his Daughter to Athens; and his death having advanc'd on him with such speed and violence, that it allow'd him not the time to write to Melibeus, he knew not in what part of the World to begin his search for her. This misfortune triumph't over all the glory of his former discretion and prudence; he complain'd of the cruelty of his destiny, and made an open declaration of that, he had till then con­ceal'd with so much care, and fidelity. This No­velty surpriz'd all Sicily, and attracted upon me so many mournful condolements, that I was not able to support them, whereupon I resolv'd to ex­change that now unpleasing Climate, for another, that might not recal the memory of Phila so of­ten to my thoughts, as the objects would do, that I should behold there.

I came to Rome, where I grew familiar with Ci­cero, as I told Tullia yesterday: He was well pleas'd I should come and visit him in his voluntary Exile, I came one day to see him, and being told by his Servants, that he was gone forth to take a walk in [Page 261] that same Wood, out of which you saw his Daugh­ter and Terentia come to receive us, I hastned thither; and with an eager curiosity, examining all places to find him, I happen'd to cast an acci­dental glance upon a young Pine-tree, as I past by it; and fixing my eye more intentively upon it, I discover'd some Cyphers engrav'd on the Bark of it, which were, methought, of too youthful and too amorous a character, to intrude themselves in­to the solitude of Cicero. I read them, and as soon as I had found him, I begin now to believe, said I to him, that the reports which fly about Rome, have something of truth in them, and that you do not court this Retirement for your Mistress, but in reference to some other. Cicero seem'd to be a little troubled at my Compliment; but pre­sently recomposing himself; These are Fables of my Wives invention, said he; who willing to cast a blemish upon the just reasons, I had to repudiate her, alledges a chimerical Amour for the ground and colour of her reproaches. Was it to give a colour to this Fable? answered I, smiling, that your Wife came hither privately to carve Cyphers upon your Trees, intermixt with crost Darts, and other Gallantries, which I find so ingenuously flourish'd upon your young Pines? Cicero seeming to take no notice of what I shewed him, confes­sed his guilt by a sudden blush; and this second surprize, confirming what the first had hinted to me, he thought, I believe, that it would be to no purpose for his lips to deny that, which his eyes had declared to me already.

It is not to be deny'd, Virgil, said he, with as much tenderness as confusion, that my age, study, and my vexatious resentments for the publick dis­orders, [Page 260] have not the power to secure from me the invasions of that passion, wherewith you reproach me. Love neither respects the gravity of years, nor the juncture of affairs; and as long as we possess Hearts animated by Life, we ought to fear, that we may be rob'd of them by Love. I repos'd a most entire presumption in the Maxims of Na­ture; nor could I believe, that at the years of that discretion, werewith the number of them ought to have inspir'd me, I could have been capable of the wanton flames of Youth. But I find that the Politicks of age, transcend those of Eloquence; which causes the Soul to participate of the weak­ness of the Body: And methought, that in the vigor of my youthful years, I had one of greater courage and proof, than I have now, against the attack of that Passion.

I was too sensible my self of the power of Love, to wonder at the effects it produc'd in Cicero. I at­tributed all the applauses, he could desire, to his aged frensie; and this approbation winning his confidence, he invited me to see his Mistress. But, my Lord, how incredible do you think, was my astonishment, when I saw it was the same Phila, whom I so passionately affected? The ripest wis­dom, or the firmest courage would have wanted resolution to encounter such a surprize. I made a loud exclamation, which was able to make a clear discovery of my heart. Phila's admiration was not inferiour to mine, and Cicero's being as great, as that of either of us both, he gave us the liberty of entertaining one another with a long discourse, not having the power to interrupt us.

How Phila? said I to her; Are you become the absolute Mistress of your own disposal? Is the pro­longation [Page 262] of your disguise expir'd? Were you not inform'd I was in Rome? Were you so near it, and would not send to acquaint me with the place of your residence? I neither knew of your being in Rome, reply'd the fair Phila; nor, had I imagin'd it, would it have been possible for me to have sent to you. The restraint I am confin'd to will scarce suffer me to believe, that there is any such place as Rome in the World: and you ought to acknowledge that Love has wrought a great Mi­racle in your favor, that you have obtained the priviledge of seeing me, or speaking to me. It shall never work such another, since this is so little in mine, interrupted Cicero; and whereas this first intrigue of my confidence, has prov'd so fa­tal, I renounce for ever all temptations of expo­sing it to a second: And having said this, he made a sign to an old Woman, who was Guardian over her, to withdraw her into an Arbor, which was near us; and measuring the Walks with long and hasty paces, exprest so much grief and vexation in all the motions of his person and countenance, that I began to fear some funest effect of his rage.

How? Cicero, said I, is it you that inveigh with such zeal and violence against all invasions of the publick liberty, and commit one of such horror and barbarism your self? What preroga­tive can you challenge over this person? And by what authority do you pretend to usurp a right to enslave her to this unworthy condition? By the authority, which Parents may usurp over their Children, reply'd Cicero: Antiochus dying, with his last breath, bequeath'd me all he was ever Ma­ster of: and since the Prerogative, he has given me over her, is become so incompatible with your de­sires, [Page 264] I advise you, as a friend, to use your early endeavors to suppress them. Phila is my right only; I receiv'd her as a Legacy from her Father; and that you may not suspect, that I tyrannically usurp a power, which I have no title to, see here, said he, drawing a Paper out of his Pocket, the last Will and Desires of that good man. I read the Writing he put into my hands, and found that Antiochus, after he had magnified by many endearing expressions, the friendship contracted betwixt him­self and Cicero, during his sojourn in Athens, in the time of Sylla's Tyranny, declar'd, That he con­sign'd wholly to him the tuition and guardianship of his only Daughter; advertis'd him where he should find her in Rome under the name of Plautia, and desir'd him to take her to Wife, since his divorce from his own, gave him the liberty of a second Marriage; or else to choose a Husband for her, with the same freedom and authority, as he should have us'd himself, had Heaven conserv'd his life. Do you judge now, went he on, that whither af­ter what I told you, at the beginning of our converse, I shall not take care to see the last Will of my dying Friend executed with all fidelity? Can you be so vain, to conceive any hopes of ra­vishing Phila out of my hands, or the power of my desires? And do you imagine, that if I could have been able to have subdu'd them, I would not have done it long since for my own considerati­on, rather than now for yours.

I combated the design of Cicero, with all the vehemency, and all the eloquence, love could in­spire me with; and not that day only, but ma­ny more following also. I omitted neither intrea­ties, nor arguments to oblige him to restore Phila [Page 265] to her native liberty, and that of choosing a Hus­band for her self. Methought, they began to make some impression upon his relenting obstinacy; Great Souls will always at last re-assume their own character; and the first weakness, they are capable of, are but, as sudden storms, which as suddenly pass. But the flight of Phila destroy'd in a moment all these glorious hopes; and though, to do Cicero justice, I am oblig'd to say, that he was ready in favor of my inclinations to impose a violence upon his own, yet I must likewise declare, that he has been the fatal author of all the cala­mities and discontents, my life has ever since been forced to groan under.

It is not Cicero alone, whom you ought to make the subject of your accusations, said Cornelius, I am acquainted with all the particulars of Phila's flight; and though she always conserv'd that which concern'd you, as a most nice secret, from my knowledge, I have some cause to apprehend, that a Rival who lay conceall'd, has done you more injury, than that which openly professed himself to be so.

Cornelius could not have the opportunity of ex­plaining this Mystery to Virgil; for the arrival of Crassus (who having taken his last leave of Rome, and understanding that this Praetor, who was his particular friend, was to lodge in Tusculum that night, had taken it in his way) interrupted their farther discourse. They comforted each other in their disgrace and sufferings; and pro­jected those designs, which a little after sent them both away to visit their Fellow-Heroes in the Isle of Thalassia.