The Mute Almandarin to the [...] happy [...] ▪

SInce that death, which I have [...] is shortly to bring [...] rejoyne me with the best part of my selfe▪ I [...] ( [...] enemy of Alman [...]) [Page 12] together with his heart, leave thee the History of his fortunes and tell thee that one sad blowe hath freed thee from that noble and worthy Rivall, who, alone, could dispute with thee, the possession of Alcidiana. Accept of these two presents; and if it be a verity that the greatnesse of thy valour, would never triumph over those it had subdu'd, use not Almanzor with lesse humanity then thou hast done others. Be favourable to his Petiti­ons, hearken to the words of his heart, forget thine own interests, to do an act worthy thy transcendent vertue; and if ever thy good destiny bring thee to the inaccessible Island, present to the too fair Alcidiana, this heart which the enamored Almanzor hath sacrific'd to her, as the worthiest victime by which he could testifie the excesse of his zeal, and pas­sion to serve her. Almanzor, O! Polexander, was extraordinarily, but surely most justly destinated to succeed the valiant Zabaym, who since forty yeers raign'd in that fair and delightfull country, which in the midst of the heat of the Torrid Zone, conserves a per­petuall spring and continuall fr [...]ischeur. Zabaym having (almost to the losse of himself) lov'd the vertuous Almanzaira, who by an admired miracle, (in all Africa) was borne white on the banks of Zaira, forsook her for some considerations of love and jealousie, presently after he married a fair young Lady, who by the powerfull lustre of her eyes, and her enchanting wit, was capable to set the crowns of the whole world on her own head. Of this conjunction came Almanzor, who was bred up on the banks of Senega, with all the care that the love of the father, and ambition of the mother were capable to finde out for his conservation. He was but four yeers old, when Fortune, weary of her long favouring the Queens designes, overthrew the very foundations on which she had built them: She had a strange curiosity to know things to come, and to that end imploi'd her credit, her intreaties and treasure, to draw to her from all parts of Africa those whom she thought fit to content her desire: amongst a great number of deceiving Juglers, that were about her, there was a famous Dervis, which she had against his will enforc'd from his solitarinesse on the Mount Atlas, who being urg'd to tell her the fortune of her self and sonne, one day spoke to her thus: Happy Queen, I see not thy greatnesse threat­ned, by any of those accidents, by which crownes are often throwne from the heads of Kings. Thou shalt die in thy royall-fortune, and even those who now are jealous and en­vie at thy glory, shall at last, come and petition thee for thy amity and protection. There is only one thing, without which, thou shouldst be exempted from the generall condition of mankinde; I know how sensible you are in that place where I must now touch you, but I should be ingratefull for all that you have done for me, if I should deal with you, as men do usually with Kings; and if fearing to disquiet you, I should suffer you to run to, and fall down a precipice, which by you may easily be avoyded. Know then, that this sonne, in whom (as lines in a centre) all your thoughts meet and end, and for whom there is nothing you would not undertake, will run the hazard to die by the hand of a woman. Hinder this mishap, and I warrant thee the immutability of thy fortune; so ended this Diviner, and instantly took leave of the Queen. This Princesse aff [...]ighted with this pre­diction, had neither regard to the remonstrances, nor prayers; no not to the command­ments of the King, but from his armes took the young Almanzor, and the fear of losing him, made her consent to a far absence, and by that absence to his ruine; she presently sent for me, and telling me, that I was the only man that could preserve to her her sonne; gave him me with a charge to get me far from any town, or commerce with wo­men, and to nourish him in the Desarts, till the constellation which threatned him were passed over. My inclination, which from my infancy made me an enemy to a Sex alwayes so cruell, or at least inconstant, found its proper element in the will of the Queen. I made me ready for this long exile, and to make it to me as secure as delightfull, I reserv'd to me of all my slaves, none but my Eunuches; the little Almanzor, and my self, forsook the pleasant banks of Senega, and the stately Palace which Zabaym had built on the decli­ning of that great rock, to which the Portugals have given the name of Cape Vert: af­ter a journey of some few dayes, we came into a Forrest, not far from the Sea, where the Queen had prepared a fit place for her sonnes retirement: we pleased our selves there, and liked the place so well, that we did ordinarily talk of the state and magnificence of the Court, with a kinde of contempt; our lodgings were bedewed round with lively and cleer fountains, and every where we found exercise for our courage, against the Li­on, [Page 13] Leopards, or other wilde beasts, we abode there above fifteen yeers, and during that time, hunting, or fishing were almost our sole recreations; sometimes meditation and letters tooke the place of their enemies; but the stirring and warlike humour of Alman­zor, drawing him to labour and action, rarely would suffer him to enjoy the rest and the sedentary life of a Student; yet when the violence of his exercise had brought him to his chamber, he would willingly heare me; and the subtilty of his wit piercing into things the most abstruce, he learn'd almost of himself, that which the most knowing Arabians could not without much labour make me comprehend.

One day, wherein (for our common disaster) I could not follow him a hunting, he was so earnest at it, that leaving behinde him both hounds and hunters, he lost himself in the Forrest, and was there part of the night, I was gotten on hoseback to go after, when I perceiv'd him afar off coming in very slow pace. O, what an alteration saw I in him, and how different from what he was wont to be! instead of that mirthsomenesse which he had usually in his countenance, and of that fire which sparkled in his eyes, when he had killed some Lion; I saw his face all clouded with sadnesse, mingled with anger, and marked how his eyes were all swolne with teares which he had lately shed, I aligh­ted as soon as he, and embracing him as I was wont to do, I told him I was glad of his sport; and yet withall, found fault that he held my requests in no more esteem. My Master, said he, (for so he called me) I finde my self most unfortunate, for the enjoying of so good a chase; I say, unfortunate, in such a degree, that to free my self from such an horrible mishap, I am resolved to die. I replied, is it to renew my disquiets? or to try the love I bear you, that you talke to me in so sad a language? What dream you on Al­manzor? or what prodigious melancholy hath made such a change in you in so short a time? He answered, My Master, I shall never be so ingratefull to finde my diversions in your discontents, nor so distrustfull, as to put your affection to any new triall: I know what I owe you, and how well you love me; but to perswade me to live after the mis­fortunes that are befallen me, were to take pleasure and rejoyce at my shame. What Monster cried I, interrupting him, what herbe, or what Enchanter is there in these For­rests whose hidden power hath caused so extraordinary an alteration? Almanzor, my deare childe, whither is your reason vanished, which gave you so cleer an insight in all things? Doth there remain no more of it then will serve for our destruction? Will you ruine my hopes, and recompence the pains I have undergone in your breeding, by a dis­pair, into which your resolutions will plunge me? Live, my deare Master, (answered he without being moved) live content, and let that wretch die, who by one only act hath made it appear that he possest none of those vertues you taught him. You have alwayes advised me to temperance and humility, and I finde my self in the extremity of pride and ambition: you have often told me, that freedome and generosity, were the first qua­lities of an honest man; and I have comitted an act, the most poor and crafty that can be spoken. What should I say to you? I have shamelesly robb'd a man of his treasure, that could not defend himself; and, as if that theft had made me forget that I come of [...] [...]ace, as yet more obscure then the life which I lead in these Desarts; I have not fea­red to aspire to crownes, and to pretend to a thing yet more precious: But, said he, I waste too much talk and time; hold and marke, see there my booty, and withall, the cause of my boldnesse and dispair: herewith he delivered me this fatall box, which hath cost already so many lives and so much blood: I took it, considered the Diamonds, and the engraving, I open'd it, and by that it was an easie matter for me to explicate the meaning of the hidden discourse of my dear Almanzor. Alas, can I say what I saw with­out ending my miserable destiny? I saw that picture so fair, and dangerous, whose origi­nall is not lesse inaccessible then her place of abode, where, it seemes, the gods gave her birth for the destruction of brave men. You are now, (O Polexander) the lawfull pos­sessor of this portraict; and grant, O Fortune, that it be not so deadly to you, as it hath been to the constant Almanzor. As soon as I knew his griefe, I tried to cure him by con­temning it: if you love Diamonds, (said I) I have at my command far fairer then those you have found; and if this crowned picture make you affect crownes, I can satisfie your ambition, provided that by your vertue, you will make your self worthy to weare them. Ah my dear Master, (answered he) if my soul be covetous, it is neither of gold nor Dia­monds; [Page 14] and if it be ambitious, it is not to possesse indifferently all sorts of crowns; I love them, but tis on the head, or to say better, in the possession of that faire Princesse. What call you a fair Princesse (I replied) with a voyce that signified my displeasure. The picture which you see is nothing but the vaine amusement of some idle man, who joyning his colours to his proportions, would expose to our view, I know not what greable and pleasant fantasie, which never yet had being in nature, doe not continue your cunning (said Almanzor) I now conceive what hath been the end of your lessons and retirement. But my deare Master fortune is more ingenious then you; read this paper and you shall see that this is not the vaine strength of imagination of the pain­ter. I tooke the paper and found on it verses, which had this superscription: To the incomparable Alcidiana Queene of the inaccessible Island. I read the praise of this Princesse, without the consideration of any thing, save the losse of my paines and time, the ruine of all the preventions of the Queen of Senega, and the sad, but infallible ac­complishment of those predictions which had driven us into the Forest. I protest that greife and anger, tooke not only my speech from me, but with it my discretion; so that I had not enough, left me to conceale my discontent. Almanzor seeing me so transpor­ted. What (said he) is this picture so dreadfull to Philosophers, and made-up-men, as to hunters and children? Can the ridiculous fancy of a painter, stagger that great soule, which seem'd to have exhausted all the learning of the Doctors of Fez & Thunis? Would to the Gods, (I answer'd seriously) O Almanzor that you had look'd on this picture, with the same eyes I di [...]! You had found there both cause of a version and neglect, where­as now for the generall misfortune, of so many, who expected their safety, from your wisdome and valour; you have met where withall to make you a slave to a brutish passi­o [...], and may be to languish all your life in slavery, sloth, and despaire. I will prevent [...] shamefull brutalities, and great disasters, replied Almanzor, and I had already taken t [...] f [...]re from you, if (before my death) I had not desired to make use of your fidelity, for the restitution of what I have stolen. But my deare Master, if it be a truth that you [...] Alm [...]zor, trouble not your selfe any furth [...]r, to make him alter his resolution. He [...]st love: and because he is unworthy, prepares [...]imselfe for death. Yes divine Alcidi­ [...]a, it shall not be spoken [...]at a barbarous fellow, [...]orne in the Deserts of Africa, hath (unpunished) dar'd to cast his eyes on your incomparable beauty. The rash Almanzor shall perish, and his bloud shed, for the expi [...]tion of hi [...] offence, shall serve for an admo­nishment to oth [...]s like [...]im, that those [...] [...]o have [...] enough to avenge the Gods, that have imp [...]y sufficient [...]o [...] the [...]. A [...] ingrat [...]ll Fortune! Why giv'st thou m [...] thoug [...]s [...]o [...] my co [...]ion, so [...] to my apprehension. Since I was borne f [...] the Wi [...]sse and wil [...] [...]sts, why have I not low desires, and bru­tish imaginations? The agitations and dis [...]rse of Almanzor, shewing me evidently that h [...]s wounds had [...] ye [...] [...] enough, to apply the first remedy: I intended to let time w [...]ke, and to give way to the [...] of a [...] which I could not stop, that I might not be altogether [...]rofitable in desiring to be too rigorous. I therefore began to [...]tter this y [...]ung Prince, and told him that love was a passion which might be divers waies considered: That in some it insp [...]red the greatnesse of actions, and as such she might be justly call'd the Mother of fame and glory; but in others, as the Daughter of idlenesse, she betraied their birth and courage, [...]often their hardiest inclinations, and breeding in the Heroes themselves desires, weake, and [...]ffeminate, making them betake [...]mselves to the needle and the distaffe. My deare Almanzor, (I added) it shall be you [...] [...], if you make not good use of a matter so proper to all kind of formes. Let her have [...] fairest she is capable of; and doe not imitate those cunning but capricious Artisans, which come off in nothing so well [...] in making Monsters. My Master (answered Alman­zor) my passion is of those that inspires high resolutions, and swaies the minde to glori­ous actions; but what boots it me to have these motions, since I want the power to put th [...]m in execu [...]ion, and possesse not those great Fortunes, without which the fairest vir­tues lie unexercis'd? Almanzor, accompanied his discourse with so many sighes and [...]eares, that being no longer able to hide what till then he was ignorant of; comfor [...] your selfe said I, and hope well i [...] the goodnesse of our Gods. If so be that you will pro­mise me, banish from your thoughts, [...] wherein your young [...] finde [...] [Page 15] so many pleasures: I will discover to you such secrets as shall make you acknowledge how infinitely you are obliged to Nature and Fortune. He had scarce heard me, when throwing himselfe at my feet, and embracing my knees, my deare Master said he, I will live, if I may doe it without shame; but doe not abuse my credulity to retard my death; you cannot deceive me long, and in doing so, you will have done nothing but added another death to that I have already prepared me. Almanzor said I, I will never betray you; know then that you are borne to be a King, and are the Son of the victorious Sa­baym, who by his valour and conquests hath reduc'd almost into one Monarchy, all the estates which are watered by the one, and the other Nyle. At this day he reignes, and happily; and he constrained by the love which he bore you, to hide you in these deserts, he did me the honour to trust you to my fidelity. The generous Almanzor was not tou­ched with the least pride to heare himselfe in an instant so elevated. He was on his knees when I began this discourse, and remained so after I had ended it▪ and though I entrea­ted him often to rise, no, no, my deare Master said he, let us be still (if you please) the same that we were. Fortune that hath beene able to change my condition, shall never alter my nature. You have given me documents which are not subject to her inconstan­cy. I will keepe them till death, and if to be royally borne cause any alteration in my minde, it shall be only such as you will wish for. My dispaire is ended, and hope suc­ceeds it, since (without too much boldnesse) it is permitted me to raise my thoughts, to contemplate the portraict of Alcidiana: And to put in practise those brave things that you have taught me. With this, he rose and taking me by the hand, my Master said he, two new displeasures trouble the peace and quiet which you give me. The remorse of conscience stings me. I feele, I know not what, that reprocheth me, the basenesse I acted in stealing the Picture of Alcidiana; and a jealousie that freezeth my heart, tells me that the true owner of this Portraict is a Monster, which should not be suffered to li [...] any longer. I will therefore instantly goe and restore it, and withall submit my selfe to what he pleaseth, for the reparation of the wrong I have done him. But after I [...]ave given him a full satisfaction, I will regaine by a just combate that which I can neither keepe without a just infamy, nor leave forever, without the giving my selfe over to my first despaire. You (may be) may imagine that my resolutions come from those impetuous and inconstant flyings-out that usuall accompanies youth; beleeve it not my deare Mas­ter, for I would have you to esteeme me unworthy of your care and instruction; that the hope of ever seeing Alcidiana be taken from me, if I follow not to the death, the execu­ting of that I have propos'd. The Prince here staying, to let me speake; I told him that in lieu of imputing the altering his intentions to the imprudency and heat of his age, I would give him the title of a discreet man, if considering the greatnesse of his birth and the duties that were linked to it, he would sacrifice his love, his pleasures, and the thought of Alcidiana, to the welfare of so many people, who after the death of Zabaym, ex­pected their happinesse and support from his wisdome and courage. And it is not because I will now condemne for a vice, that which lately I praised for a virtue; but there meet so many difficulties in what you undertake, that though I approve of the cause, I cannot allow of the effects. I beleeve that Alcidiana may be as faire as this Picture shewes her; nay I will goe farther, and on the faith of the Poet, that hath so much prais'd her, I yeeld that she had an excellent wit, a conversation incomparable, and that there is no lesse sweetnesse then majestie in her eyes; let us now see the reverse of this Medall, and without being too indulgent, or too severe to your passion, let us consider what you would undertake. You aime at a happinesse which none can attaine to: You seeke for a treasure unknowne to your selfe, and to all the world besides; and your enterprise seems to me no lesse unreasonable, then if you went about to make a way up to Heaven, to fetch thence one of the Goddesses we suppose there. Here Almanzor interruptingme, my deare Master I pray (said he) stop there. I conceive what you would say; but know, that, that which doth usually smother the desires of most men, is it, which increaseth mine. The difficulty excites my appetite. I would penetrate further then is permitted to my equals, and have made knowne my courage by the impossibility of those things I under­take, if I cannot doe it by the felicity of my successe. And now I will tell you by what chance the Picture of Alcidiana came into my hands, and thereby, make you confesse, [Page 16] that there is a fatality in my adventure. You have heard from my companions the begin­ning of our chase; I will only tell you what betided me after I was stragled from them.

The Lionesse which we had strook, lead us so quick, and so far, that my company and my dogs being left behind, I spurred on alone after her, and with much eagernesse, I fol­lowed, till her speed was too good for my horse, and so I lost her; weary then, and ill pleased with the chase, I alighted, and from the middle of that rock, whose trees rang'd one above another, make an admirable Piramis; I stood long considering the vast ex­tention of the sea, which, by I know not what horror, full of Majesty, at one time, both astonisheth the understanding, and ravisheth the sense: I saw in the road a very great Ship, and afterwards a Shallop, which was run on the sand, curiosity, (which is naturall to me) and a desire to know who was landed on our shores, forcing me to leave the woods and the chase; I tied my horse to a tree, and by divers windings on the mountain came down to that little haven where we are wont to take boat for our fishing; from thence I perceived amongst those trees, which cover the Lions fountain, something extremely shining: At first I thought it had been one of those fair serpents which have their scales, as it were gilded; but the object growing greater, as I drew neerer, I distinctly saw that it was a man armed at all points; when I was some ten or twelve paces from him, I per­ceived he slept, and that he was unawares fallen asleep, because he had before him the picture of Alcidiana, and held in his hand the paper that I shewed you. I drew neerer to him as softly as I could, and by chance having cast mine eyes upon that divine face, (which henceforward must make my good or bad fortune) I stood so surprized, that it was impossible to take me off; the more I saw it, the more I desired to see it: From the pleasure of seeing, I passed to the desire of possession, and without thinking on the stealth, I was about the act, I was enforced by an Imperious and blind motion, to take from him this fair portaict, with the paper which the Knight had moistned with his teares. It fell out happily for me, that as I was about to take it from him, if fell out of his hands, as soone as I had them both, I fled. I was now gotten far into the Forrest, when my reason, got again into the place whence my transport had thrust her, What dost thou (said she) Almanzor? Hath the wise and valiant Almandarin so carefully bred thee up and tutored thee, that thou shouldest turn thief? consult with, and be advised by thy con­science, and she will tell thee that she is tormented with a cruell remorse. But thou dost but too well know thy offence, since it compells thee to fly, and makes thee fear, that this great Forrest is neither obscure, nor thick enough to hide thee. I confesse, (my deare Master) this consideration staid me on the sudden, and made me turn backward: but another thought more proude, absolute, and perswading my preoccupated ima­gination represented to me, my theft, as a conquest, and spake to me so disadvan­tagiously of the sleeping Knight, that it made me passe for a thief that robs in the sight of all the world, that he may possesse without trouble, a treasure whereof he thinks himself unworthy. It continued on thus; twas for thee only Almanzor, that Love and Fortune ordain'd it; keep it without seruple, as the gods gave it thee with­out condition; and run and search both by Land and Sea, to find the place where raigneth the miracle which this picture representeth. Whilest this strange Counsellor advised me thus pleasingly, I walked a round pace, and got to the place where I had tied my horse, I leapt on him with haste and feare, that made me sensible enough of my fault, but the violent and delicious poyson, which by the sight of this fair picture had troubled my judgement, would not suffer me to make any reflection upon mine offence; it made me take pleasure in it, even then, when I condemned it, and took from me its hatred, in disguising the foolishnesse of it; I was gotten hither before I discovered it; but your discouse hath unblinded mine eyes, and I now see my action with all his blacknesse and deformities: I likewise make a solemne vow to be my self the avenger of this crime, and to enjoy neither rest nor contentment, till I have restored again this picture into the hands of the Knight from whom I stole it. After he had finished these different discour­ses, he commanded one of his slaves to bring him a horse, and without lending an eare to any of my reasons, or to tarry till day, he parted from me, and returned to the place where he had found the Knight sleeping. He came thither at day-break, but in vain, for the Knight was gone; and after Almanzor had track'd the footings left in the sand, [Page 17] he knew that the man he search'd for, was again put to Sea: His sorrow was so much in seeing his ill without a remedy that had it not beene hindred by the strength and force of his slaves, he had then slaine himselfe, and made an end of his mi­serable destiny. Back he came more sadde, more asham'd, and more deject [...]ed, then if effect [...]ually he had beene as guilty as he imagin'd.

Two daies entire he spake to me of nothing but his pretended theft; and if the thought of Alcidiana and her Picture, (on which his eyes were almost alwaies fixed) had not diverted his melancholy imaginations, griefe and shame had infallibly killed him. I knew not what counsell to take neither for himselfe nor me, when happily, what say I? When unhappily, for all Africa, I receiv'd letters from Zabaym and the Queen his wife. They sent me word that the constellation which threatned their Son, had been chang'd by the death of Almanzaira, and therefore to satisfie their mutuall desire and the requests of their Subjects, I should returne to the Court with Almanzor. I shew'd him the letters, and conjured him to suspend his passions and disquiets, that being recollected to himselfe when he should present himselfe to the King his Father, he might not bely the good opi­nion, which by my letters I had setled in them, of his wit and courage,. My deare Mas­ter (said he) for your sake, I will strive to hide all my defects, and make appeare the ex­cellency of the Artizan by the beauty of the worke. But keepe me not long in this con­straint; and since my love aswell as duty calls me whether you lead me, lets thither with the best haste, and acquit our selves quickly of that which we owe to others, that with­out more delay, we may doe the like, in those things we owe to our selves. I admir'd the strength of this young wit, and breaking off for ever my savage conversation, tooke leave of our Cottages, and the Forests. I will not stand to tell you with what magnifi­cence and joy Almanzor was receiv'd of all the Court, nor the ravishing delights that Zabaym and his Queen tasted at the sight of a Son, who (without flattery) for the sweet­nesse of his aspect, the grace of action, and the beauty of his wit, was not outgone, I will not say by any African, but by the best compos'd of all Europe. Zabaym held him long in his embraces, and jealous of so rare a treasure, would not suffer the Queen to take him from his armes, nor the deare Son to render what he ought to the love, the teares, and impatiencies of so good a Mother. These first agitations being some what calm'd; Zabaym who long before had prepar'd all things to settle Almanzor in possession of his Kingdome, made his will knowne to his Subjects; and a little time after himselfe con­ducted Almanzor to the famous Temple of Senega, and in the quality of Arch-priest and King, taking the Crowne from his owne head, set it on his Sons. After the applau­dings, acclamations, and other pleasing disorders of great Assemblies had given place to silence. Zabaym addressing himselfe to his Son, with a high voice made them know his reason for what he had done. Since (said he) I came to this Throne by extraordina­ry waies, and that the chances and adventures of my life are rather recorded among the miracles of our Gods then with the actions of men; I dare beleeve that my experience is of more value then all the debatements of my Officers, and that I may ranke my parti­cular opinions before the Maximes of my predecessors. This being so, Almanzor, I am resolv'd to passe ov [...]r all the distrustfull reasons of my Councellors, and put that in exe­cution which I have long time deliberated. In the opinion of most men you are yet but an infant, but I know you too well to give so ill a judgement of you, or to beleeve that you have not ability proportionable to the burthen I have laid on you. I therefore give you without feare, that supreme power which my sword and paines have acquired me; and to open you a way to the conquest of all Africa, I resigne to you both my hopes, and Armies. On then (with so faire omens) beyond the one and the other Nyle, subdue the obstacles of our Mountaines and Deserts, penetrate even into Ethiopia, and make Africa which is now divided into so many Kingdomes, to be the inheritance of one sole man. I know you ought to be very fortunate, to bring to a good effect such great execu­tions: But infallibly you shall be so, provided, that your wisdome be not too cleersigh­ted, nor your courage too blind. Fortune yeelds to whosoever will violate her, and would have that respect which is borne her to be mixed with boldnesse. Here Zabaym ended; and fixing his eyes on his Son, looked for his answer, that he might judge, whether he were worthy those hopes he had conceived of him. Though Almanzor had [Page 18] pretentions directly opposite to those of his Father, yet in appearance he seemed to fol­low his conceptions, and to witnesse it, made him this answer: I know sir, that having the honour to be descended from you, I ought to be of more value then those who have not that advantage. Yet tis not alwaies an infallible necessity, that the excellentest things produce their like. But for feare of offending a judgement which without doubt hath in it something of divine, I renounce all distrust of my selfe, and goe (since it is your pleasure) to learne from time and occasions, if you be as good a prophet, as you are [...] Father. Goe my Son said Zabaym in embracing him, goe, boldly, and submit thy selfe to those rigorous trialls; I promise thee henceforward, and if thou beleeve thine owne courage, be assured, that neither the Nyle nor the red Sea shall be any more put in the number of the bounds of Africa. Almanzor at last being freed from these magnificent importunities, thought of nothing more then of the meanes to be rid of the Crowne which Zabaym had set on his head, and to meet with the owner of Alcidianaes Picture-Fortune who is but too favourable where she resolves to doe a mischiefe, offred this young Prince a faire occasion to execute his designe.

Three Portugall Vessels were by a storme forced into the river of Senega, and that being a Nation so covetous and industrious, that they will even make a benefit of their owne misadventures, foure hundred men landed, and made an extreame spoile in some places not far from the royall Pallace. Almanzor, hastned thither forced them to leave their booty, and to take from them for ever after the daring to set foot ashore in any of those territories, beat them home to their shallop [...]. Some were slaine in attending his fearfull blowes (whereby the King made knowne his extraordinary valour in his first combat) others were drowned in getting to their vessells, and those which got abord, found there but little more safety; for Almanzor getting the mastry of two shallops, shipped in them some of his best souldiers, and himselfe advancing through the fire and smoake of the Canon, gave them not over till he had either killed or forced into the Sea, all that were in the greatest Portugall Ship. His followers borded the other, and after an obstinate fight, gloriously accomplished their Princes intention. These three vessells thus conquered, and many Portugalls taken prisoners, Almanzor called me, and asking me what I thought of this combat, my Master said he, I doe not aske you this question, to the end you should praise me, but to let you see what advantages and opportunitie [...] the defeate of the Portugalls hath given me. Know that my vowes are accomplished, since I have where withall to find that Island, which in spite of its name and scituation [...] be [...]o me no longer inaccessible. But first it behooves that by a just title I possesse the [...] o [...] Alcidiana; and that I force the Knight from whom I stole it (he blushed in [...] so) not only to renounce his right, but for ever to abandon all his hopes in the [...]. Lets away then whilst all things are fitting for our departure, and let us not [...] fearfull spirits, who by the protracting of their deliberations, lose the [...] execution. The conceptions of this Prince had many times already asto­ [...] [...]; but this last added horror to my wonder. His discourse was a clap of thunder [...] ▪ I was struck downe and sencelesse, yet the present necessity recalling my spirits: My Lor [...] said I to Almanzor there was a time when it might have been permitted you to take these resolutions, and you might have committed some faults without being questioned; but now, when so many soules live not but by you, and that our Atlas is less [...] necessary to the supporting the Heavens, then you are to the conservation of Africa, you can no more dispose of your selfe. You owe both your selfe and passions to the ne­cessity of your Estate; yet the only Alcidiana▪ (who at this time to make search for▪ th [...]ough all toiles and dangers is your esteemed glory) is the felicity of your Subjects. He answered, my Master if I would make use of that soveraigne aucthority to which you would tie me as a slave, I should take away your liberty of contradicting me, but that we may still be the same we have been, I give you leave to use your freedome of speech, pro­vided that I find fault with your instruction, since you know that love and a Crowne are incompatible, why have you advised me to joyne them together? Or why would not you have me now to acquit my selfe of a duty which hath a precedency, and is more an­tient in my soule then that of royalty; no, no, I will never rob me of my selfe to give me to others; or if I must needs be a slave, it shall be only to live under the commands of [Page 19] Alcidiana. But O faire Princesse can I give eare to a man that talkes to me against your service [...] Away, all considerations of greatnesse and vanity: Your chaines are of more value then my Crowne, and the dart wherewith my heart is wounded, more desired of me, then the Scepter they have given me. After this transport, Almanzor stood a while silent, and on the suddaine embracing me, lets on, said he, lets on my deare Master where those felicities calls us which are not to be found in a Throne. Thereupon he called for the most part of the Portugall prisoners and using them as they had been his friends, pro­mised them all both their lives and liberties, if they would engage themselves to bring him to the Inaccessible [...]sland. One of the Portugalls speaking for the rest: The condi­tion saies he that you propose to us, for the regaining our liberties is an absolute deniall of it. Set us on things possible and we will execute them with the hazard of our lives. This bold and wise reply, exceedingly pleased the King, and obliged him to explicate his proposition. I am (said he) far from intending to engage you or your companions in impossibilities, no not so much as to will you to the discovery of a Country yet un­knowne: You know that the Isle whither I would saile, though it carries the name of Inaccessible, is not so, since it is discovered; and it must needs be true that a vessell which I saw on these coasts came thence not long since. The Portugall answered the King, that he spake nothing that was not most certaine; that the Island mentioned had beene discovered by a Pilot of his Nation, that it was but a hundred leagues from the Canaries, and that comming from Spaine they made it on the North of those Isles. That divers had been by tempests cast on it, or by chance arrived there, and that those which inhabit the Canaries had with all kind of industry and expences tried to make themselves masters of it, but their paines and endeavours had been without any good successe. Almanzor intreated the Portugall to relate to him what he had heard or learnt touching that Island and the Inhabitans there. The Isle, answered the prisoner, is so fertile, that those who have seen it, beleeve, that the ancients in consideration of it only, stiled happy those Islands which now we call the Canaries. The verdure and flowers are there everlast­ing, the harvests and the fruits, are above the hope and desire of the most covetous, and the inhabitants live there in such a vigour, that at threescore and fourescore yeares old they may passe for young. There are many Townes. The Capitall is one of the mira­cles of the World, and is inhabited by people, in whom, valour, politenesse, and courte­sy are inseperable. The Princes which till this time have governed it, finding all abun­dance, all pleasures and peace at home, have confind all their ambition within the limits of their Island, and have not beleeved that there was any thing else in the world worth their envy. Tis said, that now there reignes there a young Marvell, so full of charmes and virtues that she is the desire of all Princes which have knowne or have heard speake of her. Tis sufficient, said Almanzor, interrupting him; I desire nothing but that you will bring me as neere to that Isle as may. If you can land, the better fortune ours: but if it be impossible, I will have you promise me on your faiths that you will not forsake me for one whole yeare. The Portugall who thought not to be quitted on so easy tearmes, bound himselfe and his companions to serve Almanzor for a yeare in their vessells as faithfully as they had thitherto served the King their Master. Almanzor that would have no other suretie for their promises then their faith, set them at liberty, and from thence­forward adventured himselfe among them with asmuch confidence as he would have done amongst his owne naturall Subjects. The Portugalls made it appeare to him that they were truely generous, for insteed of resenting any shame of their defeate, they lost the memory of it, and all the time they were with Almanzor, they did interest themselves in all his designes with as much passion as if he had been their owne King. Before he set saile, he sent me for his Jewells which were of an inestimable price, and forbad me abso­lutely the seeing of Zabaym or the Queen. I did what he commanded me with as much celerity as griefe and vexation, and the same day came back to the ship wherein he was embarqued. When he saw me returned, we want nothing now (said he) but the fa­vour of love and fortune, let us promise to erect them Temples, that they may not aban­don us in so faire an occasion: this said, he gave leave to those Portugalls which were not usefull for him to depart, and restored to them their liberty, ship, and goods: And himselfe presently got out of the river Senega and set saile towards the Canaries. We [Page 20] had now lost sight of the pleasant mountains of Cape-verd, when a vessell of greater bur­then then ours, saluted us a far off, with the discharge of his Canon, and commanded us to strike sail. Almanzor, instructed by his mariners what that noyse meant: answer him again, sayes he, that we will not, and let every one prepare to fight. This boldnesse no way astonished the Portugals, but contrarily, judging by this beginning, that the pro­cesse of their voyage would be glorious and profitable, set themselves in an order, as well to take as defend. The greater vessell (as a man of war accustomed to overcome) shewed. I know not what kinde of fiercenesse, in coming neerer to us, and enough to have terrified some timerous spirits: But the Portugals, who were now in possession of making themselves every where terrible, contemn'd the pride of that enemy, and pre­senting them a broad side, gave them fifteen Canon-shot. Their approaches were more fearfull then they were mortall, although the two vessels, the aire and the sea seem'd all on a flame: After we had we had fought in some distance, we laid one another aboard, and then there began a combat between Almanzor and the Captain of the great vessell, which merits a particular relation. Never strength and addresse were found so equall in two combitants, and never did the greatnesse of courage sustain so long time two bodies so stricken with wearinesse, and infeebled with wounds. But why relate I a combat to thee, that knowest it better then my self; since it was with thee, Polexander, that Al­manzor contested? As soon as the tempest had made an end of this duell, and that thy ship was carried one way, and Almanzors vessell another. This Prince commanded the Portugals to follow thee, if it were possible; and after this order given, went through all the ship, to see who were wounded, amongst his own, he found one of thy souldiers, that lay, as it were, dead; he had a great care of him, and when he saw him in case to speak, ask'd him what thou wert, and what thou lookest for in those seas. I wonder, said the souldier, that thou art ignorant of that which is known to all the world beside. He whom thou knowst not, is called Polexander, a Prince descended from the greatest Kings of Europe, and himself King of all the kingdomes he will look upon. Many are the causes that make him wander these seas: At this time he is in search of that famous Captain of the pirates, Bajazet, to force him to restore a picture which he hath stolne from him. Almanzor thought at first, that he was that pretended pirate, and that by some false intelligence Polexander had been peswaded that Bajazet had the portraict of Alci­diana; he therefore drew it out, and shewing it to the souldier, marke, (said he to him) if this be not the picture which Polexander hath lost? The other viewing it well, cried out, see, see the fatall face, that hath been the cause of all that we have indured, and will yet be the subject of all those dangers which we are yet to run through. O! deare work of my hands, why are not we, or rather, why is not Polexander in that place where his love gave me the invention to limne thee, without the knowledge of Alcidiana: Imagine, great Prince, if after this declaration, Almanzor had care of thy souldier or no, truly he was so chary of him, that he caused him to be lodged in his own Cabin, and com­manding him to be used as himself, entertain'd him continually, either in discoursing of Alcidiana, or of thee. When the souldier recompted to him thy great actions, you might have seen Almanzor stirred with a thousand agitations: sometime he blush'd, as if he had been asham'd of himself, sometime he sighed, as if he had envied so brave a life, some­time he grew cholerick with his destiny, and then talking, as if thou hadst been present; What Polexander (said he) and is all that is valourous, all that is famous, and all that is happy reserved for thee? O how well hath Alcidiana done, to have chosen so deserving an adorer! But what sayest thou, poor and unfortunate Almanzor? knowest thou not that, that Polexander is the the fatall Demon which crosseth thy intentions; and who without all doubt, will make all thy hopes vain and frivolous? Get out, get out, (infamous creature) from this vessell, where unprofitably thou consumest thy time, and finde out this cruell enemy, in what corner soever of land or sea, that fortune hides him from thee. See, Polexander, the different language that one same passion made thee poor Alman­zor guilty of. He grew well this while, and love and jealousie giving him suddenly such strength, that in all likelihood, nature could so soon have brought him, he earnestly be­sought thy souldier to shew him where he might meet with thee. This Prince, said he, is continually at sea, and tries all means to recover the good which he hath lost: some­times [Page 21] he imployes the art and experience of Mariners to attaine it, otherwhile he gives himselfe over to fortune and the winds, and is absolutely resolved to perish, if the heavens have doomed that he shall never more see Alcidiana. Wandring thus on the Sea, thinke with thy self if it be possible for me to denote to thee a place where thou maist find him. Tis true, since the day wherein his incomparable valour saved the Canarians from the Portugalls, and for conserving the liberty which he got them, he accepted the title of their King, he hath sometimes come on shoare in the Isle of Teneriffe, and otherwhile in that which he calls Alcidiana. But his new Subjects have been forced to an extraor­dinary care of his person when he hath been above a day or two on land. I have told thee that one occasion that made him wander so far from the Canaries, was the desire to recover the Picture of Alcidiana. I will relate another to thee, which to him was not lesse considerable: He is in quest of a Pilot of that Queens, who is now at Sea, bound in her name to acquit a vowe, which every yeare the Princes of the Inaccessible Island are obliged to render to some unknowne Gods. When I was in that Kingdome, I learnt a secret touching this ceremony, which to you may seeme fabulous, yet among the Island­ers passeth for a verity which no man must call in question: Tis, that whosoever is cho­sen by lot to goe in the name of the King of that Isle to celebrate the yearely Sacrifice, failes not to meet in his returne, a bird as white as a swan, by whose flight steering his ship, he infallibly finds the right course to the Inaccessible Island. Polexander, who hath no other hope then in meeting with these Pilots, waites for them every spring be­tween the Canaries and the Gorgades. He was so fortunate the last spring that he dis­cried the vessell of Alcidiana, but that good hap was but to encrease his afflictions, for he lost sight of her by the violence of the winds; and in spite of all industry was carried on the coaste of Guine [...]. After he had run the hazard of a ship-wrack among so many Shelves and bancks of sand which makes those coasts so dangerous, he found himselfe in the hands and at the mercy of Pirates, and without that prodigious valour, that makes all those enemies fall at his feet, which fortune raiseth against him, he had been now in the number of those brave slaves of whom the famous Bajazet composeth the principall part of his magnificence. Twas in that very place that he thought he had lost the picture of Alcidiana, but seeing it in thy hands, I begin to beleeve that Bajazet is innocent of that theft, whereof we have so often and so injustly accused him. At that word Alman­zor interrupting him, not only told him by what adventure he got the Protraict, but let him know the reasons which obliged him to follow thee. And since thou hast such a re­solution said the souldier; I advise thee to stand for the Canaries; thou wilt infallibly find there, what thou searchest, and wilt give no lesse contentment to Polexande [...] then thou hopest for in the meeting him. Almanzor followed his advise, and steered thy Islands. If I had undertaken to write all the brave acts of the King my Master, I should now tell thee that he fought twice with the valiant Pirat Thalemut, and after he had as often given him his life and liberty, sent him back to Bajazet with this charge, to tell him that his great reputation, wrought in him an excessive desire to see him with his sword in his hand. I passe by the slight skirmish he had with the Moores, and the massacre he made of them when he heard that by the shot of a musket bullet I had lost my tongue and that he saw me all pierced with wounds fall as dead at his feet: I doe not speake of the delivery and freeing the faire blind Indian Lady, and of the bloudy fight he gave, to pro­tect her from the violence of the Spaniards. I conceale that miracle of judgement and courage, by which he resetled in his Throne the infortunate King of Zanhaga, and come to that sad and glorious day, in which leaving to him the title of conqueror, thou tookest from him that of being invincible. What Heroes have the fables of the Greeks invented, and what Conquerors hath Africk, Asia, or Europe produced, which are not infinitely below Polexander and Almanzor fighting together? Thou Sun which wert witnesse of this dreadfull duell, is it not true that all forgoing ages have not had wherewithall to compare them? And to be a spectator, didest thou not stay longer then thou wert wont on the pl [...]ines of Teneriff? And thou O valiant and courteous Polexander, who that day by one combate gottest two victories; acknoledge that it was not easy to vanquish Almanzor, and that it was altogether a thing impossible to force that indomptable heart to confesse himselfe overcome. How often before he died hath he remembred thy cour­tesies, [Page 22] and how many times taking thy part against himselfe, doe not flatter me, said he, I confesse Almandarin, that Polexander gave me my life. And not to lye, thou didst give it him, and the gift thou gavest was accompanied with civility, sweetnesse, and markes of a high esteeme. When Almanzor covered with bloud and wounds, fell on the earth, and that he saw himselfe in that estate, to lose his life, or to aske it; in lieu of thinking on his conservation, he thought on Alcidiana; and addressing himselfe to her, instead of speaking to thee. Since like the gods, (cryde he) O Alcidiana, thou reignest absolute­ly over the minds of those who have never seene thee; I perswade my selfe too, that, as they, thou beholdest our actions, and readest our very thoughts. Turne then thine eyes upon Almanzor, and receive as a pledge of his perpetuall fidelity, the life which he leaves without sorrow, since to thee alone it is sacrificed. I beleeve, Polexander, that thou hast forgotten what thou didst after this so high generousnesse of Almanzor. But I can well remember that thou disclaimest an assured victory, and giving the honour to thy enemy, thou art conquerour (said you) since our Duell, having for its ground the service of Alcidiana, he onely must be stiled the victor, that hath witnessed most love and con­stancy; And having said thus much, thou tookst thy leave of him, and to leave the Spe­ctators incertaine of the victory, voluntarily forsookst both thy armes and the field. Al­manzor wronged not this courtesie, but confessed his defeate, and all wounded as he was, caused himselfe to be carryed on shipboard, with an intent to restore thee the pi­cture of Alcidiana, and to yeeld himselfe thy slave. But his ill Fate casting him on the Isle of Fer, and his wounds much weakening him, he thought of nothing but to dye, and to dye lingring and slowly, that by his more suffering, he might the more satisfie his pas­sion. And for this, he forbad his Chyrurgions to dresse him, and to leave to posterity a most magnificent and glorious note of his love, rather then of his condition. He caused to be built that brave Monument which thou seest in the Iland of Fer, if ever the remem­brance of that Prince hath made thee bestow any teares on his ashes. I sold all his Iew­els to send into France, Spaine and other where, to buy those materials which I was to imploy in the structure of that Tombe. It was not halfe built, when Almanzor (who kept himselfe retyred and hid from the sight of any) came forth of his first abiding, and tooke possession of his last. The workemen wrought night and day, and yet in the opi­nion of the Prince, they did nothing but lose time. His longings were at last satisfied, for his building was perfected, and his workemen as well as his Mariners sent home with so great rewards, that they filled all Europe with the Name and bounty of Alman­zor. When he saw us two left alone, he shut himselfe up in his Tombe, and after he had conjured me to conforme my selfe to his conceptions; Almandarin (said he) I can now dispose of my life, and by a new wound free a soule out of bonds, that growes wilfull to persist in a shamefull and cruell servitude. But before I lose the power which our reci­procall friendship gives me over thy will, I would have thee engage thy selfe to me by that faith which thou hast never violated, and sweare to me, that after my death, thou wilt fulfill two things, whereon depend the comfort and happinesse I seeke after. Tis, that thou pluck out my heart, and take from me the picture of Alcidiana, which I cannot leave as long as I have any sences. Thou shalt carry them both to Polexander, and throwing thy selfe at his feete, petition him by writing, (since thou canst not otherwise) that he love my memory in regard of my love, and that he will forget my theft, and my jealousie; and seeing that he is infallably to repossesse the treasure which he lost, that he would deigne to present the heart which I send him, to that faire Princesse, for whom onely it would live, and for whose sake alone it hath wished to dye. Imagine great Mo­narch, to what extremities I was driven by so cruell a commandement, and what blasphe­mies I conceived against Fortune, for depriving me of the use of speech, in a time when I had so much need of it. Notwithstanding it behoved me to resolve, there was no re­medy, and forced by the teares, prayers, and furies of Almanzor, I promised him by signes to put his will in execution. I assure my selfe (said he) that thou wilt not faile of thy promises. Come neere then now, and embrace yet once more, that deere Son, who would aske thee pardon for the upbraidings of thy life, if he knew thee not too wise to impute those disasters to him, of which Fortune onely is guilty. Farewell my deere Ma­ster, live, and by undergoing my death with a true constancy, practise that faire doctrine [Page 23] which thou hast so profitably taught me, and with these words, he pierced himselfe to the heart with his sword, and by so speedy and bold a blow surmounting his haplesse fortune, he got that victory, for which she had so long contested with him. I threw my selfe on him, but too late, and stopping his wound with my hand, strove to stop the bloud which gushed out in great bubbles and clots, he thrust away my hand, and falling on his bed, with a countenance wherein you might behold a mixture of extraordinary joy and death got together, at least (said he) do thou Almandrian keepe thy pro: Hee dyed before he could finish the word, and left me with a powerfull example for the con­temning of life. I had not heart enought to make use of it, but my cowardise covering it selfe with a specious pretext of my faith, made me beleeve, that I could not kill my selfe, without suffering in hell those tortures which are reserved for the unfaithfull. I resolved then to live till I had fully executed the last will of the King my Master; and though my despaire oftentimes opposed me in it, I am yet so happy, that before my death I see my promises accomplished. There remaines some part of the will of that Prince not performed, but it is from thy noblenesse that Almanzor expects the execution. Be then sensible of his supplications, of his teares, and bloud! Polexander ended not the fluxe of his teares with the period of this sad story; but turning to Iphidamantus, who was no lesse afflicted then himselfe, and wooing him to teares and sorrow. Let us be­waile (my deare brother, said he) Let us weepe for the losse of Almanzor, and since tis not in our power to restore him his life, let us deerely preserve that which remaines of him. And in thus saying, he tooke the Princes heart, and fixing his eyes on it; As cold as thou art (said he) poore heart, thou yet retaynest thy first fire, and shewest by thy rich prison, that thou wilt still weare the glorious setters of Alcidians: be confident, that if I become fortunate thou shalt have a share of me, that thy vowes shall be accomplished, and that faire Princesse shall know how farre both living and dead thou hast religiously adored her. Polexander finished this promise, just as his trustfull Diceus, (for so they called him of his domestiques whom he best loved) entered his Cabin, and the excesse of his zeale and joy not permitting him to observe all the duties befitting his condition, he stept nimbly to his Master, and, Sir (said he) I am certainely blinde, or just now I have discovered the vessell of Alcidiana. Polexander lost no time in asking him questi­ons, but comming out of his Cabin, got on the upper deck, and by that propriety which seemes to be fastened to the eyes of all lovers, cast his sight presently on the vessell of Al­cidiana. He knew her, and seeing her take a course contrary to his: tack about, tack about (cryd he to his Pilots) and at this time let every one testifie how much he affects me. His command, and the execution of it, was one same thing. But the winde that complyed not so well with him as they, changed not, but was the cause why his great ship made but slow way after that belonging to Alcidiana. He was all the rest of the day in wrestling against a North-East winde, and raging for being so neere his happinesse and not obtaining it. The night changed the winde, and gave it him so favourable, that he doubted not the taking of Linceus, though the darkenesse tooke from him the sight of his vessell. He might easily have overcome this difficulty, if a greater and more pow­erfull had not yet once more envyed his good fortune, in the very instant when he thought himselfe most assured. For at breake of day, instead of the vessell of Alcidiana, he saw a great fleet of Turkish Gallies, and Affrican ships: After he had mused a while, he called his brother, and concealing his resolution from him, we must said he seperate, and by divers courses try to make our way through so many enemies. Iphidamantus appro­ved of his councell, because his friends and himselfe had mutually bound themselves not to leave one another till they were in a place of safety. Getting then aboard his owne ship, he found all those there in an equall astonishment. His presence heartened them, and the speech he used to them wrought upon their wavering minds the same advantage he got by his first Oration. Hereupon they armed themselves, and despising danger, in confidence of the valiant Iphidamantus, resolved themselves to what sad disaster soever fortune should prepare for them. The Mariners perceiving that the vessell of Polexander plyde to the South-west, took a contrary way, and taking downe the Christian colours which they carryed, put the halfe Moone in the place, to try if in this occasion a little cunning might not be more advantagious then power. The successe of their enterprise [Page 24] was conformable to their conceived hope. They were taken for Turkes, and, as such, were neither fought withall nor staied, but without any hinderance sailed through the fleet. When they were in the Van, they saw another Army composed of many great Gallions, and of all kind of vessells aswell with oares as sailes, over which waved the Standdards of Castile and Portugall.

Iphia mantus, r [...]vished with this encounter, tis now said he to his companions that we have no more cause of feare. See the accomplishment of our ordinary prophesies, and the Army which we saw, though far off from the place where we were prisoners, hath without doubt broaken our chaines and finished our slavery. Yet let us not be re­proched to have seene the enemy so neere without fighting; shew them that we know how to make a retreate, but not how to fly. Whilst he spake thus, his ship got far­ther off the vanguard of the Turkes, and to tell them that he was none, set up the Crosse upon his vessell, and with his owne hands, in sight of the enemy threw the halfe moone overboord, and commanded to salute them with all his Artillery. The Turkes no sooner knew the trick that had deceived them, but they gave them from their fleet above two hundred Canon shot. Foure Galliots by the command of the Generall were sent out to seise on that Christian Vessell, but all the industry of the Turkes was but to their owne confusion; for Iphidamantus retired fighting behind the vanguard of the Christian fleet. Presently as it he had attended but that signall, they put themselves in Batalia. The Turke made his cressant without stirring from the place he had chosen, and both the one and the other receiving command to fall on, began the fight in a marvelous good order. The wind (as messenger of that absolute power, which almost continually causeth the best successe to follow the best causes) forsooke tha Turkes, and to have part in the victo­ry, came on the Christian side. This favourable change, was received as a certaine pre­sage of that daies good fortune, and encouraged the Souldiers to witnesse by their shouts, the impatiency they were in till they were at hand stroakes with their enemies. The great Gallions of Portugall which were in the front of the Christian Armie as so many forts, (whence they ruined the Turkes) began by the noise and smoake of their double Canon, to make the sea open even to the depths, and obscure the aire with enflamed clouds. The enemies grew therewith terrified, lost their order and were flaine unrevenged. At last all mingled, Gallies set on Gallies, Ships boorded Ships, in briefe all vessells little and great, of oares, and sailes, fought either in grosse, or seperated. It was there that the inconstancy of the chances of Warre appeared. Those who were lately Conquerors are now (in their turne) overcome, and such a one who had been made a slave, recovers his liberty by the servitude of those who had put him in fetters. By lit­tle and little this forest of Masts grew lightsome, the noise lessened, by the death of some, and the wearisomnesse of others, and both the fleets seemed to be but the shadowe of what it was at the beginning of the battell. The Christians were the Victors; and though the Turkes by their obstinacy in fighting, made knowne they knew not what twas to fly, yet at last they were constrained, and without their obduratenesse had confessed, that the power of earth is weake to resist the hands of heaven. The Sun was no sooner set, then the victorious Army content to see their powerfull enemies not dare to appeare before them, would not drive to despaire those they had put to flight, you could see no more of them, then some few scattred vessells from the body of the Army, yet in fight. Amongst others, Iphidamantus ship which had a good share in the glory of this day, was grapsed with a Turke, the combate equally entertained on both sides, left none to doubt of the valour of those that were assaied or those that defended. The Turkes were more in number then the Christians, yet had they been put to the worst without the incredible valour of their Captaine, who alone, made all the assaults of his enemies vaine and boot­lesse. The valiant Iphidamantus desiring to shew by some remarkable blowe, that there was no pride so high, which he could not abate, nor strength which he could not master, threw himselfe among the armes of the valiant Turke, and let drive at him so surious a blow with his sword, that he sent into the sea all that the other had on his head. The Turkes amazed at the fearfull blow their Captaine had received, resolved, not to stand wilfull in a combate which could but adde a particular shame to the generall. This de­liberation being as soone executed as taken, the two ships sundred; but Iphidamantus [Page 25] that would not overcome by halfes, followed the Turkes and boorded them againe. The combate began a fresh, more bitter then before; and the Turkish Captaine, flying after vengeance with an heroike fury; made Iphidamantus see that there is no valour like that which is seconded with choler. After a hundred times trying to finish this duell by some extraordinary blow, Iphidamantus, threw himselfe into the Turkish vessell and made his enemy recoile, but the Moore with a passe on Iphidamantus, stroake him with his Cimiter on the Caske with such a force that he made him fall at his feet. His com­panions thought him dead, and the affright making them forget their honour and their faith, they left him to the mercy of the Turkes, and saved themselves by the favour of the night. Bajazet (for so was this victorious Turke called) quickly caused Iphidaman­tus to be taken up by six of his souldiers and carried into his Cabin. Whilst he tooke paines for the ease and solaging of his prisoner, and seemed to have forgotten the gene­rall routing of the Mahometan Army, a tempest more carefull of his safety then himselfe, tooke him from among the Christians (who pursued their victory) and brought him to one of the Azorez, that he might there recollect those that remaine of his fleet. This place had been appointed before the battle for the Rendezvous of the Pirates of which he was the chiefe. The next day after his arrivall five or six ships came in, the next day eight or ten, and in this sort in lesse then six daies he had made a new Army. Streight he resolved to goe see, whether the Christians had not enterprised somewhat on the place of his usuall retreat. He gave them directions for the order they should keepe, in case they should be forced to fight by the way, and so weigh anchor from the Azorez and came out in the head of his fleet. Though his charge and the humour of those he com­manded, was capable to take up an entire man, yet this generous Pirate reserved the better part of his time to give it to Iphidamantus. He forgot nothing of whatsoever he judged fit for the healing of his wounds, or for the satisfaction of his minde, and told him oftentimes that so brave a man as he never appeared more glorious then when he was constrained to suffer under a misfortune. That the chance of Warre being never in our power, we are to take it as it falls. That tis true victory was often accompanied with many advantages, but they followed many times without any merit; that he had heard spoken of many Captaines, whose death or captivity had given more cause of en­vy then of glory, to those who had either killed or made them attend their triumphall Chariots. Iphidamantus that made profession of true generousnesse was ravished with that in Bajazet, and giving himsel [...]e over to the charmes of his wit aswell as to the strength of his reason, knew not sometim whether it had been advan [...]agious for him, not to have lost his liberty. He admired the good aspect of this Pirate, the sweetnesse of his wit and converse, his manners directly opposite to others of his condition, and above all his admirable complaica [...]cy, by which he seemed to make himselfe a slave to them who where already his. So many virtues met he, in a person who in his opini­on was destitute of all, that at first they made him, his admirer, and soone after so passio­nate a friend, that for it he would have wronged himselfe, and called backe his affection as if he had committed an injustice in giving it to Bajazet. In the meane while this fa­mous Pirate, had time so favourable that the fifth day he d [...]ried the great Rocks which are as so many Bastions and Rampards for the defence of his Island. The next day he came to the entry of his h [...]ven, and was not there admitted, till he which had the com­mand of it, had been to know him. I phidamantus was astonished to see what ceremo­nies Bajazet himselfe was faine to observe ere he set foote on shoare, but he wondred more and was ravished when he drew neere to a Fortresse which was in the midst of the Island. It was a place which nature and arte had equally fortified. On the Easte side there was a Rock which extended it selfe to the sea by precipices and disgorgements of cleare waters. Towards the South the Rocke was extreamely high, and had been cut with the chi [...]l: It was full of little lodgin [...]s, where the Pirates Wives dwelt and kept their Children and their goods. At the place where these two Rocks abu [...]ed almost to­gether, they left an overture of thir [...]y or fo [...]y [...]home. Over this passage there was a great A [...]ch which some Arabians had built, and to make themselves immortall by the las­ting of so marvellous a worke, had eng [...]n on black marble, their names and Country. This Arch had fifteen fathome o [...] largenesse on thirty of long, and was divided in three. [Page 26] The first part was full of little Chambers so industriously built that they seemed to be cut out of the Rock it selfe. From thence you entred into a Fortresse built with stones of that hugenesse, that the imagination of Iphidamantus could not conceive any thing so strong in all the Mechanicall Engines that was not far too weake to remove or raise them. Foure Towers and foure piles of lodgings covered like tarrasses compassed one Court of fifteen fathome in square. In the midst there was a Fountaine which cast out water through the throate of a Lion of brasse which in noise and casting his head to­wards Heaven made the mettle it selfe terrible. When you had gone through this Ca­stle, you entred into a Garden, where, on the South side was to be seen a little Wood of Cedars, Palmes and Cipresse, and towards the west, another, of Orenge trees made into a Laborinth. The hedges of all the alleis were of Jessemines, Citrons, and an infinit num­ber of those sweet trees which give the hotter Countries all the advantage they have over our climate. At the top almost of the Rock which was towards the East, you might see a fall of water of six foot broade, which as a peece of ice fastned on the han­ging of the Mountaine was received in a great and vast bason. All the water fell into one pipe, and after it had been somewhile underground, was seen againe in this hanging Garden, and spouting out of the trunck of an Elephant which a Rhinoceros had o­verthrowne, carried his force so high that you lost fight of it before it was mounted to his full height. This place was inaccessible on all sides, but to get to it, there was cut in the Rock towards the West a staire which by a hundred steps came to joyne with one of the corners of the Arch. Within this proude Building the Generalls of those Pirates had alwaies lodged since they became Masters of it, and as such, did Bajazet rest there as often as any tempest or other important consideration kept him in the Island. Under this great Arch there were raised two Platformes, on which twenty field peeces served for a warning to strangers that this place was forbidden them. On the flancke of these Cavaliers, ran out to great Bastions, which were as the two Arcenalls where were kept all the cast peeces and double Canons which could not serve them a shipboord. On this side was seen an artificiall Lake, into which they had on floates cast two pecces to com­mand the plaine and open Country about it, and by this Lake only was there an entrance into that great enclosure, after the clensing of all the Artillery of these six different de­fences. When Bajazet was within Canon shot, he staied his fleet, and according to the Maximes of his government, sent to aske permission from the Governour of the place to come in. Iphidamantus who till then had rested as ravished in the consideration of the outside of this Fortresse, was extreamely surprised to heare Bajazet speake thus. The ge­nerous Rover smiling to see his prisoner so admiring: Know said he, that he who com­mands these Pirates as I have done this yeare, is the sole man who hath power to put a Governour in that Fort, and who may the first yeare either change him or strangle him without giving an account for it. Assoone as this particular Governour is in full posses­sion of the place, and that the Generall hath put the armes and command in his hands, he never useth them with so much rigour against any as against his person who gave him the authority. And indeed by this Maxime only he preserves himselfe, for were he sus­pected to have but the least intelligence with the Generall, an ordinary death were not the greatest punishment he should stand in feare of. But when he hath past his yeare of probation, and can give contentment to the different humours of his companions; then they give him the title of Generall of the Land, that is, he hath an authority within the Fort as absolute, as mine is in the rest of the Island over the Pirates and vessells. Barbe­roussa, so is he called that now commands in this place, and hath been neere forty yeares, the fortunatest Pirate of the sea, yet hath he but executed the commands of his Cap­taines, and now is come to the place of Generall by Land, more by the care I tooke not to solicite him to doe ill, then by the affection he had towards his owne party. Leave them to wonder at the permission which I aske, and know that I have no more power in the Fort but what he gives me, who is under charge. And since I have now a minde to goe in, I must doe so, that he must first thinke it fitting. What I now have told you is but the least part of the pollicy of these Pirates. They have their Lawes and their Maxi­mes as well as the Estates the best governed, and I have noted that whereas, in those, one may often see many virtues degenerate into vices, here have I seen many vices very [Page 27] much approaching unto vertues. I confesse that honour and honesty are enemies with whom our Pirates are seldome at truce or peace. I know that conscience is the first thing they put off, who would be Citizens of this Common-wealth, and that justice cannot be received among such persons as have no other enriching then by the losse of others, and make it their boasting to possesse nothing that was lawfully gotten. In a word, tis true, that here all morall virtues are condemned; but know, that what in a well governed State is effected by the respect borne to good and holsome Lawes, here, every one is kept within the bounds of his duty by the absolute power of him who is the Mas­ter. Every mans particular interest, here is insteed of justice, and though there be no recompence for those that live well; yet is there so generall a feare of punishment ap­pointed for the least faults, that it is the bindrance why every day some murther is not committed, or some treason contrived. You shall by and by see at the entry of the For­tresse a great many heads not only of meane Souldiers, but of such as have been in the place that now I am; of whom the justice, or to say more properly the mistrust of these Pirates hath made most bloudy and dreadfull examples.

Whilst Bajazet thus entertained his prisoner, those whom he had sent to Barbaroussa returned with the leave they went for. Assoone as he had it, he went on, and comming to the Lake with Iphidamantus, went into a boate which came thither to waft them. Iphidamantus was staid by Barbaroussa at his landing, and could not be received into the Fortresse till Bajazet had bound himselfe on his life to be answerable for him. When Iphidamantus was in the midst of the place, he marked the inside, and admired the in­credible strength that Art had joyned to Nature. Bajazet undertaking him, You have good cause, said he, to view well this place, for tis such a one, as you may well call it the Master-peece of all the Invention and power of man. These channels full of water which turning one within another, represent a sleeping Serpent, are great proofesof the industry and paynes of those that first contrived them. The Lake by which wee came hither, is onely filled with the water which by little and little comes from those chan­nels: and what I finde most strange in this worke, is, that by secret conduits and pipes hidden under ground, these Pirates can let flow all these waters over what part soever of the Island they please, and when any necessity requires it. I will shew you when you please the place, where by this devise all the campe of the King of Morocco was drow­ned, when that Prince thought to have brought the Inhabitants of this Island to the ut­most extremity. Bajazet ending his discourse to Iphidamantus, and receiving the Ro­vers which came to tender their duties to him, ascended to his stately Palace. He made an honour to it himselfe, and lead his faire Prisoner to the lodgings he had provided for him. How will my Readers neglect those famous cabinets and proud chambers, where the curiosity and luxury of our Age, have so high and costfully laid open their charmes, after they have seene the description which I am obliged to make of Iphidamantus lodgings. This Prince first came into a chamber hung with tapistry of a cloth of silver, on a ground of gold, the best wrought, and richest that ever the Portugals have brought from Persia or China, the rest of the furniture was of the same stuffe; on this tapistry there were divers Armes of gold and christall, and betweene them pictures, some in tablets of chrystall of the rock with gold, others of rubies of Emeraulds: and glasses, whose borders covered with Diamonds, tooke away the light and lustre of their cleere­nesse, and were at once both the pleasure and the paine of the eye that beheld them. The roofe and the floore of this chamber had their different beauties; but let the ingenuous Reader supply what I cannot expresse, and imagine what Iphidamantus had over his, when his feet trod on that which Kings weare on their heads. There was no bed in this chamber. Bajazet through this brought him into another, which having nothing of the other, was more magnificent and delightfull. The floore and the wals were covered with a worke-made in compartments of Ebony and Ivory heightned with streakes of gold and silver, and enriched with Moresk-worke, and devices, cut on curious stones. Above the wainescot there were a great number of vessels of Jasper, Chrystall, Agate, Amber and Emeraulds, and of perfume boxes of gold, which made the pleasures of smel­ling, envy those of the sight. From the foote of these vessels sprung a vine of gold, which ran over a frame of silver, the leaves were of gold, enammelled with greene, and the [Page 28] bunches (to represent a white grape) were composed of pearels of different greatnesse, and severall beauty. The leaves of the windowes were of the wood of Cedar and Roses, and the panes were of Chrystall. The seeling was of a hollow mirror, made of many Venice glasses, so industriously joyned together, that by a miracle in perspective, you would have thought your selfe to be under a vault of an extreame highnesse. On one side of the chamber there was a bedsted of silver, with Persian coverings, the Cushions were of blew velvet, embroydered with pearles, the Tables and chaires all alike, and the foote-clothes sutable to the bed and seates. Bajazet left Iphidamantus with his Chyrur­geons, and eight or ten Moorish slaves, who had all carquenets of silver about their necks and legs; but before he left him, he fell into this false Civility, which every Gentle­man condemnes, and every well-bred man practiseth: He desired his pardon for the in­commodity he was to receive by so ill a lodging. Iphidamantus made no reply to his Compliment, but made him perceive his admiration of the others prodigious riches. Two or three howres after, Bajazet came to him againe, and after some discourse Iphida­mantus besought him to relate by what conquest he had got together so great treasures, in comparison of which those of the greatest Kings were not considerable. You see by that (answered Bajazet) smiling, that the life of a Pirate is not altogether unworthy an honest man, since it doth equalize him with Kings. But you wonder at small things. When you have seene the publique magazins, and knowne the riches of particulars, you will be enforced to beleeve, that if we had as much ambition as treasure, wee were ca­pable to conquer the whole world. Another time I will tell you, how we came by this wealth. For the present, think on your rest, and the end of your cure. This discourse was seconded by many others, and those ended, Bajazet tooke his leave of Iphidamantus and withdrew himselfe. The two or three first dayes, the Pirates much troubled with their ill fortune, abode in a tranquillity not usuall to them. But assoone as the hopes of that which might after betide them, had made them forget the past disaster, they drowned their losses in wine; and to make up their late abstinence, redoubled their feasts and de­bauches. Bajazet, who was naturally an enemy to these riots, that he might not be a spectator, was almost continually with Iphidamantus. One day as they were talking of the adventures of Polexander, a Pirate called Achaim, came and presented to him, a man, who for his face and habit was taken for a Spaniard. After Bajazet had seen him, A­chaim intimated, that when the tempest had seperated the rest of his fleet and driven them as far as the Isle of Capevert, he met with this Spaniard. He will tell you, who he is (said the Pirate) and of the new world which a certaine Genuois hath lately discovered for the Kings of Spain. Bajazet very humanely entertained this Spaniard, and promising to send him to his Country, entreated from him the particalars of his voiage. The Spa­niard finding his fortune beyond his hopes, thus satisfied Bajazets cu [...]iosity: I am said he of Arragon, and am called Michael Diaz. You have perhaps heard that the bold Christo­pher Columbus, promising our Kings to discover for them a new world stored with gold and pretious stones, hazarded himselfe, to make a way through the Ocean and after a voyage of threescore daies cast anchor at the Isle of Guana [...]an. From thence sailing further from the North, he entred into one of the Ports of the Isle of Cuba, and lastly staied in that of Hayty. He there tooke possession of that new world for the Kings, Ferdinand, and Isabella. After he had made a league with the Cacique of the Island, and freighted his ship with gold, pearles, men, and other rarities, he returned into Spaine. I will not relate the honours he received from our Princes, and with what desires he en­flamed the Spaniards to attend him in the conquering this unknowne Country. I was one of them that accompanied him in his second voyage, and after an abode of eight y [...]ares in the Land of gold and pearles and being enriched beyond my hopes, and now by the [...]ury of the winds and hatred of fortune brought to an eternall slavery or shame­full beggery. God grant those which follow me have better successe, and that so much gold which they have gathered be not all at once swallowed up by the seas. Bajazet [...]ceiving by the Spaniards discourse, that there came a fleet from the new world, as­ked him whether his companions had not been shipwracked with himselfe? No said he, I pa [...]d thence before them to carry the n [...]wes into Spaine of their comming. Yet I feare that the tempest hath sunck them. For Don Francis Bovadilla who is Generall of [Page 29] the fleet, would not be advised either by Roldan Ximenez or Antonio de Torrez Cap­taines of the men of warre, but is put to sea. Bajazet being satisfied in that he desired to know, dismissed the Spaniard, and gave Achaim charge to be very carefull of him. A­chaim tooke the Spaniard with him and spread through all the Island the newes his prisoner had brought: The Officers, aswell Mariners as Souldiers were so overjoyed with it, as if the extreame desire (they expressed) of possessing those new treasures, had been an infallible assurance of their getting them. Other Pirates giving themselves the liberty of things unworthy the mentioning, ran up and downe the Isle exciting one ano­ther to the conquest of these riches; and fancied to themselves every Spanish vessell to be a Mountaine of gold, their wise and valorous Generall had more judicious thoughts, for not being able by the relation of the Arragon, to compute, how many faile there were of the Spanish fleet, he would therefore send to discover their number that he might so fight with them, without running the hazard of being beaten: he called for one of his most expect and judicious Captaines, and giving him instructions in those things he intrusted to his prosecution, commanded him to goe aboord and set saile, without suddaine retur­ning, till he brought him certaine newes of the Spanish fleet. Trust (said he) none but your owne eyes. Number if you possibly can all the ships in their fleet, and by your spee­dy returne; doe so that we may have time enough to arme so many vessels as we shall need to fight with them. The Captaine failed not instantly to prepare for the execution of his Generalis commands. He first sought out Achaim, to be informed of the course he was to steere, and chusing those he would make use of in his voyage went out of the haven by the favour of a little gale from the Land. Bajazet the very next day assembled the principall Officers of his Estate, and confirming to them the newes Achaim had brought; I doe not thinke said he that we need deliberate long on this affaire. Our Lawes, our Customes, and the examples of all Ages taking from us the liberty of deliberation, reduce us to a necessity of fighting. Nor is it, to know what your thoughts are, that I have caused this meeting, but to agree of the meanes whereby we may atchieve, what we are bound to execute. Thalemut, a contemnor of whatsoever was divine, and the I­mage of all brutishnesse, (interrupting Bajazet) Providence (said he) and Councell are as unnecessary to great executions, as incense and sacrifices. Only chance makes the successe happy or unfortunate. That, gives victories, and causeth overthrowes; and if we must be once more beaten, tis not all the wisdome in the world that can prevent or warrant us from it. Raiz spake, and advised, that an enemie, to be fought withall is not to be fleighted, but at such an enterprise, to take with you, all that was requisite, both of wisdome and courage, was not to leave to chance all the glory of what should happen, the rest were of his opinion; and after their custome, applauding the valour and con­duction of their Generall, retired, to provide what was fitting, to revenge themselves of the aff [...]ont they had received from the Spaniards in their last encounter. Bajazet see­ing himselfe at leasure for the rest of the day, visited Iphidamantus, and acquainted him what was resolved on. They were together till the night was far spent, anddeaving mat­ters of warre for more pleasing discourse, fell in talke of their amorous adventures. Ba­jazet sighing at their remembrance, witnessed how unfortunate he was, and casting his eyes on Iphidamantus, as if he had been the cause of his passion; why is it not permitted me (said he) to lay open to you the woundes, which a too tyrannicall respect, and more violent considerations have hitherto kept hidden from the knowledge of men? Bajazet, could open himselfe no further, for in the same instant he entred whom he had sent to discry the Spanish fleet. He told him that he had not been far to fullfill his Commission, and that he had met with the Spaniards far on this side the Islands of Capevert, and (said he) if now you have a mind to them, there is no more time to be lost. They have the winde good, and their vessells are not so sluggish but that they make good way. For their strength tis not to be thought on, they are but thirty or five and thirty saile, and come on with so much security by a course which they thinke unknowne to all else, that they will trouble us more to find them, then to vanquish them. Bajazet, hearing this newes, would presen [...]ly have embarqued, if the respect he bore to Iphidamantus had not staid him. He could not leave the Prince, and yet he would not engage him in the voyage, standing sometime without knowing on what to resolve, at last he turned towards his [Page 30] prisoner, and observing him as he had been his King; be pleased (said he) that I bestow some daies on the necessary occasions of my charge, and that I submit my selfe to a Law, which at the same time that it makes me commit an offence contrary to that respect I owe you, makes me withall doe pennance for it. Yes Iphidamantus, I am forced to leave you, and to content the insatiable avarice of a barbarous multitude, must forsake that su­preame happinesse, which Fortune had (as it were) miraculously sent me. No, no, re­plied Iphidamantus, the mishap you feare shall not betide you. I will follow you where­soever you goe, if it be permitted me during my imprisonment to dispose of my selfe. But my deare Bajazet let not the consideration of my captivity hinder me from part of your glory; and let not your Rovers feare that during the fight I might cast my selfe among the Spaniards and so deprive them of my ransome. I am contented to be bound in the vessell I embarque in, and that I only have so much liberty as will serve me for fighting. Ah generous Iphidamantus, (said Bajazet) why will you out of an alacrity hazard a life that should be to you so estimable? and why will you follow the Fortune of one so un­happy, that seeing the Heavens too weake or too inexorable for him, hath for his con­servation been constrained to have recourse to the power of Hell? Iphidamantus stop­ping him at these words: I cannot dive (said he) into those reasons which oblige you to actuate what you doe, but contemplating Bajazet in himselfe and not in his Fortune, I should esteeme my selfe unworthy to live, should I be so cowardly to forsake you in your danger. I therefore intreat you not to refuse me the liberty I desire, and since the time presseth you, let us spend it better then in unprofitable contestations. You are of a race said Bajazet, to whom it is naturall to overcome, and an indiscreet resistance should not oppose it selfe to your glorious destinies. But let not your generousnesse put you to any trouble, we have more time for it then we need, goe to your bed, and give me leave to walke whether the noise of my companions calls me. Thus left he his faire prisoner and followed by thirty or forty of his black slaves, rid through all the quarters of the Pirates. He made those to march that were yet behinde, and staied on the Key of the Haven till he had seen-them all embarqued.

The History of Zelmatida, heire to the Empire of the Incas, and of the Princesse Isatida.

IF the great Zelmatida were not considerable but by the splendor of his birth, by the extent of the Empire of his ancestors, and by the abundance of gold, and precious stones, which are in their command; I would tell you of the Incas originall, the esta­blishing of their authority by the great Mango Capa, sonne of the Sun, the manner of their conquests, the sanctity of their lawes, the riches of their Temples, the pompe of their sacrifices, and the incredible magnificence of their Court; but all these things which might seem marvellous to you, because they should be new, are so low and con­temptible in comparison of the adventures of my Lord the Inca, that I should be an ene­my to his fame, should I give them a place in my relation. Let us then put off to another time, the knowledge of our manners and treasure, and understand, that Zelmatida is son of the great Ioca Guina Capa, surnamed the Victorious, who not content with an Empire of fifteen hundred leagues long, fights daily, to give it no other limits then the bounds of the world. This Monarch having made a way through the mountains, which we believed inaccessible, made war with a barbarous people, who by the losse of an unhappy and bru [...]sh liberty, found the use of reason, the knowledge of the gods, and the felicity of civill society. Beyond these people raignes a nation as remarkable for their beauty, as redoubted for their valour: They are warlike women, which now enduring the servi­tude of men, and the infamy of the businesse of their sex, are alwayes armed, and have made slaves of those that would have been their masters. Guina Capa, to try whether [Page 37] they were invincible or no, entred their territories; and after two great battels, finding them worthy his friendship, concluded a peace with them, on condition that the Queen should give him one of her daughters. This fair and valiant Princesse came to visit her conqueror, but he had scarce seen the least part of her charmes, when he fell pas­sionately in love with her; they were married in the presence of the two armies, and he willed that there should be nothing but of the warriour at the feast of this alliance. Some few dayes after the marriage, the famous Guina Capa repassed the mountains, and retired to refresh himself in the stately city of Cusco. Whilest he tasted these incompa­rable sweets, by the possession of the fair Amazon, he forgot not to think of his warlike affaires: Six hundred leagues from Cusco, towards the North, there is a great countrey, watered with a river, called Ancasmayu, that is, the blew River: the Inhabitants of that countrey, were rather cruell then valiant, they eat one another; and though from all time they had lived under the authority of a King, yet were they so wilde, and so much enemies to humane society, that they lived in the woods, and among the rocks, in cavernes, with Tygers, Lions, and Serpents, of which they made them gods. The Inca Tupac Yupanquy, father of Guina Capa, was the first that undertook their conquest, of purpose to draw them from their bruitishnesse, but after a war of many yeers, he found that he did but little advance his intention, and unprofitably wasted him time and forces. He therefore returned to Cusco, and sent thence Guina Capa, to try if the valour of that young Prince would not change the fate of his arms, and those of a nation as warlike as savage. Guina Capa began the war with so much courage and fortune, that after many battels, and an infinite number of skirmishes and sieges, he compelled the King of Quito to forsake the field. That Prince seeing himself out of all hope of succour, and his coun­trey almost conquered, shut himselfe up in that city, which gives name to the whole Kingdome; and after he had killed with his own hands one of his wives whom he lo­ved most dearly, he expired on her dead body, in bewailing the murther he was con­strained to perpetrate. The victorious Inca came into Quito with a triumphant traine, and finding this city worthy to be one of the seats of his Empire, beautified it with Temples, Palaces, Aqueducts, fountains and chanels; he had been above a yeer in this new Kingdome, when he was called back by the Inca, Yupanquy; he left some troopes in Quito, commanded a flying camp to the side of the mountains, and forgot nothing which he thought requisite and capable to keep those Barbarians in their obedience: but he was scarce gone out of their territories, when they revolted, and cut the throats of all his officers and souldiers. The Prince stirred by so wicked an action, returnes to Quito with new forces, and cut in pieces the most part of the rebels. The end of this sedition was the beginning of another; every yeer produced one: for this people, im­patient of the yoke, never failed to take up arms as soon as Guina Capa was out of the countrey. The Prince at last grew weary of so many insurrections, and resolved to war in such sort, that the Savages should be forced to petition for peace. To this end he commanded his armies to march as soon as he was returned from the Amazons country: and after he had sometime tasted the sweets of his marriage, departed from Cusco with those invincible forces which were particularly appointed for the guard of the Incas. The fair Amazon followed the King her husband, and would needs with him partake the incommodities and dangers of the war, as she had done the delights of peace. After a journey of some moneths, the Inca came to the frontiers of Quito, and suspending his ordinary goodnesse, strooke the Barbarians with terror, by the severity of his punish­ment, whosoever was taken with his armes in his hand, was either hung on the trees, or cast into the rivers. But to kill one part, and to defeat the other, was not to vanquish all; those people more savage and voyd of reason then their gods, got together again as soon as they were routed; and as if they had been strengthened by their overthrows, they returned to the charge with more fury when they saw themselves brought to a few, then when they were a good army. At last both parts growne weary of fighting, they made a kinde of truce; the Queen at that time, found her self great with childe, and du­ring that time, so contented the King, that during that time he forgot all the ill successe of his war. The Incas Amautas, which are the Princes appointed for the service of the gods, assured him that he should have a son, and that the birth of that sonne, though accom­panied [Page 38] with many tragicall accidents, should be the entire conquest of Quito, and of many advantages, illustrious and behoofefull for the empire of the Incas. Guina Capa no­thing doubting of these predictions, left the Queen in the stately Palace of Quito, with four thousand men for her guard, and returned against the rebels with a hundred thousand fighting men: He pursued them even to their cavernes, and the precipices of their rocks, and after a slaughter of two thirds of them, enforced the rest to lay down their arms, and be subject to his lawer. When he had reduced these Savages to peace and obedience, he commanded a cessation of all hostility; and to win them more easily deprives them not of any of their ancient liberties, save of their men-eating, and sacrificing them to Idols; by little and little he drew them from the woods, and made them build houses: He gave them Legislators to govern, and Priests to instruct them in the worship of the true Gods: And desiring to make their servitude not irksome, told them, that the Prince whom he intended should command them, was not a stranger, but a Prince borne amongst them, and might call himself their countreyman. He meant, the childe the Queen went withall, and to keep his word with them, would that the Queen should lie in at Quito. The Savages, rather more cunning by their misfortunes, then won and made more pliable by the Inca's milde treating, gave him thanks for his favours, but in a little time after, they made known by their horrible and bloody actions, that they were the same men they had been. The Queen daily expected her houre of delivery, when these inhumane villains made themselves masters of Quito. They streight ran to the Pa­lace, slew the guards, and meeting with Guina Capa ran him thorow divers times, and left him for dead in his chamber. They had no more respect either for the sex or beauty of the Queen, then for the Majesty of the King: but pulling her out of her bed, they drew her unworthily and bruitishly by the haire out of the city, and exposed her to the rage of two Tigers, which (accustomed to such sacrifices) followed those Barba­rians, and were adored as their tutelary gods. Those beasts which better deserved the name of gods, then those barbarous villains did of men, stopped by a power truly divine, began to crouch and fawn on the Queen, and having nothing of their first nature shewed either a feare of, or a respect to that body which for a prey was thrown to them. Those signes of humanity (it I dare say so) were not alone the cause of those bruites asto­nishment; for they kept themselves as guards about the Queen, and tore in pieces who­soever durst come neer her. This while, the Princesse who had but life sufficient to bring her childe into the world, died as soon as she was delivered; the Tigers took it, and licked the Infant, and by their pitifull howlings seemed to say that they were much af­flicted for not being able to succour it: In the same instant appeared a great troop of men armed with great targets, bows and arrows; the Tigers were no way afraid at their sight, but letting them come so neer, till they had discovered the Queens body, they withdrew, and ran out of sight among the rocks. Those which were in the front of that troop, having noted the action of the Tigers, began to cry out, that their great Prophet was to be believed, and ran to take up the body of the Queen; they laid her on their targets, took up the little Inca, and gave him to some women that were in the midst of their troop. As soon as the childe was dressed, those unknown men turned their backs to Quito, and witnessing by their shouts, the excesse of their contentment, marched al­wa [...]s in batalia to the foot of the mountains which divide the kingdome of Quito from that of the King Quasmez. Before I go further, be pleased that I let you know the In­fant of the generous and deplorable Amazon; but what need is there, that I should tell you since the illustrious and unfortunate life of my Lord the Inca, may make you cleerly see, that no other then he could have so tragicall and fair a birth? It was Zelmatida, who before he was borne, gave both love and terror to the most furious animalls, and was the object of Prophets, the desire of Kings, and the hope of nations. But I perceive not that I wander, and leave the charitable troope which carryed away my young Prince. Suff [...]r me to follow them, and according as things happened, discover to you those my­steries which I see you would have me to let you understand. Those who so opportune­ly came to save my Lord the Inca, were sent thither by the great Quasmez, who raigns over the one and the other sea, and whose Empire extends it self from the territories of Mexico to those of the Inca's. As soon as those men were on the mountaines, they chose [Page 39] twelve of the swiftest among them, and sent them to their King with the newes of their returning. Goe, (said the Captaine of the Troupe aloud) and relate to our Prince what you have seen, assure him that his praiers are heard, and that we have found the body of the dead Princesse and the newborne Child in the pawes of mercifull Tigers. These posts departed and performed their Commission with an extraordinary diligence. The others, the while marching by little Journeis for feare of endangering the health of my Lord Inca, got through the Mountaines and entred into the Country of one of the Ca ci­ques tributary to Quasmez: When they had made a daies Journey or two in that King­dome, they began to publish, that the Child which they conducted, was he by whom (as their g [...]eat Prophet Tisnatidez made them hope) they should recover the treasure they had lost. This newes was no sooner knowne among the people, but all strove who should doe most honour to Zelmatida. In all places where he passed, the Inhabitants brought him presents, and bowing their faces to the ground, seemed to expect their pro­tection from a little Infant that was not able to defend it selfe, nor to oppose the least injuries that any would enterprise against him. Those which with so much respect car­ried him, after many daies journey in this fashion, at last arrived at the Court of Quas­mez. Assoone as he heard of their arrivall, you might see breake from his countenance an unusuall joy, but it is unpossible to tell you how much he expressed, when his people delivered the Inca into his hands. He looked on him, he kissed him, and embracing him as strictly as he had been his owne Son; O cause (said he) of my future rest, (though he understood him not) I hope one day to see the end of my afflictions, since the holy In­terpretor of my Gods hath promised me, that the returne of my happinesse is to be the masterpeece of your valour. The Queen his wife, who was present at all these things, would not suffer Zelmatida longer in the armes of her husband but tooke it and carried it away, and taking all the care that a good mother ought to doe of those she brought into the world, kept him neer her to his age of twelve yeares. He grew so tall and so strong at that age, that Quasmez began to have him taught all the exercises that the children of Kings are accustomed to learne. His excellent inclination had soone drawne dry all the knowledge of his Masters, and confirmed the old Prince in all the hopes he concei­ved of him. There was no game of strength, addresse or disposition wherein he carried not a way the Guirlands that Quasmez ordained for the Victor. Though this good King saw him endowed with all the quallities he had often wished him, yet lived he not with that quiet of mind which should be given him by so excellent a breeding. The more he saw the King grow, the more was his melancholy and disquiets redoubled. His shew­ed discontents when there was no cause, and without cleering to my deare Master when he requested him, what subject he had for it, he consumed himselfe in uselesse sorows, in lieu of staying the time prescribed for the accomplishing the prophecies. The King was in his fifteenth yeare, when five or six hundred Mexicans leaving the Forts they had built on the Mountaines which cut that space of Land which is between our two Seas, came far on into the Kingdome of Quasmez. Their incursion was no sooner knowne to the Inca, then he petitioned the King his Father to permit him to goe against those ancient enemies, and learne them to be contented with their usurped Territories. Quasmez made no great difficulty of it, but gave him foure thousand of his best Souldiers to accompany him in this expedition. Be pleased to imagine the content the young Prince received, to have the meanes to give them a triall of his courage, and to know by his apprentisage what he might after expect from himselfe. He departed then with the foure thousand of Quasmez men, that he might not discontent him: But when he knew the small com­pany of his enemies, his generousnesse would not suffer him to take them at advantage. He marched right to them with all his troopes, and assoone as he came to a certaine place from whence they discovered a great extention of Land, he perceived that the Mexi­cans began to entrench themselves in a little valley. He sent to them one of his follow­ers to intimate that he would not fight with them because he was the stronger; though the History of former warres had tught him that they had not made use of that modera­tion. The Prince of whom I speake (said the Souldier) will never follow your ill exam­ple, nor shall your cruelty oblige him to an action destitute of mercy. Assure your selves then, that he intends to fight with you, not to murther you. Besides he hath a better o­pinion [Page 40] of you then of his neighbours, and beleeves, you are valiant men, since you have not feared under the conduct of your King, to spread your selves so far from the ancient bounds of Mexico, and to run so many hazards to subject to his Scepter the Provinces of so many Caciques. The thought of this hath obliged him to deale nobly with you; and therefore intreates you to signifie to him what number you are, that he may send back part of his forces, and so comming to an equall combate, you may know by your defeate or victory, if with justice or no you are got to be Masters of so many Nations. The Mexicans received this defiance as a cause to increase their reputation, and their Cap­taine who was a young Prince and Cousen to Montesuma, finding therein where with­all to satisfie his vanity, sent the King word that he was ready to meet him halfe way on condition that he would stand to the tearmes of his defiance. That they were but five hundred in all, yet they would not refuse the combate if they were to encounter but with two thousand: It seemed as if fire had flowne out of the eyes of the King when he received this answer. Our of the foure thousand he had, he chose five hundred whose service he intended to make use of in that expedition, and gave them by his words and his example more courage then they had either from nature or the exercise of armes. He commanded the rest to retire, and that they should not come to the skirmish till they saw their companions either dead or prisoners. Being thus severed, Zelmatida commanded his five hundred Souldiers to march, and the Maxicans, quitting their entrenchment, came to meet the King with all the resolution that Souldiers could witnes. These two troopes did not confusedly fall on pel mel mingling themselves but fought a long time by little squadrons and assoone as the haile of arrowes was passed, every one betooke him to his dart and halfe pike. The King making his way where ever he came slew five or six Mex­icans before he came to their Captaine. When he met him, he thought of nothing but how to vanquish him, and though he found an extreame resistance, yet he taught him, that there was no proportion either betwixt their valour or strength. He hurt him with seven or eight thrust of his Javelin without receiving any wound but one on his left arme, and at the last blow overthrew him at his feet and without difficulty disarmed him. The Mexicans seeing their Captaine fall, betooke them streight to their heeles, and of some two hundred that remained, there were not twenty that put themselves in case to die like men of courage. The Souldiers of my Lord the Inca moved by his example gave the rest of the enemies their lives. They made haste yet after those that [...]ed, and over­taking them, bound them two and two together. On the word of the Commander of those prisoners, the King with his owne hands tooke off the cordes he was bound with, and perceiving him to lose much bloud, stopt it presently by the virtue of certaine words which are well knowne to all the Souldiers of our Countries. This remedy yet not ha­ving the same power to hinder weaknesse and fainting as to stanch bloud, the Mexican Prince could no longer sustaine himselfe on his feet. The King caused him to lie downe on the earth, and leaving a guard with him, went onward to rejoyce with those of his who only stood spectators of the fight. They witnessed by their shouts, and the arrowes they shot into the aire, the joy they had for this victory, and came in a good order to meet the Victor. When they came together, it was he that could first kisse his hand, and shew most his affection and wonder. The King told them in few words how the businesse had passed, and after he had praysed the valour of his enemies, commanded some of his fol­lowers to carry by turnes the Prince of Mexico. He had no sooner setled things in those partes, but he dispatched to Quasmez the swiftest of his Souldiers, to carry him newes of the good successe of his Army. Whilst this post went to Quasmez the King disposed of his troopes in such a sort that you might see something (which I know not) both of warre and triumph. He seperated them into foure batalions, made two of them to march before him and two after, and in the midst put the Mexicans, that they might be conduc­ted by those that made them prisoners. Their Captaine was carried by six Souldiers, and somewhat distant, and after him you might see Zelmatida, almost as bashfull as if he had been led in [...]umph by his enemy. He was not come halfe his way, when Quasmez who with an extra ordinary transport had received the newes o [...] [...]o [...]enerous an action, came to meet him accompanied with many Caciques. I cannot tell you the joy of that good Prince, the honors that he did to the Inca nor the Sacrifices he promised the Gods [Page 41] for so good a day. He fell on his knees, and lifting his eyes to Heaven▪ O Sun! O Starres! Gods eternall and just! I yet hope in you (said he) and acknowledge that your Prophet hath not deceived me. Forgive then my doubts, and perfect my happinesse! This prayer ended, he put himselfe on one Flancke of Zelmatida and without changing the order that the I [...]ca had commanded his Troopes, to them added his owne. He marched still with him, and would have him to make his entry so into the Towne. The people threw on them both their wishes and benedictions equally, calling then the Authors of their liberty and good fortune; The Queene met them at the Pallace gate; and not remem­bring the countermand of the King her husband, a hundred times alowd, blest the houre that our King was brought to them. He retain'd in memory these words, and thinking on them since more seriously then hee did then, began from thence to entertaine some great suspitions, and so fell after into strange disquiets. The day of the Triumph being pass'd; Zelmatida had a great care of all his prisoners, and sending to the Mexican Prince, as soone as he was well, meanes sufficient to pay his own ransome and his fol­lowers, confessed withall that it appertained to so great a courage to vanquish and o­vercome. The Inca that had gotten from Qua [...]mez free leave to dispose of his priso­ners as he pleas'd, call'd them all before him, gave them a sweete remonstrance that they ought to learne by their defeate to content themselves with the Territories of their An­cestors, to measure their ambition by their power, and not to come, so farre off, to seek for the losse of their lives, at least their liberties. After this, hee told them they might take their owne way where they pleased, without the feare that any of the subjects of Quasmez could hinder their returne home. The Mexicans knew not what to say at this excesse of noblenesse, and their Prince retayning and suspending a while his natu­rall vain-glory; Truly (said he) to the King, if the great Montezuma knew your worth he hath not a Crowne on his head that he would not partake with you, to get him such a friend. Zelmatida was not long without returning him an answere to his comple­ment. He entertayn'd that Prince as his brother, and sent him presents, which absolute­ly gain'd him, and made him resolve to love his vanquisher. Two moneths after hee left them, the King heard from him by two Mexicans, which were of the Prisoners. They presented him a ceremonious Letter which the Prince writ to him, with a many vessells of Gold, and many habiliaments worthy the delicacy and luxury of the King of Mexico. He gave the Messengers new presents to out-goe those of their Prince, and writ to him back with so much freenesse that he intirely got the love of that Mexican Prince. I should be too long to tell you the other brave imployments wherein the King hath since that time beene engaged, or to tell you subsequently all the acts he hath done; the ma­ny enemies hee hath overcome, and the admiration he hath given to many Caciques, whom he enforced againe to the yoake which they had shaken off. He was not much a­bove seventeene yeares old, when the powerfull constellation which had domination over his life, drew him from the delights and idlenesse of Peace, wherein he spent his best yeares; and presented him a famous occasion to make knowne his courage. This happened from a refusall that Sodomond Cacique of the Province of Cenusia had made to Quasmez, of the payment of a thousand emeralds. The good King which never un­dertooke warre till he used all meanes to preserve peace, sent his Ambassadors to Sodo­mond, to represent the injustice of his refusall, and the miseries he was drawing on, by the violating his Faith on an infinite number of Innocents. The Ambassadors found him at the Emerauld mynes. They mildly acquitted themselves of their Commission, and forgot nothing that might make Sodomond capable to acknowledge his weake­nesse and the strength of Quasmez. But this bruite reflecting neither on the one or the other, gave the Ambassadors an ins [...]lent answere, and testifying to them the disesteem [...] he held of the King their Master; goe tell Quasmez, said he, that his tyrany is not re­doubtable but to them that have not the heart to deliver themselves. For my selfe that am not only borne free, but a Prince as himselfe; I can no longer endure that he should use me as a slave, and terme me his Tributary. The Ambassadours growne angry at his insolence, replyed, that if he were free and a Prince he owed it to the generousnesse of Quasmez, and if he would renounce the quality of a tributary, he ought at the same time give over the title of a Prince, in as much as he possest the later but on condition that he should performe the former.

[Page 42] But (said they) those that give you these pernicious counsells, represent not to you the inconveniences that are inseperable to them. Come againe to your first thoughts, since you thinke you have pleased your selfe so well in following them, and remember, that the tribute of a thousand Emeralds being the sole meanes that the Cacique your Father could finde to preserve to himselfe his Mine, you cannot deny the same tribute, without running the hazard to lose the same Mine. Sodomond would heare them no further, but commanded his guard to take them, and bury them alive in the bottome of the Mine of Emeralds. The same day that Quasmez heard of the cruell death of his Embassadors, he had newes that many of the hundred Caciques his tributaries, wonne by the policy and promises of the King of Mexico were joyned with Sodomond, and hoped to make up an Army of a hundred thousand men. This newes much afflicted the good King, not for the feare of having so many enemies on his hands, but for the com­passion and pitty he had of the ruine or death of so many innocents which should ne­cessarily be found covered with the desolations of Warre. This charitable thought would not out of his minde, but made him ponder night and day to finde some meanes to smother this revolt in the birth. Zelmatida seeing him more melancholy then he was accustomed to be; My Lord (said he) command all us young men of your Court to take armes and to expose our lives to avenge you on the disloyalty of your enemies. I am the least of those of my age, but if you vouchsafe to trust me with the justice of your quarrell, and the good fortune of your armes, I promise to bring you Sodomond and his complices dead or alive, and by exemplary chasticements pluck for ever out of the mindes of the other Caciques the seeds of revolting. Quasmez weighing what my Lord the Inca might doe by that which he had already performed, gave consent to so just a petition, and giving him an Army of an hundred thousand men, conjured him to assay all the waies of sweetnesse and agreement before he came to a battle. You will won­der certainely at this, that in so little time Quasmez could bring a hundred thousand men into the field, and this wonder may arise from your judging of the customes of our world by that of yours. But I know so much of your manner of living to tell you that tis other­wise there. Amongst you there are none goe to the warres but gentlemen and beggers, the first to get honour, and the last to rob and ransack; the rest, which are commonly the richest, stay at home, and contribute but very little to the charge of warre, attending the successe with as much quiet as indifferency. We have more laudable and generous customes. We are all borne Souldiers, and upon the least occasion, are found ready to march. There are none left in the Townes and Villages but women and children. Old men and young, rich and poore take armes, and because they are made equall by their valour, they goe all with a like affection where their Prince and party calls them. I make no doubt but this declaration hath ceased your astonishment, but I am sure that the rest of my discouse will give you another that shall be far greater, as it shall be more just. Prepare your selves for it presently and by the miracles that I shall relate to you, judge to what a point of greatnesse Zelmatida had raised [...]imselfe, if love, jealous of his repu­tation, and fortune, enemy of his extraordinary virtues, had not chained his arme, and taken a way his desire of glory with that of his life. The Inca having mustered his Troupes, and put some order amongst so great a number of combatants, marcht directly to the Province of Cenusia. Sodomond came to meet him, and offered him battell with his owne forces, and those of all the other rebells. Zelmatida to obey Quasmez would not accept of it, but on the contrary sent new Embassadors to Sodomond to propose to him most advantagious conditions of peace. But when he saw that neither his offers nor threatnings touched the Barbarian, he resolved to fight, and let fly his bloudy co­lours. He went streight through all his Army, and accommodating his speech to the na­ture of his Soldiers, filled them with valour and indignation. Presently Sodomond whose pride had taken from him the knowledge of his strength and courage, bel [...]eved that he might fight with Zelmatida, and with this opinion came and defied him. Zelmatida was ravished with this challenge, and accepting it, made himself ready to make Sodomond repent him of his rashnesse. At the first blow [...]e gave him a wound in his right arme, and with his second, strook him to the earth. He might have killed him, had he listed, but thinking that revenge unworthy his courage, he left him to the mercy of his Souldiers, [Page 43] who tore him in peeces. The end of this combate was the beginning of the battell. Twenty rebellious Caciques had formed with their men, twenty batalions, and had disposed of them so, that they had but one front. One of these Caciques, a very experi­mented Captaine, had so ordered his Troupes that they might not be defeated but one after another, or rather to give time to a routed batalion, to fly without being pursued, and after they had new ranked themselves behinde the rest, to frame a new batalion. Macaraib, (so was this Captaine called) came in the head of the first batalion, and was the first too that, Zelmatida sacrificed to the just choler of Quasmez. His Souldiers made some resistance, but being entred into and broaken, some of them were slaine, and the rest to reunite themselves got behinde the last batalion.

The second conducted by Abrayba, the third by Terracequy Cacique of the Isle of Pearles, the fourth by Torrucia, and the fifth by Procorosa scarce stood at all before Zelmatida. He tooke these five Caciques alive, and causing them to be chained, sent them into his Campe: Tamanama lead the sixth batalion; It was a Prince in the flowre of his age, very faire and valiant, who caried on the crest of his headpeece a handfull of haire which the Princesse Coriza had given him for a token of her affection. He came up to Zelmatida with a warlike pace, and love raising his courage, he promised to himselfe to cut off the head of Zelmatida, and to present it to his Mistris. Zelmatida that was almost of the same age, was moved with his sweet countenance and manhood, and de­siring to make him his friend, resolved to save his life. He fought with him then, but in such a manner, that he gave those, who stood spectators of the combate, good cause to thinke, that he had no great desire to overcome him. Tumanama perceiving that all his power was too weake to atchieve his generous intention, and how Zelmatida would not make use of the advantage he had over him, retired five or six paces, and setting the point of his Javelin in the earth. Brave warriour (said he) to the Inca, de­prive me not of the honour that many a combate hath given me, and imprint not on the front of a Prince, who would be thy friend, the shame of being vanquished. I know that being inwrapt in the rebellion of my brothers, I should be so too in their punish­ments: But, doe for the love of the faire Coriza, that which thou wilt not for mine, and know that the remorse of violating my faith, is a greater punishment then that where­withall thy Armies threaten me. Zelmatida, taking this young Prince by the hand, I ac­cept thy friendship (said he) upon the same conditions thou presentest it me. Live then victorious, not of thy enemies, which is but a common glory, but of thy selfe which is the greatest of all victories; and since thy conscience will not suffer thee of a party whereinto some discontent hath lead thee, take that then which she proposeth thee, and give thy companions an example how they should acknowledge their faults. Tumana­mafelt himselfe so redevalbe to Zelmatida's courtesie, that turning his armes against his Allies, he joyned his batalion to the Troupes of Quasmez, and ran furiously to set on Bononiama chiefe of the seventh batalion. I should be too tedious should I relate to you the defeate of the other Caciques. You may know, that of thirteen remaining, five were flaine by Zelmatida, two by Tumama; and the rest taken prisoners. More then threescore thousand were killed, and with the losse of their lives paid for the extrava­gancies of their Masters. Quasmez lost there twelve or fifteen thousand men, but by the victory he obtained brought into the number of his slaves many Princes, which before by meanes of a small and inconsiderable tribute were absolute Lords of their estates. Of those, Zelmatida brought him twelve prisoners, with thirty thousand of their Subjects, and gave him a particular accompt of what he had done. Two daies after his arriva [...]l be­ing alone with him; My Lord (said he) the Gods present you a faire occasion to imi­tate their clemency, and to a way to attaine to that supreame dignity whereto their good deeds have raised them. You have in your prisons, Princes, whom you may retaine as slaves, or put them to death without injustice, for humane Lawes would that Malefac­tors should be punished. But if you give them their lives, and forget their faults, shall you not doe an act more glorious for your selfe, and so much the more just, the neerer it resembles that mercifull goodnesse wherewith the Gods support us, and pardon our of­fences? Beleeve me, send back these wretches to their owne homes to doe pennance for the fault they have committed against their faith as well as against your Majesty. And [Page 44] to leave them an eternall sorrow for it, free them from the servitude of tribute which they were wont to pay to your Crowne. Quasmez was so exceedingly movedwith the extreame noblenesse and wisdome of Zelmatida, that the very next day, he called before him all the Caciques, and mounted on a Theater with Zelmatida, commanded a Herauld to proclaime the deliverance of the prisoners. The Herauld after silence made, spake thus: Quasmez, Soveraigne Monarque of the Lands between the two Seas, of the Mines of Emeralds and of gold, and of the fishing for pearles, after that by the victories of his Son, he hath made slaves all the Caciques which were before but tributa­ry to him, declares, that he gives them all their liberty which justly they had lost, and discharges them and their successors from all the tributes to which their Provinces were engaged. Thinke with your selves what the joy was as well of the Princes as their people, after this Proclamation: They all fell on their knees, to signifie their resentment of this grace, and when they were risen againe, engaged themselves to pay double the tribute that Quasmez had taken from them. Eight daies together they celebrated a feast for this peace, so glorious to the Conquerors, and so profitable to the conquered; and the Caciques being all returned to their severall homes, filled their Provinces with the praises of their deliverers. Quasmez this while tormented with an unknowne griefe, languished in the midst of his triumphes, and the more cause of content he found in the person of my Lord the Inca, the more still his displeasures and disquiets increased. At last the Gods (touched with the humility and the zeale which accompanied the prayers of that religious Prince,) heard him then, when he began to leave off all hoping. One day while he was talking with Zelmatida, there came one to advertise him, that the great Prophet Tisnatidez, whom he tought so many yeares dead, was newly arrived, and desired his permission to see him: Quasmez no sooner heard this newes, then he commanded that he should be brought. The while lifting his eyes and his hands to Hea­ven; Great Gods (cried he) I confesse I have of late murmured and distrusted your pro­vidence! I have offended! but you know that never crime was more remissible then mine, since I committed it not in doubting of your all-sufficiency, but in thinking my selfe unworthy of your protection. The King was not a little troubled to see Quasmez in such extraordinary transports, without his knowing the cause, but he was not in it so long. He saw enter into the place where he was, a man of the age of fourescore yeares, white as a Swan, leane as a Skeliton, clad with the skin of a wild Beast, and girt with a great chaine of gold. This old man regarding the King, with eyes that shewed an in­ward joy, and without saying ought to him, addressed himselfe to Quasmez, and speke thus: I know great Prince how many times you have beleeved me a lyer, or to say bet­ter, how often you have not beleeved your selfe enough happy to hope for that good successe that our Gods have promised you by my mouth. But the long time that you have passed without seeing me since the losse of the innocent and unhappy Xaira, hath caused you to thinke nothing which I had not foreseen, and for which you may well be pardoned. And our Gods have not so much remarked what you spake, through the diffidence you had of your selfe, but that they tooke notice (through your frailty) of the greatnesse of your zeale, and the opinion you had of their all-powerfullnesse. For this, they promise you, this day, the accomplishment of all your desires, and they advertise you not to feare to expose this young Prince to the hazards of a most difficult enterprise. By him the prison of the infortunate Xaira shall be burst open, the hopes of your ene­mies deceived, and your Realme more flourishing then ever. At this word, turning him to the Inca, goe (said he) whether the goodnesse of the King invites you, who hath been to you in lieu of a Father. The enterprise to which you are destinated is perillous, but it is one of those that is preserved for such as have your courage and fate. When the Prophet saw that Zelmatida gazed on him with amazement; no, no, (added he) you are not the Son of Quasmez but by adoption and love; and though he hath bred you as his owne childe, yet tis another that was the Author of your life. Doe not aske me who he is, he only knowes it to whom nothing is hidden, and who taught me the time and the place where the guard of this King should finde you. Content your selfe that your birth is illustrious, and that another day leaving the name of Zelmatida which Quasmez hath given you, for another which shall not be lesse famous, you shall attaine the Throne [Page 45] of an Empire which shall be as great as the Earth, if it were not ordayn'd in Heaven, that it must soone fall into the hands of a Nation which is yet unknown to us. But be­fore this misfortune befall, you shall fill both the one and the other World with the same of your great actions, and shall restore to the virtuous Monarch that hath bred you that incomparable treasure which his enemies have as vainly as perfidiously forc'd and stoln from him.

Whilest this old Prophet spake thus, Quazmez wept at once both for hope and fea [...]e. The love he bore to his owne blood, strove with that he bore to the King; and no sooner had he put himselfe in case to thanke his gods that they had heard his prayers, but that he afflicted himselfe for their being heard. He fear'd all the perills by Sea and Land, and some times even wished he could forget the thralldome of his daughter, that he might not be constrained to expose my deare Master to such dangers that his affection imagined beyond all humane ability. At last the authority of the great Priest interpo­sing, Quazmez was forc't to consent to this separation. 'Tis true that the great cou­rage of a King contributed much to this resolution. He burnt with impatiency to be [...] cleer'd of what he was to act, that he might know the name and qualitie of those that gave him life. Quazmez and the Queene his wife, twice or thrice swounded at this parting, and dividing all their apprehensions, for two affections wherein they found no difference, saw themselves brought to such a strait, that they wished continually that the King would depart, and yet could not endure that hee should go away. The great Priest desiring that Zelmatida might not los [...] a time that was so favourable to his enterprize, put an end to his fruitlesse griefes, and made him resolve to be gone. Zel­matida presently left the Pallace, and notwithstanding all the sadnesse and affliction that his noble disposition threw on him, to leave those personages to whom hee was so much oblieged, he tooke what servants he thought fitting and began his journey. The great Priest conducted him many daies by waies unknowne to him, and made him goe through all the kingdome of Quazmez, entertayning him with nothing else [...]ut with the brave adventures that were reserv'd for him. When he was on the frontieres of Mexi­co, he brought him into a little wood, overhung and covered with two great Moun­taines, and led him into a Cave, which was the usuall place of his abode. After they had rested there a while, the venerable old man, drawing aside my Lord the Inca, it is here (said he) that I must leave you, and let you perfect an act, for whose good successe I can contribute nothing but my prayers and teares. Yet, before we part, I will ac­quit my selfe of the promise I made you, and acquaint you what the gods have deign'd to make knowne to mee touching your byrth and adventures. I would I could buy with my blood and the rest of my life, as perfect a knowledge of all that concernes you, that I might free you from the travell and paines whereinto I foresee you entring. Content your selfe with what is permitted you to know, and without further enquiring know that you are the sonne of a great King, and a Queene excelling all others for endow­ments. The rest shall be some time yet concealed from you. Whilest the High-priest spake thus, he perceived by the actions and disquiets of my Lord the Inca, how much the desire to know the truth of his Originall troubled his spirits. To take him out of this torment, he thus continued his discourse: Understand that Quazmez had a daughter, the fayrest that ever trod on earth, almost at the same time that you were borne. He had beene above twenty yeeres married ere he had any childe. This crosse neverthelesse did but increase that piety which to him is naturall. Instead of complayning for his misfor­tune, he made his recourse to the gods, and to make them favourable to him, redoubled his prayers and Sacrifices. In the greatest heate of his devotions, his Queene found her selfe with childe, and brought such a generall consolation to all the kingdome, that it seemed with the byrth of her childe there were to be borne some felicities, which were not to be found on Earth. They called that which she went withall, Given of the Gods, and when he was borne Quazmez receiv'd him for such. And as soone as hee was permitted to carry it out of the chamber, he tooke it in his armes, and carried it himselfe to the Temple and to the Altar of his gods. He sacrificed to them an exceeding great number of all kindes of beasts, to render them thankes for the birth of that daugh­ter: he consecrated her to them, in giving her the name of Xaira, and to this present [Page 46] added such offrings, that people goe at this day to see, as the miracles of piety and royall liberality. His paternall love stayed not at these good workes; but it had a cu­riosity for the time to come, and would knowe to what Fate the gods reserv'd this little creature. I found fault with this desire, and advised him eyther not to diminish his con­tents, or to increase his misfortunes by foreseeing them. Besides, since the mournfull accident (that made me forsake the World) and which my skill made me vainely foresee, since I cannot avoyd it; I had made an oath to containe my selfe in the ignorance of man, and not to make my selfe doubly miserable in searching to know more then o­thers. Notwithstanding all this, the commandment of Quazmez, and that secret in­clination which easily makes us seeke after those things we have sometimes affected, constrain'd me to consult and overlooke my forsaken bookes, and observe the Starres with the same pleasure and the same observations as I look'd on them before my mis­fortune. But what indignation, what malevolence sawe I not in Heaven against this poore Innocent? Truly there is not a starre of any disastrous aspect that was not turn'd against Xaira. I knew it, and if I dare say so, knew infallibly that that Princesse was threatned with five or sixe all extraordinary accidents. I sawe her stolne away in the cradle, nourished by the hands of the King her fathers greatest enemies, con­demn'd to serve one day for a Sacrifice to the cruelty of th [...]se Barbarians, and if shee chanc'd to escape this last misery, destin'd to wander through the world, and to suffer all the indignities that a slave is capable to undergoe. These prodigious objects so a­mazed me, and absolutely mastred my sences, that without an ability for farther inqui­ry, I forsooke my speculation to throw me at the feete of the Altars, and besought the gods that they would divert those dire portents which would induce some miscreants to doubt eyther of their goodnesse or providence. After I had perfected all preparations requisite for the receiving my gods, and to be filld with their inspiration; I felt their presence, and heard their voices, which speaking within me, said: Know that within this moneth shall be executed the blackest and most detestable treason, that ever perfidi­ous Subjects can perpetrate against their Soveraigne. Quito, now triumphant, shall be the [...]ad Theater of this bloudy Tragedy. Without the walls of that City shall be done such an abhominable act by the death of an incomparable Princesse. Let some try to finde her and give her, her last honours, and let the new borne Infant be taken up who comming from the wombe of his mother shall be received by the pawes of pittifull Ti­gers. By the valour of this childe. Xaira shall be restored to her Father, his enemies shall be punished for their inhumanity, and the greatest Empire of the world shall be the reward for the miseries and virtues of that Princesse, who must be unfortunate for her owne glory. The gods, having thus spoke to me, left me, and I found my selfe much comforted. Assoone as it was day I came to Quasmez, and concealing from him part of what I knew, intreated him, that for his owne quiet, and the content of his Sub­jects, he would cause the Princesse to be nursed in some safe place, and to put so many guards about her that it might not be in the power of any of his Subjects, much lesse of any stranger to see her. The King would know particulerly what I gave him this coucell, but beseeching him to cause Xaira to be brought, before I passed further, he comman­ded five or six of his principall Officers to goe fetch her from the Queen. As they who were thus commanded were about to obey him, they heard a great noise, and at the same time saw the Queen enter into Quasmez chamber all undressed and so transported from her selfe, that had she not hapned on the Kings bed, she had fallen in a swound on the planching. Quasmez astonied as well by the Queens swounding as by the councell I late gave him; knew not whether I would conceale from him the death of his wife in shewing the feare I was in for that of his Daughter. And in this doubt, he bewayled his wife as if she had been dead, and looking on me now and then, with his eyes full of teares: I feare (said he) my Father lest the gods be incensed against me to see that I have neglected them, to bestow all my cares and affection upon a creature. I had no [...] leasure to answer him, for five or six women all bloudy with dishevelled haires rushed at the same time into his chamber, and casting themselves about his bed, even terrified us, to see them teare their faces and beate their heads against the floore.

This tragicall beginning was ended by yet more bloudy actions. Foure men with [Page 47] stating eyes, and foaming mouthes presented themselves to Quasmez, and speaking all at once: Since (said they to him) we have not been vigilant enough to preserve our happinesse, we will not be cowardly enough to out live it. And in so saying they tur­ned the pointes of the arrowes they bore in their hands upon themselves, and sticking them with violence into their throates, so amazed us with their desperation, that they tooke from us the meanes to succour them. They fell all foure dead at my feet, and con­firmed me in the opinion I had of the losse of the Princesse. The King, transported with griefe and choler, threw himselfe out of his bed, and went into another Chamber, to give time to his guards to take away the bodies of those desperate men, and to stay the madnesse of the women that would follow their example. For my part, I staied by the Queen, and seeing her recovered, gave her by my discourse some kind of consolation. I told her that she must force her selfe from this sorrow, and not be the cause of the losse of the Father after that of the Daughter. The love which she had still borne to Quas­m [...]z, was sufficient to overcome all her other affections, and to suspend for a while the thought of the rape of Xaira. After I saw her so well recollected, I intreated her to walke to her husband, and to endeavour by her perswasions to make him constantly to endure and suffer the losse of the little Princesse. She punctually observed all that I de­si [...]ed her, and so winningly gave Quasmez this bitter potion, that he tooke it with a great deale of patience. I saw then that it was time to apply the plaister I had provided for that wound, and I therefore told them that the will of the gods was, that their Daughter should be nursed up by their greatest enemy. That the designe the Miscreant had to wrong them, should result cleane contrary to his intention. That they should not engage nor trouble themselves to make any pursuite after those that had stolen her thence, since nothing but ill would come of it. But (said I) if in this disaster, as well as in the rest of your life, you will conforme your selfe to the will of the gods, without a murmure, patiently undergoe, what they have thought fit to be done. I promise you, from them, that one day you shall see your Daughter in that great fortune you reserve for her. There is (by a prodigious accident) a childe to be borne, from whose valour you must expect, not alone the deliverance of Xaira, but withall, the enlarging and establi­shing of your Throne. If the presence of a thing that should be so deare to you, can sweeten the bitternesse of your losse, I know by what meanes you may obtaine it. Till then, I speake so loude, that all might understand me, but at that word comming more neere to them, I told them in their eare, that they should presently cause to march to the City of Quito three or foure thousand of his most hardy and affectionate Subjects, and after that I acquainted them with that which I had been taught from the mouth of the gods; They were pleased to be advised by me, and to follow my counsell and execute this enterprise, made so good an election, that those whom they sent to Quito, found you as I foretold; and tooke you thence so fortunately that without any perill they de­livered you into the hands of Quasmez. This Prince would willingly have kept his losse from the knowledge of his Subjects, but being instantly spread abroad, and knowne even to the furthest par [...]s of his Kingdome, he thought it was not fit to leave his people in this dispaire. He published therefore through all his Provinces, that which I had fore­told of Xaira, and to assure them, discovered to them somewhat of his designe on you. This newes was the cause that all those who saw you in the hands of the Souldiers that brought you, doubted no more of the truth of my predictions, and consequently, though you were but an infant gave you all the honours they conceived they ought to their deli­verer. That which remaines for you now to know, is, not what you should doe, for you understand that already by what I have told you; but the place where your valour must be seen, and the meanes whereby you may come off with renowne. Know then that you must goe as far as to the foote of a great Mountaine called Popocampecho. You may easily know it by the flames it sends forth day and night. There shall you find against whom to exercise your courage. Tread under foot all difficulties, and when you shall have overcome your enemies, march on till you come before a City that gives name to the great Kingdome of Mexico. Twill be in that place that you shall need to use all your strength; but if you doe not betray your selfe, I assure you that you shall come off victor from the combate which you must there undergoe. Yet, among so many good for­tunes, [Page 48] I see a disastrous accident may betide you, but I dare not make it knowne to you, so openly as is fitting, for fea [...] lest in striving to make you avoyde it, I my selfe throw you headlong into it. If you love your owne content take heede you trust not to any thing but your owne courage, and without thinking how to conquer any thing new, have no thought but for the recovery of what you have lost. Above all make but little stay at Mexico, returne to Quasmez with his Daughter, and if you will not be all your life time worthy of pitty, faile not, before the Moone hath been six times at full to be at the place where you were first taken up from the pawes of the pitifull Tigers. Beleeve me my deare Son, remember all my advertisements, and in so doing, you shall be more great then were ever your predecessors. The old Priest thus ended his discourse, and made my Lord the Inc [...] take a little repast; which done, they went both out of the ca­verne, and walked musing till they came to a very large and open plaine. The Hie-priest stopping at the end of this champion, stood long times looking on my Master, and on the suddaine (I know not what divine fury agitating him) he lifted his eyes to Heaven, and as if he had remarked that the misfortunes which he foresaw, could not be avoyded, he began to weepe on Zelmatida, gazed upon him with as much pitty as if had been ready to dye, and left him without the power of speaking to him one word. The Prince ta­king this sad parting for a certaine presage of the miseries that should accompany his enterprise, yet gave not ov [...]r to pursue it with as much fervency and delight as he had resolved. He travelled many daies and nights without discovering the fatall mountaine where those puissant obstacles were to be met withall which Tisnatides had foretold him. Now, on [...] night when the obscurity and absence of the Moone gave a great luster to the lesser light [...], he saw fire which rising from the earth, to a certaine height, fell downe againe on it selfe, and spreading into the forme of a Crowne hung in the aire so long as Z [...]lmatida was to come from the place where this light had made him stay, to the foote of the Mountaine Pococampecho. When, by the extreame flame that flew out of it, he knew the place that he had so long wished for, he forgot to remember the menacing [...] of Tisnatidez, and stopped short, not to admire that rare effect of nature but to defie in combate those unknowne enemies whose vanquishing was not so certaine­ly assured him, but that he had neede of all his best manhood to atchieve it. After hehad staied there a little while, without occasion to defend himselfe against any thing but coales, and burning flints which breaking out of the entralls of the Rock were throwne on him by the force of the flame, he withdrew a little farther from so incommodious a station, and entered into a hollow way. He had not gone five hundred paces, when he came to a foure crosse way and saw by the light of that fire which came out of the Mountaine a woman chained by the feet and the hands, and who in spite of her fetters, tore off her haire, se [...]atched her face, and by her pittifull shreekes in voked both men and gods to her succour. There were fast by her five men, of which three had already breathed their last through their wounds, and the other two seemed by their languishing aspects to testifie, that only the griefe to leave that faire desolate Lady hindred them from dying. This bloudy adventure, did not only fill the Prince with astonishment and pitty, but animated him to deliver the prisoner. He was hindred by the arrivall of foure men, who through fury, or basenesse pursued one of those single men. His noblenesse stirring him at the sight of so foule an assasinat, carried him among the combitants, and causing him to take the part of the weakest, he made him the strongest, by the death of two of those murderers. He would have gone on with his just punishment, when a new combatant appeared, who, to be a partner in this revenge, strooke him downe dead with who [...] Zelmatida was fighting. There was but one left, who weakened by his woundes, and affrig [...]ted to see himselfe in the [...]idst of three so p [...]tent enemies, let him­selfe fall at their feet, and assoone dyed, certainely with the very feare of dying. Zelma­tida seeing no more enemies, came neere to tho [...]e two valiant warriors to rejoyce with them for their victory, and to aske them the ca [...]se of so many m [...]ders; but presently they cast themselves f [...]r aloofe from him, and after the one of them had reproached the other with his many ingratitudes and perfidiousnesse, they began so suddaine and so fu­rious a comb [...]te, that th [...] last commer strooke dead the other, before Zelmatida could seperate them. This strange accident so much troubled him, that without considering [Page 49] whether he might undertake with justice the revenging the vanquished, he would needs fall on the vanquisher. But the wounded man withholding him, doe not (said he) avenge an ingratefull person, who to satisfie a brutish passion hath violated the most holy Lawes which are amongst men. And after he had said so, he crept or rather drew himselfe along neere to the enchained Lady, and casting on her his halfe dead eyes, tis you (said he) incomparable Coriza, who by your charmes, stronger then duty, bloud and obligations, have reduced me to that cruell necessity of betraying my benefactor, and to throw by that respect I owed your virtue. Whilst he spoke thus, the Victor came neere, and accused him of many horrible crimes; but the other insteed of answering to his accusations, shewed him the fettered Lady, as to tell him, that the excuse of all his faults was written in so faire a face. Neverthelesse he asked forgivenesse from his Conqueror, and so falling downe, yeelded up his life on the feet of the faire captive, either to have the comfort of kissing them at his death, or to witnesse by this act of hu­mility, that he desired pardon both for his love and boldnesse. In the meane time the party victorious, threw himselfe at the feet of the Lady, kissed her fetters, washed them with his teares, and with downe cast eyes, you (said he) shall be most just if you make me undergoe all the rigour that the most unworthy and most ingratefull amongst men deserves. The Lady interrupting him, Tumanama (said she) neither accuse your selfe nor me of your ill fortune. Your generousnesse and my confidence suffered us not to suspect a man who by so many actions made us to know him to be as discreet as trusty. Yet O faire Coriza (answered Tumanama) you have not failed to be exposed to the in­juries of a cruell captivity, and to endure all the outrages, that the bruitishnesse of a Monster had a will to exercise against your virtue. At the names of Tumanama and Co­riza, Zelmatida recollected his spirits, and comming neere these two lovers, would see before he spake, whether this Tumanama were he, whose friendshippe he had got­ten by those generous waies which I have not long since related to you. He therefore look'd on him, and knowing him, what (said he) shall Zelmatida be so unfortunate that his deare Tumanama will not know him? These words brought Tumanama back a­gaine from the deepe meditation wherein he was in undoing his Mistesses chaines, and made him turne his eyes on Zelmatida.

After he had earnestly looked on him, he knew him, though the lightsomnes of the place was not sufficient to make them well knowe their countenances: and rising to embrace him; O my deliverer (said he) hath the providence of the gods brought you into these Deserts to save my life a second time, and to preserve to the faire Coriza this unworthy cause of her afflictions as well as of her love? Zelmatida embrac'd him often times before he made answere, and hiding from him the truth of his voyage, told him that the service of the King his father oblieged him to goe to the Court of the King of Mexico unknowne; he came thither by chance, where five men would have murthe­red him whom he had kill'd. But tell me (said he) by what strange accident the Prin­cesse Coriza came to be in that estate I found her, and why you have flayne a man who seem'd to take on him her defence? That story is long (reply'd Tumanama) yet I will not forbeare to relate it as succinctly as I can. But first bee pleased that I unloade my faire Princesse of those chaines, with which the perfidious Maranita hath shewed her more his bruitishnesse then his affection. When he had said thus, he kneeled down, and was in that posture till he had broken all the faire Coriza's bonds. This done, he pre­sented Zelmatida to the Princesse, and adressing his discourse to her; See said he Coriza the generous Prince, that for your sake forgetting my revolts and insolencies, would not only give me my life and preserve my honour, but withall disdain'd not to receive me into the number of his frends. You see what he hath done for your deliverance; give me leave to relate to him by what mishap you came to have neede of his courage, and that I may justifie my selfe for the death of the traytor that fought for you. Coriza here began to speake, and told Zelmatida that the perplexities wherein she was, gave her not the liberty to satisfie the obligations in which she was bound to him, as well for her owne conservation, as for her lovers; but (said she) untill a better fortune give mee a­bler meanes to acknowledge your favours, accept the recytall of my mishappes for a beginning of my payment. Here Tumanama began, and making use of the permissi­on [Page 50] that Coriza gave him; I was at the point (said he) to Zelmatida, to receive, not the recompance of my services, for they are not considerable, but the greatest proofes of the goodnesse of Coriza; when as Maranita whom I had bred up as my brother, and made partaker of all my secrecies as the best of my friends, resolv'd himselfe on a trea­son so bruitish, that it is not possible love should be the cause of it. I had sent him to accompany the Princesse and to receive her, out of my commands, but he most perfidious, having long before combyn'd with some others like himselfe for the taking away of Co­riza, surprized her one night and carried her away from the midst of her guards and chayning her, as you saw, brought her into this place, with an intent to goe further even to the Court of Montezuma, to finde there a Sanctuary for her perfidy. The news of this attempt being brought me, imagine (if possible you can) the complaints I made, the blasphemies I threw out against the providence of our gods, and the horrible actions my despaire made me resolve on. I flew after the ravisher of my blisse, without the knowledge or my advertizing of any of my subjects, and fearing no danger but that which threatned Coriza. I ran through the Woods and Mountaines, and got into the countrey of my greatest enemy. I was so happy in my search, that yesterday at Sun-set I descry'd Maranita's troupe. That object transporting me with [...]; I neither consi­dered the number of my enemies, nor the inequality of the combat I was about, but desperately fell in among the traytors, to have atleast the contentment to die in the sight of my Coriza. Maranita, eyther not induring to see mee, or persecuted with the re­morse of his Conscience, made ten or twelve of his associats to turne on me, and kept forth his way whilest I strove to rid me of those that would stop me. I spent all the rest of the day, to bring them in case that they should no more contest with me for my pas­sage and party of the night to follow the ravisher. You saw how I found him, and you must now informe me who were those that fought with him, and what oblieged you to fight in his defence, Therewith Coriza spake. Zelmatida (said shee to her lo­ver) cannot satisfie your demand. I alone knowe the true cause of that combat, not on­ly because it was done in my presence, but that by my endeav [...]ur it was undertaken. You shall know that among those whose service Maranita made use of for my rape, there were two, who not being able to see mee without loving me (at least they strove to perswade me so) gave me their fayths that they would free mee from the hands of that Traytor. But they asked me for my ransome, that which I could not grant them. I feyn'd yet, to consent and did so dex [...]rously keepe them in their resolution, that seeing my selfe at the point to lose that person which of all in the world is most deare to mee, and incomparably more precious then my life; I would try this last remedy, and by all meanes [...]ee mee from the tyranny of Maranita. I call'd then for my two lovers, and having conjur'd them to leave me no longer at the mercy of our common enemie; I perswaded them so effectually, that presently under some ill pretext they quarelled, and fell on him. Truly on this occasion he shewed a great deale of courage. Two of his e­nemies he slew, and though his owne had not come to helpe him, I beleeve hee had beene able enough to have dispatch'd all the rest. Amongst the five bodies you see ly­ing there on my right hand, are my unfortunate lovers. This while those that remay­ned of the conspiracy, desirous to revenge their deaths, let drive at Maranita, but be­ing stoutly repuls'd, they were constrayned to take them to their heeles.

Maranita transported with fury, followed them, with those of his owne party, and was an houre before I saw him againe. For my self, I was not in a little trouble, for I saw an occasion present it selfe, to get me away, and when I would have put it in exe­cution, I knew, that by reason of the chaines on my heeles I was not possibly able to goe. I threw my selfe then on the ground againe, and calling oftentimes Tumanama to helpe me, I would needes try whether my fetters were not strong enough to free me from my slavery. I had already many times beate them against my face, when I percei­ved Maranita retiring before foure men, who doubtlesse would have made him smart for the death of their companions. This new combate staied my fury, and made me hope to obtaine by other hands then mine owne, the end of my captivity. And true­ly, but for the succour you gave him (said she, regarding Zelmatida) the traytors them­selves had avenged me on the Author of their treason. But twas [...]t he shōuld receive [Page 51] the punishment of his crimes, from the hand of him whom he had the most offended, and that he should fall, under the victorious armes of my deare Tumanama. This Prin­cesse could no longer continue her discourse, nor the Princes stay longer by her, for at that very instant they perceived a Troupe of armed men like the theeves that run through the Realme of Mexico. Zelmatida and Tumanama, attended by some servants, went to meet them, and without giving them time to bethinke themselves so furiously charged them, that a part of them were left dead on the place, and the rest got away and saved themselves in the wood that is at the foote of the burning Mountaine. Zel­matida seeing that these petty incounters were so easily put over, perswaded himselfe that the Hie-priest had made matters far more dangerous then they were, but he soone changed his opinion, for he saw a man higher then he by the halfe, who made the same noise in running as a man would doe armed after your fashion. This Giant carried on his shoulders a club, heavy enough to braine by his weight many men at once. He lif­ted up this mighty logge of wood against Zelmatida, and threatning him, yeeld (said he) or prepare thy selfe to suffer the punishment I reserve for those of thy quality. Zelma­tida insteed of losing time in vaine replies, imployed it in purging the world of a Mon­ster who alone was able to make it desolate. He darted a long Javelin at him which fell luckily at his feet and gave him a great wound. The Giant roring as an enraged Lion, threw himselfe on my deare Master and had almost overthrowne him; but his agility serving him insteed of strength, he passed this great stroke in slipping aside, and gave the Giant a blow far more dangerous then the first. The Giant feeling himselfe so wounded recoyled to take his ayme and kill his enemie with one sole blow of his club. But seeing it a vailed him not, he betooke him to other weapons and gave my Lord the Inca divers blowes which he could not avoyde. He was wounded in many places, and had been in danger of his life, if desperately throwing himselfe on his enemy he had not luckily stroke his head through with his halfe pike. The Giant, with the blow tooke his death and fell at the feet of his conqueror. About that time the day arose and Zel­matida weakned with his travell and the losse of bloud was enforced to lay him on the ground. Coriza ran quickly to him with two of his slaves, and weeping told him, that whilst he fought Tumanama was like to be murdred by other theeves, and that he was exceedingly wounded. In that extreamity the gods made knowne that they watch al­waies for the safety of extraordinary men, for within a little after Zelmatida saw many men and women comming out from among the trees and bushes which grow on the descent of the mountaine. These people seemed to be very much affrighted, for such as had taken the boldnesse to come downe lower then their companions, fled presently after with as much feare and hast as if indeed they had been pursued. Zelmatida looking on them, beckoned that they should come to him, but whether they tooke no heede to it, or were too much afraide, once, they would not come out of their fastnesse. This while Tumanama was no sooner recoverd from his fainting occasioned by his wounds, but he besought Coriza to informe him whether my Lord the Inca were dead: He is not, said the Princesse, but his prodigious valour hath triumphed over that terrible Giant as well as on his other enemies. If it be so, replied Tumanama, bring me to him, to the end, that taking that excellent man for a witnesse and executor of my last will, I may before my death pay some of those obligations for which I stand engaged to you, and give you a defender that may free your virtue from the oppression of any miscreant. Coriza melting into teares at the discourse of her lover, helped to raise him, and taking him under the arme, led him where Zelmatida was laied downe. Imagine, the con­tentment those two perfect friends received in their interviewe. Tumanama hard­ly being able to speake. Zelmatida (said he) to my deare Master; the Gods reserve you for so many other faire adventures, that I am most assured, that this last shall not give an end to your life. Therefore I conjure you by our sincere amity to take Cori­za into your protection, and to put her in possession of those estates that I leave her, as a token of my most humble servitude. He could not continue this discourse for his be­ing invironed with the same men that had so long looked on Zelmatida from the toppe of the Mountaine. They began all to gaze on the two Princes; and to shew their asto­nishment by their gestures and their cries. Some went to visit the bodies of those that [Page 52] were slaine, and the first they met withall was the Giant. At sight of him, their cries or to say more properly, their howlings redoubled. Some of them after they had turned the Giant on all sides came running to the Princes and inquired, which of them 'twas that had been able to fi [...]ish so hard an enterprise? Tumanama weake as he was, failed not to raise himselfe to speake to those Villagers, and tell them in what manner Zelmatida had vanquished the Giant. Instantly they threw themselves on their knees round about my Lord the Inca, and kissing his feet and his hands, cried out, that the fearfull Popocam­pecho had received a chastisement for his offences, and that one of their gods had taken the shape of a man to avenge all Mexico. Scarce had they finished these words when men, women and children came and cast themselves at the feet of Zelmatida, and kissing the earth, give him all the thanks they could. Zelmatida intreated them not to goe on in their Idolatries, and told them that he was no god, but a man, who having almost shed all his bloud, was even ready to expire if he were not the sooner relieved. These words increased the wonder of the country people, and made them more earnestly to search for their remedies. Some ran one way, others another, and those of the better sort staying to assist Zelmatida and Tumanama, carried them to certaine houses which were at the foot of the Mountaine towards the Sun rising. Tumanama being lesse wounded then Zelmatida was recured in few daies, by virtue of the herbes of the bur­ning Mountaine, and desirous to observe that which my deare Master had prescribed him, tooke his leave of him assoone as he could, and departed towards his owne home to fast there those delights which the possession of the faire Coriza could give him. Zel­matida, who was honored as a god amongst those rusticall people, was looked after with so good successe, that in fifteen daies (by virtue of those herbes they applied to them) his woundes were all closed up, and cured. I cannot relate to you the love those Mexicans shewed him, nor their well treating him. Amongst all their kindnesses he still mused on his journy, and thinking on the predictions of Tisnatidez, imagined the event of things cleane contrary to that which hapned. If (said he to himselfe) a combate whereof the Hie-priest told me not, but as of an accident scarce considerable hath brought me to the extreamity wherein I am, I must presently resolve, to perish in that which I am to undertake at Mexico. I remember well his very words. There (said he, speaking of the burning Mountaine) you shall finde against whom to exercise your cou­rage. And when you have overcome your enemies; goe on, neere to a Towne that gives name to the Kingdome of Mexico. It wil be ther that you wil have need of all your forces. What extraordinary forces should the gods send me (continued Zelmatida) to be a victor yet on the second occasion, since in this first I have met with none which have not been almost overcome? This consideration lasted no longer then his sicknesse. Assoone as he could walke, he forgot what was passed and feared, not what was to come after. Yet staied he sometime with those people to get his perfect health and strength, and to exterminate that mischievous brood of Robbers. He therefore got a­broad, followed by all the inhabitants of the mountaine, and marched into the thickest of the woods and the depth of the caves to finde out those publike pestilences.

In eight daies he executed of them two hundred, and discovering the last place of their retreit, he besieged them, and after two or three affaults, seeing they were too well entrench'd to be taken, he permitted (the poore people whom these monsters had so long time persecuted) to burne them, and for ever to destroy the seede of them. When he sawe that there was no more to doe for the safety of the villagers, he thank'd them, for the respect he had there found, and by a speech that drew teares from all that were about him, promised his assistance whensoever they should stand in neede of it. He thought by this, that he had bid them farewell, but he was much deceiv'd, when he would have beene gone: They told him, that for the good he had done to all the country, they were bound to conduct him where his valour should receive the reward it had deserved. This new promise of honour displeased him extreamly; but well hee might strive to put it off, and feigne important designes to alter the resolutions of those people, 'twas all to no purpose, and when he thought to have stolne from them, hee found it as much impossible. There was nothing then but patience; goe he must, and be content to conforme himselfe to the will of his rustica [...]ll and indiscrete admirers. [Page 53] The day of their departing agreed on, there assembled at least five or six hundred accou­tred after their manner; that was, from the gyrdle to their knees cover'd with fea­thers of divers colours, Hats of flowres on their heads, and bowes and arrowes in their hands. They were ready to dislodge at day breake, and as soone as Zelmatida was ready, they put themselves in order and marched by sixe and sixe before him. They sung in such a tone as was never heard, and leaping, and dancing in such postures, enough to make a man die with laughing; seem'd to leave nothing undone which could be wish'd for by their deliverer. One amongst them that had the stature of a Gyant carried a Lance made of an entyre tree, at whose end hee had fixed the head Popocampecho, and underneath were hung his armes in manner of a trophy. Zelmatida followed ac­companied with two men that Tumanama had left him. Fifteene or twenty of Po­pocampechoes companions, whom they had kept alive for this tryumph, were bound in chaines of gold, and came after my deare Lord, compell'd by the bastonadoes of their guard, which were often redoubled in remembrance of the miseries they had for­merly endured by them. During all the journey, the King passed not by any place that was inhabited, where he was not received with all the honour that they could have given to Montezuma himselfe. Those that liv'd on the high way prepar'd Sacrifices for him, and presented themselves with the same respects and ceremonies as they observ'd before their gods. Those which abode further off came to attend him as hee passed with presents, and all gave him the title of their Deliverer, as if in the death of Popocam­pecho he had exterminated all the Monsters of Mexico. After many of such pleasant dayes travell, the King espied a towne farre greater then all the rest he had seene in his journey. He asked the name of it, of the most eminent of his troupe, who told him that it was the capitall City of the kingdome, called Mexico, and that they conducted him thither to be presented to the Queene Hismelita, who in the absence of Montezu­ma did performe all the royall offices. The king hath commanded me to tell you that this newes amaz'd him, with such an apprehension that he never met with before. He knew before the end of this day that this feare had beene the certaine presage of his imprisonment, and a secret advertisement which he received from the gods, to observe all those things which they had anounced to him by the mouth of their hye-Priest. But in lieu of giving this explication to his feare, he condemn'd himselfe as a weake man; and taking rash resolutions, scorn'd all the perills which he was to run through. This done, he began to take notice of the marvelous seituation of Mexico, and before hee came on that long causeway, which crosseth the marshes where it is built, stay'd in a Playne so covered with flowres and trees, compassed with so many channells, and wa­tred with so many sources of living fountaines, that he confest there was nothing more delightfull to be seen. He had walk'd a little while amongst those trees, when they which marched in the van, stopped, and caused the rest to doe so too. The reason of this stay was soone knowne, as well by the shoutes of some as the talke of others. The most forward came to the King and told him that Hismalita was set downe in that mea­dowe with all her Court, and should seeme was expresly come thither to receive him. Presently Zelmatida commanded that all those that were before him should open their ranks, and range themselves in file on both sides the way. It was as soone done as com­manded, and then the king sawe the Queenes Troupe; when hee imagined that they saw him, he tooke a javelin, and marched up to that Princesse with such a grace and ma­jesty, that in the judgement of all those that were with Hismelita, they were found to be beyond comparison. I have heard by others more particularly then from my deare Master of this interview. I will therefore make an essay to relate to you what I under­stood of it, though in so doing I goe beyond the bounds prescrib'd me. Though Zelma­tida be not now in case to terrifie any, you must not therefore conceive him so in that brave day as you see him now before you. Those griefes that gnaw him, and that de­spaire which continually kills him, had not yet chang'd the first colour of his lookes, faded the freshnesse of his colour, nor deaded the fire of his eyes. To speake him to you in one word, he was that body of which you now only see the shadow. Adde to those charmes that which fame made march before him, to conquer reason before sence could be overcome, and with all [...] perfections contemplate him before the Queene of Mexico.

[Page 54] As soone as he had done his obeysance to her, he intreated pardon for the insolent traine wherewith he was inforced to come before her, and concealing his condition and Countrey, made himselfe taken for a kinsman of the last Cacique that Montezuma had brought under his obedience. He told her that his duty and ill fortune equally con­straining him to leave his Countrey, he was come to serve Montezuma; and that pas­sing neere to a Mountaine that throwes forth fire, he had been set on by theeves, and had killed some of them, since when, at the intreaty of those who conducted him, and besides, seeing an expresse commandement signed by the hand of the King he had made some stay there, to purge the Countrey of those villaines; and that after the end of that little warre he would have rebetaken himselfe to his intended journey, but that it was not in his power to rid himselfe of the people that came with him. That he had been compelled to present himselfe before her in the estate she saw, and (weighing his being forced) he beseeched her humbly to consider him as a prisoner, that doth nothing but by the command of another, rather then as one indiscreet whose vanity makes him not know himselfe. Hismalita, replied, that for his delivering Mexico from a Monster, estee­med indomptable, there were not honours nor triumphs beyond his desert. That the pesants of whom he complained, had done nothing but what was commanded them: And that he should expect more glorious assurances of the magnificence, and love of Montezuma, then the rusticall intertainement of the inhabitants of Popocampecho had made him shew of, in witnessing to him their sensibilities of what he had done for them. These discourses gave place to others; and the Queen after she had dismissed the peo­ple that encompassed her to behold this meeting, retained no more but Zelmatida and his two followers. The Court, thus remained freed, and had a long time its eyes fixed on my deare Master, as on an object worthy of admiration. Hismalita had never a Son, but she had foure Daughters, who though not much resembling, were neverthelesse perfectly beautifull. Zelmatida gave them almost the same compliment he had given their Mother; but he had no sooner cast his eyes on the tallest, though she was not the eldest, but a second feare almost put him from himselfe, and left him no longer to doubt of the cause of his first. The accustomed civilities being ended, the Queen commanded my deare Master to tell her what the misfortune was that had obliged him to abandon his Countrey, and by what miracle he became able to vanquish Popocampecho. He had not power enough over his soule to obey her; for he spake with such remarkable diversions, and deportments so far unlike those which were expected from him, that Hismalita tooke heede of it, and all the Court beleeved that he was thus confused, be­cause he had not been accustomed to live among that pompe and luster wherewithall great Princes are invironed. He intertained the Mother, and looked on the Daughter, he smiled insteed of answering the Queen when she asked him some serious question, and he was heard to sigh in recounting some adventures wherein he had all kind of advanta­ges. The end of that day being for my deare Master an unpleasing conversation; the Queen commanded him to follow her. He came along to her Pallace, and for all that could present it selfe for his object, he gave not over his musings. When he was in the Queens Chamber he impatiently wished that he might entertaine that young Marvell that had so easily overcome him. An occasion offered it selfe, for Hismalita being en­gaged to dispatch two posts which the King her husband had sent her, retired into her Councell Chamber. By her absence, Zelmatida abode in the most delectable company he could desire, and found a facile meanes to content his new passion. The first that be­gan a word to entertaine him, was she, who in so little a space of time had caused so great a change in him. She had a far better wit then her sisters, and her conversation was so sweet, that it is to be beleeved, that had she had lesse beauty then she was en­dowed with, the charmes of her minde were strong ynough to winne and arrest eter­nally whatsoever he were that deserved the quality of an honest man. Her high humour had till then kept her in such a contempt of our sex, that she beleeved not, men were worth the paines to be overcome. And though she were in a Court which from all times had been the seate of pleasure, of love, and all galantry, she yet lived with an in­credible severity, and reserving all her light to her selfe, she did not only laugh at the curi­osity of those of her age, but insteed of borrowing from Art strange attires and orna­ments, [Page 55] she would not endure that nature should freely serve her selfe of the greater part of her owne.

Living in this manner, it required the same spirit and the same knowledge that my Lord the Inca possest, to have the same passion. He made it appeare from that evening that his Love was of that nature which instantly deprives men of all judgement. For I­zatida (so was the Princesse called) asking him some question, he found himselfe speech­lesse when he would have given her an answere. Shee noted in his face, I know not what of a man transported with joy; and who the more makes knowne his irregular passions by his unprofitable strivings to conceale them. And although Zelmatida would never be wonne to beleeve that this young Princesse loved him, yet a thousand proofes too visible, have made me ever thinke otherwise; and I am certaine that the residue of my relation will make you of my opinion: This Princesse then unwilling that the losse of a person whom she already esteemed as one of hers, should be knowne; told him that understanding from himselfe a part of those adventures had befaln him, and the per­secutions wherewith fortune had crossed his virtue; Her sisters and her selfe would wil­lingly know the rest, and that they intreated him to give them that contentment; and not condemne for too much boldnesse a curiosity which grew only from the esteeme they had of him. My deare Master, from thence, taking occasion to begin a discourse that might serve for his Love. I have (said he) too much proofe of the Justice, or rather of the hatred of the gods, to beleeve that there hath ever any thing happened in my life may be worthy your esteeme or curiosity. 'Tis for you, and those incomparable beau­ties about you, that those powers reserve all that can be call'd glory, value and admirati­on. Men are for no other end in the world but that you might have slaves; and that the Altars which you have merited, may be perpetually laden with offrings and sacrifices. O how happy may they esteeme themselves who have purity enough to be offered in so famous an oblation I but who dares vaunt of so much purity? Izatida, foreseeing what would ensue on this discourse, broake it off; and reviving the first, You may have li­berty of speech (said she to Zelmatida) but you cannot deprive us of that opinion which the publique voice hath given us of your valour, and we know well (I speake for my sisters and my selfe) how to distinguish your humility from that which fame hath made us to admire in you before your arrivall. What could report speake in my behalfe (reply'd Zelmatida) who being b [...]t one, most miserable, whom fortune left to wander through the world, to make her power to be feared, am brought to that cruell necessity to end my dayes without a name, without any rest or hope? Izatida (who question­lesse knew what he intended) reply'd; I have never heard that a man of spirit would so absolutely give himselfe into the hands of fortune, but that he would reserve a meanes to be reveng'd when he found that he had her in his power. You have hitherto done such things that they are so many witnesses whereby that enemy hath made you acquire more glory then shee hath been cause of the losse of your repose, and by consequence hath gi­ven you more then ever she tooke from you. Quit then that ill opinion which you have of your fortune and your selfe, and assure your selfe th [...]t there are not many felicities which your virtues may not with reason pretend to. This discourse had longer conti­nued, if Izatida's sisters had not interrupted her, and by their jealousies, as it were, ravi­shed from Zelmatida the occasion to make himselfe knowne to be no lesse winning in his conversation, then he was redoubtfull in his combats. This while the Queene had perfected her dispatches, and then returned where she left her daughters with Zelmati­da, and from thence going into her bed-chamber, gave her new Guest the good-night. As soone as he was gone forth, ten or twelve Officers came and accompanied him to the lodgings provided for him. He was brought into a chamber so faire and richly fur­nished, that if he had not too well remembred the losse Izatida had made him [...], he might there have refreshd and unwearied himselfe of all his former travells. But his af­fections hindred him from enjoying that rest which his valour made him finde in the very midst of his Enemies. Sometimes he entertaind himselfe with Izatidaes sweete eyes, sometimes with the whitenesse of her complexion, then with the beauty of her stature, and after with the colour of her hayre. But when he passed from the allurements of her body to those of her minde, he was no more capeable to feare the disasters where­withall [Page 56] Quasmez high-Priest had threatned him. Prophet (said he, so lowd that he was heard by his followers) give me leave to accuse you of injustice in your councells. Why would you have me to defend my selfe when I see no enemie to assaile me, if you give not that name to the sole Author of my lives felicity? Certainely you little knew the power of Isatida's eyes, when you thought me able enough to resist them.

But what said I? No, no, you had a perfect konwledge of it, and well foresaw my captivity, when you foretold me that I should be victorious in this last combate if I were alwaies my selfe. You were not ignorant that that would be impossible for me, since to behold this wonder, and to be master of himselfe, was to trenche upon the wisdome of the very gods, and to act something beyond their miracles. In the like dis­course he passed the rest of the night, and without comforting himselfe with any of those hopes wherewithall Lovers are accustomed to flatter themselves; made no o­ther resolution then to force Xaira from her prison, and himselfe to abide eternally in that of Isatida. In this thought he called his servants. Those that they had given to serve him, dressed him whilst he entertained himselfe only with his passion. He was in this melancholy till the Queen was up, and when he knew that she was ready to goe to the Temple, he came forth to accompany her. Hismalita obliged him to spend most of the day with her, and the houre being come at what time she was used to walke, she brought him into those faire Meadowes, where he saw her the first time, and her Daugh­ters were with them. Isatida who that day had begun to borrow something of art to make her more lovely, appeared to the Kings eyes, as if beauty it selfe seated in her Throne, imperiously commanded him neither to doe nor thinke any thing but for her. As soone as those who carried the Queene and the Princesses had set them downe, Zel­matida was engaged to be with Hismalita, and constrained not to discourse with Isati­da but with his eyes and thought. The Queene intertained him a long time with the state of her affaires, and the secret factions that the jealousie of divers Caciques, and the arrivall of some unknowne men had hatched among her Subjects. The nothing-to-the­purpose speeches wherewith Zelmatida interrupted the Queenes discourse and the councells out of all likelihood which he would have her accept as the safest, made him so unlike himselfe, that Hismalita had small cause to take him for that famous Heire of Quasmez who had made himselfe dreadfull to all the Potentates of our world. And to say truth, who would ever have thought, that this great Prince who till then had never any passion but for fame, who had so absolutely renounced all the pleasures of youth and sence, and who by the strength and solidity of his deliberations had astonished the anci­entest Councellors of the State of Quasmez, had been capable of such an alteration? Yet he was so, and added so many extravagancies to those which had already weariedH is­malita, that she diverted her speech to some others that were neere her, to have no more on her hands, a man, that was such ill company. This disgrace, was, to him, very fa­vourable, for by that, he had sooner the liberty to speake to Isatida, and to continu e the discourse which he had begun the day before. He drew neere her, and unheard of any body, tooke so fitly an occasion to make her know his sufferings, that in lieu of those or­dinary neglects which are most commonly the first answers of those that are spoken to in the dialect of love; he received from Isatida only words of civility. All the rest of the day passed in the like entertaines, and (if I may speake it) before that my deare Master left that amyable Princesse, he had cause to beleeve that her discretion much pleased him. The night comming on, the Queene returned with all her Court, but more satisfied with Zelmatida's valour then his wit. On the other side, the Prince, not being able to repent the overture of his affection to Isatida, was willing to let some daies slip away, to give time to that Princesse to accustome her selfe to his passion. In the meane while, the continuall converse he had with her, made him discover so many new inticements, that he had been indeed mor [...] insensible then judicious, if he had pre­ferred the hopes of an Empire before those of the enjoying Isatida. Besides he saw him­selfe received with so much sweetnesse, and his discourse listned to, with so many signes of satisfaction, that had he been lesse scrupulous then he was, he had been a [...]ured of the Pincesses good affection. But his discretion and love forbad him to hope for so great a happinesse, yet finding her one day in a place where with freedome he might use his [Page 57] language; he let his passion so much transport him, that he made her a more ample and expresse declaration then any of his former, and that shee might not condemn him of boldnesse or daring, assured her that he was the sonne of a King. This audacious pro­position was in all likelyhood to have a contrary successe then it had, but the Prince his infinite love, and the purity of his intention deserv'd not a lesse favourable treatment. Isatida blush'd at the freenesse of my deare Master, and rested some while silent, but comming at last from her bashfullnesse; I shall be glad (said she) to see whether you be capeable of that perfection whereof you vaunt your selfe. I accept of your service, and promise you to put your patience to the test.

See how Isatida express'd her affection to my Lord the Inca: but (said she) tis pos­sible that you are ignorant how rigorous the conditions are, by which I give you leave to serve me. It behooves you to have an asseduitie without example, that your re­spects goe even to Idolatry, and that Death it selfe be not powerfull enough to breake your silence, And more, take it for most certayn [...] that you lose me for ever, if ever your love comes not only to the knowledge of the Queene my Mother, but to any person else whatsoever, though it were to wrong both the one and the other of these two lo­vers to attribute this effect to causes lesse illustrious then their virtues; yet I have often thought that the overture which Zelmatida made of his byrth to the Princesse was not one of the least weapons that love made use of, to subdue this imperious valour. Things being on these termes; the King bethought him of Quasmez, and at the same instant re­solved to imploy Isatida for the delivery of Xaira. One day therefore, finding an oc­casion to speake to her, without any over-hearing, he entertain'd her long time with the obligations he stood engaged to her, gave her new assurances of his inviolable fide­lity, and making, as I may say, his heart to come on his lippes, constrayned Isatida to confesse in her selfe that it was impossible not to suffer her selfe to be overcome by the perswasions of a Lover so discreete and passionate. When Zelmatida sawe her so well prepared: If I may be permitted (said he) to forget my selfe for a little time, and glo­rying in my good fortune, aspire higher then I ought; be pleased faire Isatida that I de­sire from you a new favour, to assure me that you have not repented of those which you have already bestowed on me. Isatida stopping him as he was going on with this dis­course, told him that those words which he imployed to prepare her to accept his pe­tition, were so many injuries done to her friendshippe: That she conjured him to be­leeve that there was nothing, whilest he was as sage and respectfull as hitherto hee had beene, which he might not without vanity promise himselfe from a person who made a particular profession to be just; That he should not therefore feare to make known what he desired from her, and that he should assure himselfe that his request should bee absolutely unjust or else be granted him. Zelmatida, unwilling to shewe of too much boldnesse or too much feare, lest any of them might seeme too much affected, and by consequence vitious, thought that he might adventure. He besought therefore with his usuall grace a favorable audience from Isatida, and obtayning it, told her in few words his engagements to the King Quasmez, made knowne the principall accidents of his infancy, the revelation of the high-Priest, the rapt of the Princesse Xa [...]ra, and intreated her not to take it amisse, that next the honour of her favours, hee wish [...]d for nothing in the World so much, as the occasions to serve that good King, who had [...]ver beene to him instead of a Father, These words were followed by many other, [...]hat seemed to conclude how it was in the power of Isatida to set Xaira at liberty. The Prin­cesse hearkened very attentively to the beginning of his speech, but seeing the fervent­nesse where with he pressed her to deliver a person unknowne to her; She interru [...]ted him, and assured, that his high-Priest had ill divin'd, and that there was nev [...]r any X [...]i­ra nor mayde stolne away in the Court of Hismalita. 'Tis not that I would put you out of hope; I have a Governesse who hath beene in the Court these fifty yeares, and shee loves me with so blinded a passion that she will tell me whatsoere I would know of he [...], though in the revealing, it should hazard her life. Set your minde then at rest, and [...]x­pect from my diligence all that you can expect for the [...]leering of your imployment. Zelmatida had set his knee to the ground to thanke Isatida, and began his actions of gratitude, when by the comming of one of Hismalita's E [...]nuques he was interrupted. For she naturally [...]ealous, cruell and suspitious, would not suffer my deare Master (since [Page 58] she perceived he affected it) but with much a doe, the conversation of Isatida. Yet she made him no shew of her ill humor, but caused him to be continually watched by her trusty spies; and as soone as she knew him to be with the Princesse, she still found some pretext to take him off. Garruca could not goe on with this discourse, for divers of the Pyrats entring into Bajazets chamber, and telling him that they had unshipped and stowed all the riches they found in the Spanish shippes in their Magazines, presen­ted him an Inventory of them. After he had seene it he lock'd it up, and told the Ro­vers that when they had given the dead the honour they merited in their lives by their brave actions, he would cause the store-houses to be opened, to distribute and partake with the living, that which their valour had given them. The most aged of the Pirats having praysed the justice of Bajazet, told him that all things necessary for the funerals of their companions were ready, and they only waited his command to beginne the Ceremonies: Bajazet would willingly have put it off till the morrow, but loath to displease, he dismissed them with an assurance that within an houre he would come forth of the Cittadell.

The continuance of the adventures of Zelmatida, and Isatida.

I Will, since it is your pleasure, begin my discourse where it was interrupted, and will continue it by the jealousies and suspitions of Hismalita. This Queene had melancho­ly fits and disquietings, which amazed all her Court, and made the wisest avoide all oc­casions of seeing her. She endured not Zelmatida but by constrayning her selfe. Shee sought every day some pretext to be rid of him, and the consideration of this stranger made her to hate her owne blood; she gave to Isatida divers proofes of an anger that was the more to be feared because it was lesse broken out. Whilest this secret hatred crossed the felicity of those innocent Soules, and made them feare all that their amorous imaginations could frame the most horrible and fearfull; Fortune came to assist Love, and by a pranke of her wonted inequalitie, would doe service to virtue, deride the cruell policy of Hismalita, confound all the providence of her Councellors and Divines, and contribute her assistance to the accomplishing of things that had beene so often promised to my deare Master. She corrupted (if I must use that word) those whom the Queene most trusted, that so Zelmatida might be in safety and discover all the designes that they set on foote to destroy him. Many of Hismalitaes domestiques, wonne with the sweetnesse, the courtesie, and the liberality of this Prince, advertis'd him of what was deliberated in their Mistresse cabinet, and beleev'd that to be trusty to her, was to be unfaithfull and traytors to their gods and themselves. Amongst others Galtazis (who in the body of an Infant had the wit of a man, and as very a dwarfe as he was might bee called, not the defect out a miracle of Nature) was the first that gave Zelmatida intelli­gence of the bloody resolutions that Hismalitaes feare made her take against him. This little one had beene given to Isatida when Montezuma conquer'd the Estates of the Cacique of Zampoallan, and presently grew so passionately amorous of the Princesse, that he every day blessed his misfortune and captivity, since through it he had attayned to the glory to be the slave of so faire a Mistresse. Hismalita that almost in all things shewed a jealousie of her daughter had taken him from her, and imagined that by her savours and caresses she might so gaine him that he might serve her for a Spie. But this [Page 64] generous little courage abhorring all basenesse and treachery, continued constant to what he had promis'd Isatida; and had it not beene by the expresse commandment she gave him, to feigne, and make a shew of extreame love to Hismalita, he would ra­ther have died, then done things so contrary to his thoughts. When Zelmatida came to Mexico, Hismalita lov'd nothing more then this dwarfe, and beleev'd him so much hers, that she feard not to discover to him what she had of most secrecy. But hee that knew well on what conditions he gave himselfe to that Queene, judiciously advertised his true Mistrisse of all that most imported her, and by his good Councell, made her to take hold of such occasions to please Hismalita, that the jealous Mother was constray­ned in despite of her selfe, to confesse that Isatida alone gave her more delight and con­solation then all the rest of her daughters. Now this little-one, in all things following the inclinations of Isatida, very often without knowing them, had scarce seene my Lord the Inca, but he lov'd him, and so extraordinarily that he thought him only wor­thy to serve his faire Mistresse. Zelmatida for his part, was extreamly pleased in the conversation of this little-one, and seeing how judicious and faithfull he was, feared not to let him know his affection. Galtazis seeing things happen to his wish, interes­sed himselfe in this Love, and contributed thereto not much lesse then Zelmatida himselfe.

And now, knowing from Hismalita, what feare the presence of this stranger threw on her, and learning some of those predictions on which all those jealousies were founded, he as soone gave my deare Master notice of it, and concealed not from him, that, in the end the Queene infallibly resolved to have him murthered. The dwarfe in­timating thus much, advised him to absent himselfe for a while, and by a necessary flight avoide those cruelties that accompanied the jealousies of Hismalita. But Zelmati­da, embracing Galtazis, and laughing at his feares and councells; My friend (said he) since by a Lawe imposed on nature, all things must have an end, O how happy am I, to have met with so faire an occasion to perish in! I shall not die of a vulgar death, but shall have this advantage over all other men, that my death shall beget an envy in all those that can lay a claime to any generositie. Galtazis knowing the great spirit of Zelmatida, I confesse (said he) that you are worthy to se [...] my faire Mistresse. Goe on invincible Prince and feare not but the gods will turn away those disasters that threaten you. This little-one, after he had thus confirmed my deare Master in his resolution, left him, and went certainly to make it known to Isatida. The Inca having now thanked the Sunne, to whom he had a particular devotion, though he knew not yet that he was the Author of his Race, bethought how to gaine Hismalita by some eminent service for feare to lose Isatida. Yet among these different cares, he forgot not to bethink him­selfe that Quasmez asked his daughter from him, and accused him for not being enough gratefull to him; He therefore sought out Isatida with an intent to speake to her yet once more for Xaira; but the Princesse [...]ut him off the displeasure of petitioning twice for one thing. For as soone as she could with freedome speake to him. I am to give you an account (said she) of the matter you intrusted me withall. I have enquired after the Princesse which you seeke with so much passion, and perceiving that my Governesse made some difficulty to speake to me. I did often times by embraces woe her to tell me if she had heard any thing spoken of Xaira. Whilest I sollicited her with so much ear­nestnesse, she used such actions as made me beleeve she went about to discover some great secrets to me; for on the suddaine, she changed countenance, and so great a trem­bling seized her, that she was a long time before she could answere me. At last she recollected her selfe, and swore to me that she had never seene the Princesse X [...]ira. But as if she beleeved that her oathes were not sufficient to make me credit it, she accom­panied them with so many sighes and teares and other signes of affliction, that but for you, I should have repented the asking her the question. Yet Zelmatida let not this make you despaire; you are assured even by the mouth of a Prophet that Xaira is living, you are expresly come into this country to free her from prison, you are he who infallibly must give her liberty; let time then agitate and the superiour causes, and thinke not that the wills of the gods eyther advance themselves or recoyle as it pleaseth the fanta­sticallnesse of our vowes. The king perswaded by Isatidaes reasons, admired the power [Page 65] of her wit, and became daily so idolatrous of it, that it is not a small signe of his excel­lent nature, that in so generall forgetfulnesse of himselfe, he constantly remembred how much he was oblieged to Quasmez. Some fewe dayes after this conversation which had caused Hismalita to lose the rest of her complying, or rather of her dissimu­lation, she received two generall intelligences equally sad and deplorable, which made her betake her selfe to other thoughts then how to be avenged of my deare Master; The posts that came in hourely, reported news that Montezumas was eyther killed or at least taken prisoner in the towne of Tevich, and that the Cacique Coatelicamat ac­companied with those of Zusolia and of Tlamacolapan and many other Provinces, were comming with an army of two hundred thousand combatants to besiege Mexico.

This unexpected insurrection, for which they were unprepared because it was ne­ver dreaded, joyned with the death or prison of Montezuma spread such a feare in all the spirits of the Court, that Hismalita giving way to this first fright was at the point to abandon Mexico and to retire her selfe to Vacipale. In this extreamity they were forced to have recouse to Zelmatida whom the Mexicans called the eye of Vitcilopuchtli, which is the God of providence, and the right arme of Tezcatlipuca which is the God of battailes. In effect they looked on him as a God, where the power of all the two thousand they adored was enclosed; and when he went through the streets, men by Troopes followed him; and Mothers shewing him to their children, threw into those innocent soules the seeds of adoration and love. Hismalita who by a weaknesse very ordinary in the most part of Princes, put off her passions according as was councelled, and had not love nor hatred but what her Ministers inspired withall her insensible na­ture, put off to another time all that her hatred had intended, and fitted herselfe to de­ceive Zelmatida by faire apearances. You might have seene her then instantly altered, and from fierce and insupportible as she had alwaies been to him, she becam eso com­plying and submisse, that my Lord the Inca hath since confessed to me that he pittied so shamefull a weakenesse, at the first councell she held, after the newes of the impri­sonment of the King her husband and the inroades of her enemies, she sent for Zelmati­da and intreated him to be present. He obeyed her, to witnesse to Isatida, that in what­soever concerned her, he would neither finde backwardnesse nor difficulty. As soone as he was in the Councell Chamber, and that he saw Hismalita attended on by so many men of state, he made shew by his action that he was ready to execute all that they plea­sed to command him. Hismalita called him forward gave him an honourable place, was a long time in commending his valour, and rendred him new thanks for his services done to Mexico. Then she enlarged herselfe on the hopes they all had of him; and speaking of his age with admiration, told him that Tescatlipuca had not endowed him with such rare qualities to have them as it were concealed in vulgar occasions. That he was infallibly destinated for great executions; and though he were very young they were obliged to beleeve that he had no lesse wisedome then courage: And that she therefore conjured him, in case that Mexico were beleagured, to command those war­riers which she should chuse for her defence, and to make appeare in the publique con­servation, the same valour which he had shewed in that of some particulars. That in re­compence she promised him not only in her owne name but in that of Montezuma and his successors, all the share that he would desire in their fortunes. Zelmatida retaining till this occasion that wisdome which seemed to be borne with him, answered the Queen that the honour to serve her was an advantage for whose acquisition there was nought which a man of heart should not undertake. That he would accept it with an extreame contentment, but that he humbly besought her to dispence with him for the employ­ment she would use him, since he had neither experience nor other partes which were necessary for so great a charge. All the Assembly was much satisfied with the modesty of this answer, and thought it fit to resolve of nothing that day, but that they should meet againe the next morrow to conclude all things. The next day then, was the great Councell held. Hismalita and the old Princesse which could not follow Montezuma were present, and after divers contestations, the Queen not only partaged the affaires of the warre, and the leading of the Troopes, amongst six of the most experienced Cap­taines [Page 66] that were about her; but also (for all the resistance my deare Master could make) shed eclared him Generall as well within as without the Towne. When he saw there was no apearance of gainesaying what was resolved; I'le obey (said he to Hismalita) since tis your pleasure, but on condition, that I undertake nothing till I have consulted with those that are more experienced and wiser then my selfe. The old Mexican Princes, that were naturally proud and by the merit of their actions, found themselves much pleased with the Kings Declaration, and assured Hismalita, that she might rest herselfe in quiet, and contemne the descent of a small number of seditious persons: His­malita was easily perswaded; and after she had received Zelmatida's oath went out of the Councell with him, and to establish him in his command, made him to be carried through all the City, with the same magnificence, they were wont to carry their Kings on the daies of their triumphes. This necessary and troublesome ceremony being done, my Lord the Inca shut himselfe in private withall those of command under his charge. Presently he got made the description of all the Kingdome of Montezuma and the Ter­ritory of Mexico. Then he desired to know the places already possessed by the Rebells, and those they were to come by. When they had made kno wne to him all this, he in­formed himself of the number of Souldiers, of the quantity of ammunition and of the for­tifications of the Towne. He put off till the morrow the mustring of his men of warre, gave command to one of his Livetenants to visit all the publique Magazins, and to send to all particular houses to see what provisions they had. Hismalita the while, and the same day, went about to see the defects and the advantages of Mexico; and from that morning set them on worke every where with so much diligence, that he made the Towne capable to sustaine a siedge of two yeeres. During all these great businesse, he forgot nothing of that which a perfect Lover owes to her he affecteth. He saw Isatida punctually twice in a day, and saw her with so much the lesse nicety, because he feared not Hismalita's Eunuques. The kinde wellcomes he received from the Princesse and the teares with which she confirmed her innocent and true affection, gave him a courage able to have conqueted the whole world. There is no doubt (said he) but that the gods take pleasure to heare the vowes which are just. I have often praied them for some oc­casion to expose my life for your service, and to deserve some way a commendation from your mouth: They have heard my prayers; and the rebellion of your Subjects, in not so much a signe of their hatred to you, as it is to me a proofe of that love Heaven beares me, Tis in your mame Isatida that I undertake an employment far above my abi­lities. But all shall be possible whilst I have your protection and assistance. Confirme there the honour which the Queene your Mother hath done me, and be good enough to perswade your selfe that I will acquit my selfe worthily of the charge that is imposed upon me. If you beleeve thus much you will oblige me to lose that ill opinion I have of my selfe, and by that happy deceipt, you will make me like those who transported by the force of their imagination, have alone gotten battells, and made their way through ruine it selfe. Whilst Zelmatida spoke thus affectionately, Isatida looked on him her eyes halfe shut, and unable to answer, she being so neere touched, stood, as one that was nei­ther halfe awake nor well asleepe. At last she came to her selfe, and seeing my deare Master at her feet, conjured him to have more reason then her selfe. After these few words she held her peace, and was yet sometime silent. But when she could speake indeed, she made it well appeare by her discourse, that the truest love is accompanied with feare, She imagined difficulties which could not betide her otherwise then by the apprehension of those dangers to which she saw her lover exposed. After that love had expressed all that hath, of tendernesse, feare and disquiet; Reason became Mistris, and shewed Isatida how far her councells and feares were unjust: She condescended to these remonstrances, and was constrained by her good disposition not only to consent to what the King desired of her, but oftentimes to entreate him to forget what was passed, and to be yet once more the Defender of the empire of Montezuma. Zelmatida that knew very well how to husband with a great deale of discretion, the wit and favour of Isatida, and who, for her sake feared so much, that most commonly he avaided the oc­casions of entertaining her and beleeved that he ought no more to wrong her facility. He therefore retired, and twas well he did so, for he was no sooner in his lodging, but [Page 67] Hismalita sent for him. He went to the Pallace, and understood that the Quene was re­tired into her Cabinet with the chiefe of her Councell. There was order left for his en­trance, and that was the cause he attended not at the doore. As soone as Hismalita saw him, she arose to receive him, and seating him in a chaire next below her owne: Tis fit (said she) that we make you a partner of the ill newes which are newly brought me, and that by the Picture which the King my Lord hath sent me, you should know the deplora­ble estate into which his great heart and unfaithfull fortune have precipitated him. Pray­sed be the gods, he is not dead as I feared, but the perfidious Tyrant of Thevic detaines him prisoner, and so unworthily useth him, that as I understand by his posts, he wisheth himselfe a thousand times in a day in the stately Tombe that he hath caused to be built for the glory of those Monarques from whom he is descended. His cruell enemy threa­tens him continually with death, and to make it more full of griefe and infamous, he thinks to bring him to the spacious towne place of Mexico, and to execute him in the sight of his wife and children. But wretched and unfortunate Hismalita! thine eyes shall never behold this horrible spectacle, or thine armes shall not be strong enough to pluck thee from so sad a destiny.

After a showre of teares shed by the Queene in ending this complaint, abode a while in silence and her eyes shut, at last she opened them, and extending her hands to Zel­matida; deare stranger (said she) or rather some visible god that art descended from hea­ven for the safety of Mexico, be favorable to my just prayers, hearken to those of all my Subjects, looke on the fetters and bondage of Montezuma! and suffer not the im­pious Coatelicamat (confidering his powerfull offences) to have cause to confirme him­selfe in his abhominable intentions. Goe on with your weapons drawne, to meete this Monster, make him to feele the weight of that arme under which the mighty Gy­ant Popocampecho fell, and by the like stroake avenge a wife unjustly persecuted, a­venge those children whose innocence would make the most barbarous to relent, a­venge millions of Soules which are guiltlefly tormented, and avenge the gods in a­venging your selfe; Zelmatida blushing at the flattery and impiety of the Queene, was twice or thrice about to answere, but judging it a crime to contest with them, he tooke another Subject to talke to her, and comforted her for the imprisonment of Montezu­ma, in promising to expose his life for his delivery. I accept of all your offers (replyed Hismalita) and feele from them I know not what hope that seemes to assure me of the returne of my prosperities. But bethinke you as well of your owne conservation as of ours; beleeve lesse to your courage then judgement; execute not that by your selfe, which your Souldiers may performe, and lose not us by your too much hazarding your selfe. There is no danger to be run (answered Zelmatida) when a good cause is defen­ded and that Justice goes along with our armes. The disloyall Coatelicamat shall feele that remorse and those terrors wherewith traytors are tortured, and his unfortunate end shall be an eternall and most fearfull warning to all Rebells, to keepe those Lawes in­violable which the gods have ordayned them. This discourse ended Zelmatida and some of the Mexican Princes went forth from the Queene, and resolved that instantly they should advance to meete the rebells. The two or three next dayes were imployed in the viewing and mustering of the Troopes, and the king found that he had above a hundred thousand men. Of those he left part for the guard of the City, and as soone as he had taken leave of Isatida, marched out of Mexico, with all the presages that might assure him of the victory.

After he had put his Army in batalia beyond the lake, he tooke the way of Culhua­can, which is foure miles from Mexico, and sent forerunners to learne newes of the e­nemy, and knew at their returne, that the Rebells marched as men that knew how to make warre, and that on the hearing that they were come out of Mexico, their vant­guards had entrenched themselves in a village, whence it was very hard to force them. Zelmatida, very glad of this news, kept on his way, and made his men march day and night. Some Thevician Couriers came to meete him, and began light skirmishes. The Inca caused them to be undertaken, to the end to advance his troopes the most he could when he came to certaine Hillocks which covered the bourg, he encamped, and advi­sed to lodge there all night. At day breake he resolved to force the enemy, and therfoe [Page 68] chose out of his Army ten thousand of his best men, and of them composed five batali­ons, which he led himselfe, where he intended they should fight, and after he had gi­ven such order every where, that it was hard if the onset thrived not, he made all to fall on at the same time. Those which were led by Zelmatida, willing to make appeare their deserts, mastered the intrenchment, forced the barricadoes, and though they de­fended themselves very well within the Bourg, yet at last they became Masters of it. They flew all that had not time or cowardise enough to save themselves by flight. This first exploit, succeeding so happily; Zelmatida, thought it fit to pursue the enemy. All his Troopes were resolute on it, when there came news from Hismalita, by which my deare Master understood that the Cacique of Zempoallan was within a little journey of Mexico, with above thirty thousand men: Hereupon he assembled the Councell of war, to know what was expedient to be done. There were divers opinions, but upon the intelligence received that the Cacique of Thevic, and five other Princes were but a daies journey thence, and came with above foure hundred thousand combatants, they made Zelmatida resolve to retire, and to goe and oppose that inundation which came by the way of Zempoallan. The next day, at day breake the army dislodged from the bourg, except foure thousand men, which Zelmatida left there to amuse the Enemy. But the Mexicans, who for the most part are heartlesse, and who fight not but when they are assured by their great number; no sooner saw the Theviciens but they forsooke the bourg, and came to seeke their safety in the grosse of the Army. By this Zelmatida un­derstood the defect of his troopes; and changing his first Councell, intended to under­take nothing that should be difficult with a people that obeyed not very well, and fought a great deale worse. Well then imagine him encamped on the side of the lake, in a great plaine, that on the North hath the towne of Culhuacan, on the South, that of Iz­tacpalam, on the East that of Mexico, and on the West that of Tlacopan. Having lodg­ed his Army in places so advantageous, and made good all eminenties that might annoy his enemies, he came to Hismalita, and stayed not longer then he was enforced to take new commands, and consult of a meanes to hinder the joyning of the troopes of Zem­poallan with those of Thevic. This done he visited Isatida, and seeing her in an afflicti­on that could not be augmented: Madam (said he) I intend not to condemn your sor­rowes, since that nature and reason it selfe cannot give you more just ones. But if the desire to serve you deceive me not, and did not make me hope for more then I ought, assure your selfe that you shall yet see the King your father on his Throne, and all those enemies that from all parts come to pillage this brave City, shall be soone sacrificed to those teares which their perfidiousnesse hath caused to fall from you. Isatida could not answere my deare Master, but speaking to him with her eyes, which all dying as they were, were yet capable to revive him; she made him know that the imprisonment of the King, nor the debordment of their enemies was not solely the cause of her affli­ctions.

Zelmatida was constrained to leave her sooner then he intended, and to get him a­gaine to his Army, which aff [...]ighted at the comming of the Theviciens, would have for­saken the field and retyred into Mexico. But the Princes arrivall confirmed and retain'd them in some order. Presently he went to descry the enemy, and unwilling to give them time to lodge presented them battell. This boldnesse did not alone astonish the Theviciens but withall gave a terror to the Mexicans. But the last tooke heart by the beliefe they had that Zelmatida was a god to whom nothing was impossible, and the worst Souldier amongst them, animated by the Prince his presence, made himselfe be­leeve that he was become extreamly valiant. When the Inca perceived all that multi­tude prepared to fight, he would needs hearten them to it, and an oration fitted to the humour and spirit of all that were there, perswaded them that there were no forces able to resist them. The Cacique of Thevic, carried away by the unruly notions which the [...]ge to reigne gives the amoitious, made his Army march to meete with that of Mexico. As soone as they were in that case, that they could not goe off, but must fall to handy blowes; Zelmatida made his first troopes give on, but they found such a resistance, that they began to give back, when he sent others to assist them. Wheresoever Zelmatida appeared, the Theviciens were defeated, but every where else they were masters, and [Page 69] knew so well how to presse the Mexicans, that without the conduct and valour of Zel­matida they had beene all cut in peeces. He endured the shock of three or foure thou­sand men, slew the Cacique of Themocolapan, and made so glorious a retreate, that in the judgement of the very enemy, it went for a victory. See in what manner the The­viciens remained masters of the field, and block'd up Mexico by Land and Water. Eve­ry day the king made sallies, wherein his prudence and valour going hand in hand crowned him with the more glorious palmes, by how much he had the worst Souldiers, and fought with the best and in great number. Hismalita was not in a little trouble to see the cowardize of her Souldiers, and knew not what way to witnesse how much she was oblieged to Zelmatida; but being dextrous and crafty, she thought she could not more powerfully winne my deare Master then by giving him the meanes to see and entertaine Isatida. This conjecture being confirmed by her confidents, she notedly increased her former affection to the Princesse, and tooke more care then ordinary to discourse and to have her in her company. She even some time made her to be dressed before her, and desiring that she should be alwaies richly attyred, caused to be made for her both roabes and dressings of such value and so artificially wrought, that the fea­thers, if they did not therein contest for the prize, yet did they for their well suting with the Dyamonds and Pearles. Zelmatida enjoyed all these felicities; and knowing Hismalitaes intention, bethought him to make the Seige last long, that his good fortune might be the longer lasting. He forgot not for all that any thing that could give him the name of a great Captaine, and not hazarding but when 'twas, to good purpose neyther himself nor his troopes, wearying the enemy, and made them repent of their enterprize. He from time to time also proposed to Hismalita divers waies of finishing the seige, and advised her to joyne the Inhabitants of Mexico with the men of warre, to force the E­nemy and make him resolve on a battell. But the Queene that would not hazard any thing before she had heard news of Montezuma, conjur'd him to suspend this good de­signe, and attend the succours which would infallibly be sent her from those Provinces which were not revolted. The King easily consented to it, and blessing in himselfe the blindnesse of Hismalita, was ravished to see that his fearefull Enemy, seemed to af­fect the occasions that might please him. Now, one day being with her, there came one to signifie to him, that there was at the Gate a man sent from the Cacique of The­vic that desired to speake with him. Zelmatida, that would not in the presence of the Queene make use of his authority of Generall, intreated her permission for the entrance of the Thevicien. Hismalita, who in this novelty imagined to her selfe some overture of peace, was willing to see him. Zelmatida therefore sent two of his guard to receive him, and to conduct him to the Pallace. Streight after he came and was presented to the Queene.

As soone as he had made his entry, with incivility enough, he demanded leave to deliver his charge, and that he might see him who commanded the men of warre. His­malita shewing him my deare Master; See (said she) the Man you seeke. At that word Isatida changed colour, and if all the company had not beene attentive to the Herald, no doubt at that time the change of her countenance had discovered the secret of her heart. This while Zelmatida came neere the man, and told him that he might speake boldly, since the Queene did him the honour to thinke it fit; the other told him he was sent by Accapouzalco, Cacique of the rich City Xochmilco, and Soveraigne of the mynes of gold, and of the lake of delights, to defie ten of the most valiant men that were among the Mexicans. The king tooke pleasure in the boldnesse of this Barbarian; and how many (said he) will this invincible man have with him? My Prince (replyed the Souldier) makes too little esteeme of men, to make any account of their assistance; he alwaies fights alone, and alone carries the victory. He will have no more seconds in this little occasion then he hath had in the greatest; and conjures thee, if thou be as brave a man as thou art reputed, that thou wilt make one, and choose to thy selfe a­mong thy friends ten, nay twenty which are worthy to assist thee in this combat. Zel­matida began to laugh at this proposition, and was a long while ere he could get the Queenes good will to accept of the challenge; at last he had it, and sent back the He­rauld with an assurance that the next day he would be without the towne with his [Page 70] friends, to give his Master a little exercise. Imagine into what trouble and perplexity those words out Isatida, and what disquiets she underwent all the rest of the day. As long as she was with the Queen, she was in those anxieties and constraints as are ima­ginable. she looked on Zelmatida with eyes that witnessed at once both her anger and feare.

The close of the day was the end of that torture; she withdrew into her owne lod­gings as soone as she was permitted, and began to figh at liberty. Oftentimes she accu­sed my deare Master that he loved her not, since he feared not to displease her, and sought without her permission occasions to lose himselfe. He left her not long in this ill humour, but came to her as soone as he had left Hismalita. When he saw how coldly she intertained him, and by a serious aspect intimated how much she was displea­sed; he came neere her with a great deale of submission, and witnessing his feare to her; shall I (said he) be enough unhappy to have brought you to doubt of my respect or my faith? I confesse I have somewhat enlarged my selfe beyond the boundes of my servitude, but Isatida what language would you have used to your slave, and with what face durst he to have presented himselfe before you, if he had refused so faire an occasion to serve you. The Princesse that could not be angry with a person in whom she discove­red dayly more signes of love, respect and generosity; I will not (said she) treate you so rudely as your disobedience deserves; and I forget (for this time) the boldnesse that you have taken to dispose of your selfe without my consent, and am not angry that you have met with so faire a Subject to make you yet so considerable. But I permit you not this combate but on condition that you undertake it with ten of your friends; and more, if my prayers be heard, that is, if you returne victorious, I command you upon paine to run the hazard of my indignation, not to engage your selfe ever in any dangerous enter­prise till you have advertised me of it, that I may see whether I ought to permit you to put in execution. Zelmatida (answered) that since he had the honour to see and to tender her his service and liberty: He had relinquished and put off all power on him­selfe, and reserved only that which was to serve her eternally. Be pleased then to be­leeve that I will never undertake any thing without your permission. Nor had I accep­ted the defiance of Accapovealco, if on the suddaine when I cast mine eyes on yours, I had not knowne that you gave me your consent, and that your all-generous soule gran­ted me secretly a favour, which was not permitted to be asked you. But Isatida, give o­ver these troublous objects, and reflect on my new felicities. Doe you not admire the goodnesse of Hismalita, and the affection that she shews me even in those things where­in I still thought to have found her my enemy? The Princesse made well knowne by her answer that she was not accorded with my deare Master, and a little casting down her eyes; Zelmatida (said she) you have your weakenesse as well as other men. You beleeve with too much facility those things which you desire with so much passion. The favours which you receive are too great not to be suspected. I know Hismalita, and finde that she hath done too much to perswade my selfe that she will follow her now inclination. Feare may be hinders me from judging aright, and tis possible I may wrong the best Princesse of the world; but you Zelmatida are the cause of it; see then if I have not subject enough to hate you, since that for your sake, I live not as I ought, & that by little and little I become unnaturall to make me seeme good. Our Lovers spent most part of the night in this conversation. Isatida in dismissing Zelmatida told him that he ought to leave to him that doth all with justice the ordering of things to come, and to expect from his goodnesse such events as should be worthy him. In the meane while he should retire to take that rest whereto the combate he was to undertake the next day obliged him, and that he might assure himselfe that either her prayers should not be heard, or else be very advantageous to him. Zelmatida that used to obey the Princesse without long consideration or delay, gave her the good night, and so went to his bed. By day breake he was up, and had already walked above two houres in a gar­den into which opened the windowes of Isatida's chamber, when one of the principall Officers belonging to Hismalita came and told him that the Queen desired his presence. He went to her, and she found him with the same assured conntenance that she had seen he daies before; and admiting in her selfe the great heart of the Prince, grew angry [Page 71] with her selfe to have as many causes to hate him as she had to love him; she had a minde to entertaine him, but that one came and related that the Gyant had been twice already even at the gates of the towne. This news was the cause that joy and sadnesse dividing mens mindes, represented to some Zelmatida victorious over the Gyant, and to others the Gyant triumphing over Zelmatida. But he that thought on nothing but of doing acts worthy his love, left the Queene, and comming into the chamber of Isati­da, found her all in teares. He besought her to ratifie the permission which she had given him, and not beleeve his enemy to be invincible. I know (said she) why you use this language to me: No, no, I doe not thinke the Gyant invincible, yet have I not­withstanding, a thousand reasons to be afflicted. The perill to which you are going to expose your selfe, would obliege me to it (I say) were you a person but indifferent to me; since for my sake only you are engaged in this combat, and by consequence in spite of my selfe become guilty of your death, if it happen that the chance of warre give the advantage to your Enemy.

Indeede knowing your courage, and having heard related so many marvels of it, I should have cause not to apprehend the event of this duell if all things were equall. But when I consider that you goe to contend with a Monster, as tall againe as your selfe, I cannot receive those reasons that perswade me that I doe you wrong to have you feare him. My Lord the Inca, by these words felt himselfe bound in new chaines, and with­out daring to take the boldnesse to aske from the Princesse the least favour in the world, told her that before night she should be oblieged to prayse him, alive or dead. Whilest Isatida betooke her selfe to her prayers with her Governesse and dwarfe, Zelmatida went to take his armes, and accompanied with one only Squire went out of Mexico, and came to the causey where the Gyant stayed for him. The walls of the City were ranged with men and women, to see by the successe of this combat what the fortune would be both generall and particular. The lake was covered with Canoas and other vessells full of Theviciens; and the place where Zelmatida was to fight, was a square expresly made on the great causeway, for a corps du guard, and in case of necessitie to serve for a place of defence, and to fight with those that after they had gotten the cause­way would enter into the towne. Zelmatida appeared there, rather armed for the try­umph then for the combat. He wore a head peece covered with a great many feathers, which came on his shoulders and covered part of his face. His armes were halfe naked, and for all defensive armour had only a Cuirasse of quilted cotton, and a buckler of gold, on which to signifie the extremity of his love, he had caused to be painted the mountain Popocampecho, all on fire, and round about the buckler these words engraven: My heart preserves all his owne. He had a quiver full of arrowes, a bowe hanging as a scarfe, and two long Javelins, armed at the ends with golden pikes. For the Gyant he was more extravagantly covered, and more advantageously too. He had the whole skin of a very great Tyger; the muzell of the beast served him for his head-peece, and the rest, tyed in five or sixe places, was for a good Cuirasse. He wore a bowe and ar­rowes and a great club. As soone as he saw Zelmatida within shot of his arrowes, he shot two at him that had pierced him through and through, if he had not dextrously a­voided them. My deare Master in comming neerer, darted at him one of his Jave [...]ns, but it rested hanging in the skin of the beast that armed the Gyant, and could not wou [...]d him. He knew then that fighting after this manner, he should not make an end of his enemy; he therefore came close up, and passing upon him, thrust the halfe of his Jave­lin into his right thighe, and by that would tooke away his strength of upholding him­self. The Gyant retyred to be reveng'd, and to brayne his adversary with one only blowe; but his rage taking away his judgement, and my deare Master returning upon him, ran him through the second time. The paine of this new wound, made the mon­ster foame; and he threw himselfe on Zelmatida to have stifled him in his armes, and cast out his left hand to have catched him by the hayre, but the Inca avoiding his hold­pierced his arme, and left the Javelyn in the wound. This great wound made the Gy­ant mad: he threw his club away, and uncovering all his body, cast himselfe on his e­nemy. Zelmatida seeing so faire an occasion, tooke his [...]owe and let fly an arrow, which passing under the Gyants left arme (which was then lifted up) stroake him right at the heart.

[Page 72] With this the Monster gave a great cry, and catching his vanquisher in his armes, bore him to ground with him; he fell on one side, and Zelmatida on the other, so un­happily, that meeting the head of an arrowe he gave himselfe a deepe wound: the Gyant died presently, and by his death strooke so strange a terror into the hearts both of the Thevic's and Zempoallan's Army, that had the Mexicans beene men of valour, there is no doubt but that very day they had given end to a Seige which began to make them practise by force that sobrietie which is naturall to them. As soone as they had stynched the blood that Zelmatida lost by his wounds, he returned into Mexico, with all the pompe that so great an action could be attended. He was not only admired of Hismali­ta and of all the Court, but his enemies themselves were forced to acknowledge that whilest he defended Mexico they had little hope of taking it. In the City they spoake more advantageously. The people blessed the day in which that valiant defender came thither, and from the defeate of one sole enemy, promising to themselves the like of three or foure hundred thousand more; foolishly called on to the fight those whom they durst not see, but from the top of their walls. As soone as Hismalita heard the successe of the combat, she made shew of an excesse of joy, which makes me say, that the in­comparable power of the virtue of my Master, overcame the ill nature of that Queene, and made her capeable of a good action. That which makes me thinke so, is, that he was received with an extraordinary freedome, and that all the evening she spoake of nothing but his victory, but cry up often times in exaggerating the generositie with which Zelmatida would overcome his Enemy. Let us leave here (if you please) the vulgar resentments, and entertaine our selves a little with those of Isatida. Though the Queene her mother knew she was not well, yet had she not the patience to have her absent, but sent an absolute command that she should dresse her; that nothing of sad­nesse might be intermingled with the publique rejoycing. Isatida came where she was expected, but at her entry they might perceive in her lookes such a kinde of coldnesse, that she had beene generally condemned if the pretext of her sicknesse had not repressed the indiscreete zeale and reproaches of all the people. She never cast an eye on her victorious servant, and by that entertainment so little expected, taught him a faire les­son of that humility of minde, wherewith we should receive those disgraces that betide us, then, when we thinke we have least deserved them. He was much troubled at it, and detesting all the honors they did him, put this day into the number of the most unfor­tunate in his life

Presently he called to minde all that he had done, nay all that he had thought on since he left the Princesse. And seeing that the witnesses of his Conscience set his minde at rest, he tooke this indifferency of Isatida as a remedy which she had found to allay that vanity which possibly so many happy fortunes joyned together might have caused in him. As soone as Hismalita was retyred, Isatida that tooke notice of her servants dis­content, sent him word by Galtazis, that she desired his company to her chamber, that she might know from him that which her indisposition had not suffered her to behold. Zelmatidaes heart leapt at this welcome command, and was so transported with it, that his wound opened, and notwithstanding all that they could apply to it, bled such a great quantity of blood, that the Princesse tooke notice of it, and grew as pale and feeble as if her owne blood had run from the wound of my deare Master. He came neer her, and taking her by the arme to assist her; You see (said he) how my heart it selfe gives you a testimony of its fidelity. It hath alwaies feared, that my words were by you suspected, and that you doubted of the assurances which my mouth for its part gave you. It knowes that it is an interpreter artificiall and cryed downe, and that all ages have attainted it of treason and flashood. It is long since too, that it hath stroven by all meanes to make it selfe knowne to you. At last Fortune is come to his ayde, and facili­tating things which seemed impossible, hath given it that which it could not obtayne from nature. 'Tis (faire Isatida) that it speakes by my wound, and the drops of blood that fall thence, are so many words by which it makes knowne to you its infinite love; and protests that my mouth hath said nothing to you till my heart had given it a most ex­presse commandement. Isatida, comming to her selfe, whilest my deare Master spoake to her thus passionately, could no longer hold that little anger, which she had resolved [Page 73] he should undergoe. I must confesse (said he) that you have a great power over our m [...]des; surely, we sh ould not thinke it strange that you overcome Giants, since you shew your selfe of suffi ci ency to vanquish that which is naturally invincible. Triumph then (Zelmatida) since you deserve it, triumph over my choler, as well as of the second Popocampecho. But be not like those unfortunate Conquerors that have found their grave in their triumphant Chariot. Goe, thinke on your woundes, and when you are in case to be seene, I will tell you the cause of my anger: In the meane time I command you to feare it no more; it is now as unable to hurt you as the Giant you have over­come. My deare Master would needs perswade Isatida that his wounde was nothing, not considerable; But as soone as the Princesse opened her lips to repeate the com­mandment she had given him, he obeyed according as was accustomed; and that sepe­ration was an ill farre more sensible then that he had received in his combate. After his being in his Chamber, they closed his wounde, and though indeed it was but little, yet for all that it incommodated him extreamely. The next morning he came forth, and had almost the whole daies liberty to see Isatida. He besought her a thousand times to tell him the cause of her anger. You beleeve (said the Princesse to him) that I have no cause to complaine; But know that I have subject enough, since against my command and your promise, you have not feared to hazard that which is mine, and to fight alone against a Monster, who thought himselfe strong enough to defeate a whole Army.

My deare Master seeing the pleasing indignation of the Princesse, shall I beleeve (said he) that any thought of me could at any time possesse a minde so much divine as yours? Certainely though hitherto I have found goodnesses in you which are no where else seene: Yet did I not imagine them so infinite that they could extend to the care of my preservation. But I know whence this tendernesse comes. You looke on me as the worke of your owne hands, and would retard my losse, since you beleeve that your power would suffer some diminution, if you should suffer to perish the least thing that is if it bore any marke of yours. This nimblenesse of wit (answered Isatida) where­with you put off any thing that might hurt you, hinders not me yet from being offended▪ and that I beleeve not, but you esteeme litle of my friendship since you make no more difficulty to put me into a perplexity. I know what you can say to justifie your action, and will not give so much to my fancy, but I will give more to your considerations. Therefore I forget what is past and looke no more on your last actions, but on that side where they are to you most glorious and honorable; But if ever it happen that you neg­lect my intreaties, and doe not tie your selfe scrupulou [...]ly to those necessities I shall en­joyne you; know, that I shall not be alwaies good, and that I shall have power enough over my selfe, to take from you those favours which by you shall be neglected. This conv [...]rse had lasted longer, but an extraordinary noise arising about the Pallace, enga­ged Zelmatida to preferre the safety of strangers before his owne. He ran where the clamour and confusion was greatest, and saw that on all [...]ands the Mexicans fled, and ran into the Towne with an incredible terrour and disorder. He stopped these Runa­waies, and suffring himselfe to be transported with the just anger that so generall a co­wardize had lightned in his soule: Have you resolved (cried [...]e to them) to deliver your selves, your Wives and Children to the fury of your enemies. Must the pro [...]d and triumphant Mexico, which neither feares the force nor the subtleties of so many people banded against her, be this day turned into ashes, by the infamous treachery of [...] Inhabitants? What a shame is it yee Mexicans? You call the Rebells within y [...]ur [...] ▪ and abandoning to them all your entrances, signifie to your Queene that [...] in­telligence with the Theviciens and beare a part in their disloyall [...]volt. [...] words had so great a power on these timerous soules, that they were streigh [...] fac [...]s [...] and following Zelmatida, cast themselves furiously on the Caussey. The The viciens tha [...] had gotten it, were forced to quit it, and retire into their Campe after they had [...] twenty thousand men on the Lake and the cause way. Zelmatida thought himselfe [...] sufficiently revenged: He therefore the night following made a sally on the [...] of Zempoallan, and surprising them, fell on so fiercely, that the Cacique and three of [...] Sonnes were there slaine and above thirty thousand men with them. The rest [...] terrified forsooke their entrenchments, and being no longer staied by the [...] [Page 74] of their Commanders, fled confusedly even to the Frontires of Zempoallan. The Caci­que of Thevic failed not the next day to make shew of more then foure thousand boates on the Lake, in the least of which there were foure men, and with them encompassing two third parts of the Towne, caused a generall affault to be given. It was then, that the Mexicans; thought themselves lost; but Zelmatida having bin (as a man might say) e­very where at the same instant sustained the affault more by the greatnesse of his courage thē the mumber of Mexicans; & repuls'd the Theviciens with as litle advantage as they had gotten in all their former fights. This glorious day giving an absolute terror to the besieg­ers, gave rest to the besieged. Both sides for two daies were quiet and undertooke nothing. Z [...]lmatida gave all that time to his passion, and being scarce absent from his faire Prin­cesse; t [...]ied by his generous promises to free her from the feares which the King her Fathers imprisonment threw on her.

Doe me the honour to beleeve (said he) that the Cacique of Thevic will not trench on the life of Montezuma, and chiefely in a time when the ill successe of his affaires threatens him with an approching ruin. If he be wise, he will not be obstinate in a siedge so disadvantageous to him, and if he be so imprudent to continue it, we shall soone bring him to repent it, so that by one way or other it will behove him to looke to the safety of the King your Father, that it may be a meanes to preserve himselfe; and in re­storing to the King his liberty, by that way may buy both his owne and his peoples free­dome. Isatida, whose love made her easie to be perswaded, beleeved firmely all which Zelmatida told her, and doubted not, but that by his assistance Montezuma might be de­livered from the hands of his enemy. Zelmatida perceiving that the Princesse gave eare to his reasons, and was willing to be comforted, told her, that among so many unfortu­nate as were in the world, he was the man alone that every day saw his hopes to grow lesse and lesse, and that labouring for the safety of another, laboured at the same time for his owne perdition. I must no more doubt (said he) but that my happinesse shall be of no longer continuance then the captivity of Montezuma. His reestablishing shall be my ruine, and the same moment that settles him againe in his Throne shall drive me far off for ever from the happy place where all my felicities are enclosed. Take no heede (said she) of common mishaps, and since tis beneficiall to us to beguile our selves, let us not be more cleere fighted then we have beene hitherto. For the rest, call to minde that in delivering Montezuma and protecting Hismalita you fight for Isatida. If what may be­tide from her be capable to worke on you, assure your selfe, that your paines and tra­vell shall have their reward. These Lovers had continued this pleasing discourse, but that one came to advertise Zelmatida that two Heralds sent by the enemies desired per­mission to see him. He came presently forth and going into the Temple of the god of battells, he there met Hismalita. He intimated to her the comming of two Theviciens, and besought her to heare them. They were streight brought in, and one of them pre­senting a great Role to Hismalita, told her that the Cacique his Soveraigne Lord sent her that Declaration written with the bloud of those that were slaine before Mexico. The Queene who for divers considerations wished for nothing but peace, caused the writing to be unfolded, and commanded one of her Officers to read it. The man having a perfect knowledge and well versed in the Charecters of Thevic, deciphered them thus.

Coatelicamat Cacique of Thevic, Conductor of the outraged Innocents, and perpetuall Enemy of all Tirants. To Hismalita Queene of Mexico, and to the Stran­ger Zelmatida.

GReat injuries exciting great resentments are not satisfied but with extraordinary re venges. The Theviciens and as many other Nations as I lead, oppressed by such as call themselves their Fathers and Defenders have beene constrained to take armes, for their common deliverance and have not feared their owne losse, so they might crush by their proper downfall the cruell authors of their calamities. Heaven hath at this time de­clared it selfe in a cause so just, and the ambitious Montezuma is fallen into that servitude which he prepared for so many free Nations. I hold in my chaines this prodigious ex­ample of the change of Fortune: I make him feele how insupportable that disaster is to serve his enemy, and to be brought to the necessity of undergoing the rigours of a mercilesse Master. But the weight of his fetters, the horror of his dungeon, and his o­ther miseries, are but the beginning of his tortures. I reserve others for him after I have burnt this proud City, the retreat of Monsters that devoure the flesh, and drinke the blood of the poore. In the meane while, since by thy valour, O too much blinded stranger! the punishment of the Mexicans crimes is yet procrastinated, and that I must content my selfe with a part of my vengeance; know, that even to morrow, all the prisoners of most importance, which I have taken with Montezuma, shall be sacrificed to the god of Justice and Liberty, to take them off from the race of men.

Hismalita arose from her seate, and transported with choler, snatched the Roll out of the hands of him that read; she gave it to Zelmatida, and withall, what (said she) will your great courage suffer the royall dignity to be thus troden under foote, or per­mit that seditious persons and traytors dare, unpunished, violate the eternall Lawes by which the gods have established their owne power, in confirming that of Mona [...]s? And in so saying, she tore in peeces the Declaration of the Cacique of Thevic, and [...]ent the two Heralds that had brought it, to be presently hang'd. The Cacique understand­ing the ill successe of his insolent deputation; resolved to deferre no longer to ve [...]ge­ance, which he had so often promised to his complices. To that end he kept them in armes all night, and the next day morning was seene from the top of the walls of Mexi­co, a great Scaffold raised in the middest of the Lake, upon many boates linked to o [...]e a­nother. On one side of the scaffold there was an Altar, on which was an Idoll of g [...]ld, which held a Javelin in his hand; many great [...]aions of gold round about the Alta [...] ▪ and in them, those instruments wherewithall the Mexican Priests did use to open those men that were sacrificed to their gods. When the enemies sawe all the walls of Mexico ranged with men and women, they caused those Priests to mount the Sc [...] which they had chosen for that sad ceremony.

The Priests perfumed the Idoll, and repeated oftentimes the words of Ven [...]ce, Retribution and Liberty. After them were seene some Souldiers, who g [...]ed and brought those that were condemned to their deaths. The first, being at the place desti [...] for execution, was laid on a table, and with an horrible inhumanity, a Priest [...]ke [...] great knife into his left side, and thence drew out his heart; presently he stuck it on the end of a javelin to make it seene the farther off, and after he had so held it a while, gave it to one of his companions. This done, two Souldiers tooke the body and [...] i [...] ­to the lake; twenty men were executed in this manner, and [...] knowi [...]g s [...]e of them, cryed out alas, thus infallibly will these Barbarians put to death all [...] T [...] ­iths (the Mexicans call all their great Lords so) which have beene taken prisone [...] [...] [Page 76] the King. She had scarce ended these words, but she heard a muttering of voices, min­gled with the resounding of trumpets, and presently saw on the scaffold the wretched Montezuma, who clad in his royall habiliments, had his chaines on his legs and hands, and witnessed by his trembling and lamentations, that he was never worthy of that qua­lity which he was now about to lose. At this sight Hismalita growing furious, tore her hayre, plucked in peeces the Diadem she had on her head, and was with much adoe held by the Princes that were about her. What ye Mexicans (cryed she) will you en­dure that the hangman shall lay his abhominable hands on the sacred person of your King, of your visible god? What is become of that faith you swore to him on the Al­tars, and in the presence of the gods? Doe you no more remember that you have ac­knowledged him for your Master, for your Father, for your Life? and at his coronati­on; all falling on the Earth, offered your selves as Sacrifices ready to shed your blood for his preservation? She would have continued her remonstrances, but a new object of griefe, depriving her of understanding as well as speech, put her some time from her selfe; she came againe with being much troubled, and came againe to her more sorrow and anguish; for she sawe foure Priests take Montezuma, and despoyling him of his robes, bound his eyes and layed him along on the same table, where the other prisoners had lost their lives. The excesse of her resentment rendring her speech, Hangman (cry'd she) strike not the King, see mee here ready to receive the blowe, come, come, glut your rage upon the unfortunate Hismalita, and in so saying, she fell as dead among the armes of her women; and fortune would have it so, to the end that that Princesse by the violence of her afflictions should learne to be no more insensible of the misery of o­thers. She was no sooner swounded but the boates of Mexico fell on those of the Thevi­ciens, and during their fight, one man alone forcing his way, in spite of so many ene­mies, ascended the scaffold where Montezuma was ready to be executed; threw five or sixe of the Priests into the lake, overturned the Altar and the Idoll, and unbinding the King of Mexico, changed his scaffold into a theater of tryumph. The Mexicans seeing so glorious a beginning of the enterprise of my Lord the Inca (you may well thinke that any other then he, could not have performed so difficult an action) rushed in on their e­nemies, and fearing no more death, fell on them so vigorously that above a thousand boates, and more then sixe thousand Theviciens [...]nke to the bottome. There were ta­ken of them some foure thousand, who loaden with chaines were throwne into the towne Prisons. Hismalita returning [...]rom her swound, was told that by the wonderfull valour of Zelmatida, the Theviciens were overthrowne on the lake, and Montezuma delivered when he was at the point to receive the stroake of death. The enemies woun­ded and fettered which they drew along the streetes, were sufficient proofes of those victories which she might doubt of; yet imagining that her happinesse was too great to be true, she could not beleeve it till she sawe Zelmatida; who, leading Montezuma by the hand, came to restore to her that other precious halfe of her selfe, and bring againe all those prosperities and glories she had lost. As soone as she had resettled Montezu­ma in his throne, and left him with his Queene and daughters, he departed without saying any thing, and causing the trumpets and other instruments of warre to sound eve­ry where, drew out of the towne all those that were of age sufficient to fight. He made them to be fylde along the causseyes with an extreeme diligence, and put them into batalia in the sight of the enemies. The Cacique of Thevic knew the designe of the be­seiged, and in spite of the terror that the name of Zelmatida gave him, prepared himselfe to fight, and did all that could be expected from a man that was as valiant as he was ambitious. He put his people in order, a [...]d told them, that if they overcame their ene­mies, they went not away with one sole victory, but that there were five or sixe linked one to another. Therefore in winning the battell (said he) your liberty is assured you, your Tyrants become your slaves, all Mexico is conquerd, and our short misfortunes followed by perpetu [...] ▪ [...]elicities. Zelmatida for his part went from batalion to batalion, and according to the diversitie of mindes and countries, changed his tongue and per­swasions. Every one was animated by his owne interest, and the eloquence of this in­vincible Commander. Presently the skyrmishes began, and continued on both sides. At last the grosse of the Army moved, the battalions joyned, and their arrowes gave [Page 77] place to more mortall weapons; I will not make you a particular description of the bat­tell, nor anoy you in remarking what the Mexicans performed. Let us fixe (if you please) on Zelmatida, since 'tis his victory that you would knowe, and not that of his enemies. This Prince then searching out the ambitious Cacique of Thevic among his troopes, was compelled in finding him to come to handy stroakes with many hardy Theviciens, whom he overcame not without much hazarding himselfe. At last, being already all bloody, and weary with so many brunts already sustained, he met with Coatelicamat, that was driving before him a whole batalion of Mexicans. he put himselfe betweene the Runawayes and the Cacique, and comming up to him, his pike in his hand. Ca­cique (said he) this is the day that thou must undergoe the punishmens for thy disloy­altie. The Cacique without being dismayed at the threatning, knew Zelmatida, or at least doubted that twas he. Contrary then to the custome of miscreants, his courage in­creased by the remembrance of his c [...]imes, and the neerenesse of the perill, made him lose the feare of it. He came resolutely to Zelmatida, and Zeimatida received him with an intent not to spare him. The combat was long and furious, but it was reasonable that the justice of heaven should have his ordinary slowenesse to chastise so sam [...] us an offender. Zelmatida which from all times had beene chosen by that incomprehensi [...]le, to perfect this remarkable vengeance, strooke so great a blowe at his Enemy, that he cut off his right arme, and redoubling it as soone, gave him another so great a wound, that that monstrous toy of ambition, fell on the earth, and saw fall with him all his ab­hominable hopes and expectancies. Zelmatida quickly clapt his foote on his bel [...], and ayming his Javelyn at the others throate, repent thee (said he) if thou wilt have me give thee thy life. Coatelicamat, with a constancy as great as his ambition; answered: I will never repent me, since I never doe any thing till it first seeme just to me. For the life that thou promisest me, I laugh at it, for I see it is not in thy power; but if thou wilt doe me any favour, tell me what thou art, and whence thou comest. Zelmatida swore to him that he could not content his curiositie, since he could not tell of what country he was, nor of what parents borne. At that word, Catelicamat lifting up with fury the arme that was left him, as if he would have striken some one; Impostors (cryed he) they are your eyes that have beene the authors of my crimes. You assured me that I should one day see my selfe seated on the throne of Montezuma, if I could escape the thundring arme of the Inca. In saying this last word, he plunged his hand into his wound, and by that violence tore out his Soule that would not yet have abandoned his body.

The death of Coatelicamat was the entyre ruine of all his army. The Mexicans had their wills of them, destroyed them cleerely. They pierced without resistance the great­est batalions, and went on, beating those disordered troopes till late in the night; the flaughter was horrible, and of that prodigious number of men which came to the Seige of Mexico, there was not above fifteene or twenty thousand that saved themselves. Twelve thousand were taken alive and brought into the City to be sacrificed to the gods of the Estate. Zelmatida did his utmost to hinder so great a Massacre, but knowing that he had to doe with Barbarians, who place their pleasure and glory in spilling the blood of their adversaries, he left them and returned into Mexico with two thousand, that remayned of the sixe thousand men whom he had made the [...]roope of his guard. The old men, the women, the children and the Souldiers, that were left behinde for the de­fence of the towne, losing all memory of what they owed to Montezuma, received Zelmatida as their king, and called him the victorious, the father of the people, the de­fender of Mexico, and the only hope of the State. These glorious Titles were followed with offrings and inestimable presents. All that particular persons had gathered of gold, silver, pearles, costly habiliments and other excellent moveables, were throwne a [...] the feete of their Deliverer, and were as generously refused as they were free [...]y [...]. Zelmatida having beene a long time in freeing himselfe from the prease of the pe [...]le, came at last to the Palace, but instead of shoutes and bonefires, of which all the City was full, he met there with nothing but terror, silence, solitude and o [...]scurity. This sad apearance strooke him to the heart, and made him presently cast his thoughts on I [...]a­tida. He stayed the first that he met withall, and asked them of the King and the Queen [Page 78] and what new accidents had begot in the Court so generall and unhoped for a sadnesse; they answered him, that Montezuma and Hismalita were together, and shewed but lit­tle by their countenances their feeling or resentment of their common deliverance. Z [...]lmatida, presaging then the ill that the basenesse and cruelty of the husband and wife have made him suffer; went to see them; and relating to them with that grace particular to him, the successe of the last battell, drew them as by force out of the depth of their insensibility; and desiring to bring them absolutely to their mindes; What good (said he) friend to your Enemies, hath made you insensible of your felicities, and ties up your tongues in a time when you should use them in actions of prayse and thanksgiving? Come, come, let us a way to the Temples to offer pure offrings, and sacrifices of laud to the divinities, by whom your perfidious Subjects have beene punished, your deare M [...]xico delivered, your throne exalted, and your celestiall persons avenged from the shame of fetters and the infamy of a publique death. Doe not you feare that your gods take notice of your ingratitude? and that repenting the good which you so ill acknow­ledge, they rayse not againe the cruell and felonious Coatelicamat, and give you over to the rage of his complices? Zelmatida, after he had used this bold language to those timorous Princes, turned himselfe to some Priests that were with them; and you too (said [...]e to them▪ contemners of the sacred character that makes you reigne over your like; doe you mis [...]value the authors of your power, and for feare to brush at the iniquity of men, betray ye the cause of the gods? Run, run to the Temples, adorne the Altars, s [...]nd even to Heaven the odor of your perfumes, and let all ring againe with your sa­cred Songs and Eulogies. Montezuma not daring to oppose things so just, rose from his [...], and taking the Queene went with Zelmatida and all his Court to the great Temple of [...]. He could scarce enter, it was so full of people; but as if he was come thither only but to confirme him in his first errors, and to have most certaine proofes of that misfortune which he did but suspect, all the people saluted him but for fashions like, and fixing their eyes on Zelmatida, calld him a hundred times the father and deliv [...] of M [...]xico. The prayers being ended, Montezuma returned more confu­s [...]d and afflicted then when he came. Hismalita that regarded no more my deare Ma­ster out as a Monster ready to devoute her, could not at all open her mouth to answere him, but followed the king her husband. As soone as they were all at the Pallace, they gave (atleast in shew) the good night to Zelmatida, and put off till the morrow the en­t [...]rtayning him with publique affaires. The generous Prince, pittied the folly of those two Princes, and resolving in himselfe to try his uttermost to free them from it, went foreight to Isatidaes chamber. It was told him that Montezuma had sent for her, and that she should be that night with the Queene. What a friend had that fatall Messenger beene to Zelmatida, if he had given him his death when he brought him this unwelcom newes! My deare master had not suffered but one death, when since that unfortunate day, he is passible of all, and passible without seeing any end of them. He was not content with an answere to him so fatall, but enquired after the causes of that novelty, but learning nothing that could give him satisfaction, he retyr'd himselfe to his lodging, not to take any rest, but to increase his vexation by the agitations of his Soule. The day following so sad a night, was far more sorrowfull. My deare Master could not see the King nor the Queen, and that which afflicted him more, he could not possibly either know where the princesse Isatida was, nor to see any of her attendants. It was late night when Galtazis came to him from Hismalita, and signified, that her religion, and certaine vowes which she and her daughters had made during the imprisonment of Montezuma; oblieged them to a long retyrement, and she therefore besought him that he would not thinke it strange, and would not beleeve that without very great and law­full causes, they would deprive themselves of the contentment of seeing him. But (added Galtazis) I am to informe you or some things more true and more important too, then these.

Retyre to your owne lodgings, and doe me the honour to expect me there. In the meane time, recall that vigour and great courage by which we have knowne Gyants to be so easily over com. With those helps you must encounter such as are more redoubtable then those that you have vanquish' [...]. Galtazis in leaving him, gave a paper into his hands, [Page 79] and prayed him (by way of diversion) that he would take the paines to reade it. Zelma­tida retyred, and commanding all to leave him alone, and willing to see what the dwarfe had given him; He unfolded the paper and read that which followeth.

Mirzenia, unworthy Archiculti of the sacred Zia­macazques, and least servant of the gods: To Montezuma Image of their Benediction.

AFter the sacrificing the three hundred Panucien slaves, which thy soveraigne valour destinated for the Gods on the day of thy tryumph, after the besprinkling their ho­ly Images, bathing the feete of their Altars, and washing the tyles of their Chappells, with so much blood as was consecrated to them; After the filling the Censers royall, with the precious gumme of Cop [...]llii, and perfumed the heavenly nosthrills with so sweete an odor; I have poured out mine owne blood from all parts of my body, and by my purifications have merited the sight of the great Zezcatlipuca, whose providence watcheth alwaies over the Empire of Mexico. His presence hath rent the vayles that hid from me what was to come hereafter. I have seene the shadow of future things more cleere then the beames of the Sun, and behold that which they reserve for thee, both of good and evill: Thy Raigne shall be lesse remarkable by thy conquests then by thy imprisonment, and thy life, which is to be unfortunate shall be farre lesse so then thy death. Thou shalt be despoiled of thy Empire without losing the Title of King, and though it be transported into a strange family, thou shalt yet have successors of thine owne race. I see comming from another world, Monsters, that fly on the sea, and and throw fire every where. They shall disgorge on the shoares unknowne men, who by their presence alone shall destroy those people that obey thee; and thy selfe consen­ting to their losse, shalt suffer one of those men to take thee prisoner in thine owne Pallace, and to lead thee in triumph through proud Mexico.

These great revolutions have their prefixed terme. The time is neer. Thy calamities approch. Thy enemies leave their aboades, and already some of those Monsters that are to produce them, have beene seene on our coastes. The only remedy which I finde for thy ills, is, that thou get a Virgin Princesse, Daughter to a great King whose power thou redoubtest. By her intercessions thou shalt avert thy misfortunes, confirme thy tottering Throne, and make thy Children to raigne many ages after thee. But who can give thee knowledge of that royall Virgin, and by what good hap without example, canst thou ravish her out of the armes of her Father? If ever thou possesse that treasure keepe it more carefully then thy life; be more jealous of it then of thine Empire; h [...]ve a car [...] it be not stollen from thee; and above all keepe it hidden from that redoubted Stranger, who under pretext of offring thee his service and armes, will come to steale her from thee. This Conqueror of Nations will enter thy Territories as a man un­knowne, but by his valour, he shall soone make himselfe Master of thy Subjects, and by her also he shall pluck thee from a shamefull death prepared for thee. At that time thou shalt lose the Virgin which thou hast so carefully kept, and that losse shall be followed by all those wherewith the gods threaten thee.

Zelmatida having ended the reading of the scrole would have given it an explication that might not be displeasing to him. He therefore justified himselfe in his owne thoughts from all that which might make him to be that stranger which this prediction deciphe­red, and speaking as if some Judge had questioned him: My conscience (said he) my passed actions and my designes absolutely bely this false prophet. I neither pretend t [...] the Crowne of Mexico nor to the life of Montezuma. Tis true I love Isatida, and [...] deprive me of the happinesse of seeing her, is to force me to strange extreamities. As [...] [Page 80] was further thus going on, Galtazis came in and surprised him in his deepe meditations. My Master (said the little One to him, he was wont to call him so) I bring you the cruell explication of the Prophesie I left with you, but I bring it you imperfect, since I could [...] understand but the end of the discourse which on that subject Montezuma had with Hismalita. Be assured (said she to him) that the time is come, in which, we and our Empire are to fall into the hands of strangers. My delivery is a great and a certaine [...] of it, and the love which all my Subjects beare to the invincible stranger, a­g [...]eing with the inclination of Isatida, makes it so evident, that unlesse I will betray my selfe I can no more doubt of it. I know that the fatall Virgin is in our custody, and that we may shut her up in a place where none shall see her: But to whom shall we [...]ust, that may hinder her being stolen and forced from us. We will not resolve, nor you, nor my selfe, to keepe her during both our lives; and those others which we shall chuse as the most faithfull for this important deposit, may be (tis possible) the first that shall deliver the Maiden into the hands of our enemy. Hismalita, at that word, inter­ [...]upting the King her husband, I know said she an expedient far more easy then all that. Tis fit that the death of one single person should save the lives of a whole Nation; and that we secure our owne and our Empire, by cutting off those that are to deprive us of them! O never have so horrible a thought (replied Montezuma) it is expresly forbidden us to lay violent hands on the Virgin. She ought to be more pretious to us then our owne lives, and I have learnt from the very mouth of the great Mirzenia, that in the very same instant that this Innocent shall die, I shall meet the full period of my daies. Know then, what we must doe (answered Hismalita) let us send her to my Brother, and conjure him to keepe her for us as carefully as he doth the valiant Inca, which those of Quito put into our hands after the death of Guina Capa. We shall have cause to live at quiet when this misfortunate Protectresse shall [...]e so far from all mens knowledge, and seeing that the captivity of Alisma (who without doubt is the to-be-feared stranger, with whose fury the gods doe threaten us) hath made us live these twelve yeeres in a tran­qu [...]y which hath not beene interrupted but by your bondage, let us be confident that the imprisonment of our Daughter will make our good daies everlasting. I should be of your minde (replied Montezuma) if Mirzenia had spoken to me but of one stranger, but I take notice of two in his prediction; and when I shall beleeve that Alisma may passe for one of them, I must yet feare a second. And that second is no other then that invin­cible stranger, who may terme himselfe more then I, the absolute Master of my Empire. To put him to death, besides that it is expresly forbidden me, I cannot consent to it, since I have no mo [...]e life, nor other Crowne then what his valour hath given me. I am not (said Hismalita) swaied by these considerations unworthy of a royall soule, but I am re­solved by the menaces of Mirzenia. Make me see, that that stranger cannot die without the losse of our selves, and I will make you soone knowe, that Kings ought not to have any consideration but for themselves, and as they are above all the services that can be rendred them, they are so too above all the conceptions that nature gives to common persons. May the gods this very day accomplish all their threates (said the King to her) rather then I consent to those mischievous Maximes! No, no, the stranger shall never perish by my will, nor shall the life that he hath given me be the cause of his death. Th [...]t which we have to doe, is, to intertaine him in such sort, that our people may know that we are neither so weake spirited to be jealous of him, nor so ingrate to deny him the recompence of his labours: Tis possible that time may cleare our doubts, and make us see that we interpret ill the will of our gods. Galtazis after he had thus faithfully related the discourse between Montezuma and Hismalita, advised him to stand on his guard, and not to trust so much in the goodnesse of the husband, but that he should be al­waies armed against the malice of the wife. My deare Master thinking lesse on his owne conservation then that of Isatida; but, Galtazis (said he) where is the faire Mistris? What doth she with Hismalita, is it impossible for me to see her? And should she be ta­ken for the Virgin mentioned in this impertinent prediction? To all this said the Dwarfe I can give you but little satisfaction. My faire Mistris is more strictly guarded then her Sisters, she lies with the Queene her Mother, and goes not out of her Chamber. She weepes, she sighes, she pities your misfortune more then her owne; and knowing [Page 81] in what perplexity you are, she sends me to entreat you, either that you will goe out of Mexico, or secke not the meanes to see her. As for that which belongs to the prediction, I cannot tell you whether Isatida be the Virgin so necessary for the conservation of Montezuma; but I will tell you that I most passionately wish it, for if she be the Maiden, I feare not any more that terrible anger which I read in the eyes, and all the actions of Hismalita. For other things, prepare you selfe for the honours that Montezuma resolves to conferre on you, and faine so well that he may not perceive that you doe dissemble▪ I will informe you to morrow, if I can, the councells which the night shall give to my faire Mistris. Galtazis tooke back againe the letter, after he had given this advise to Zelm [...]ida, and returned to the Pallace. The Inca was left alone, and knowing not what to resolve on, passed in a moment from pity to indignation, and from love to all hatred. At last reposing all his affaires in that providence which had never forsaken him; let us suffer Zelmatida (said he to himselfe) and prepare our selves for all the injustices that fortune is capable of: provided, that the hope to see Isatida again be not taken from us, we may vaunt our selfe sufficiently strong to overcome all things. These speeches and others the like intertaining him all night, he rose without taking the least rest. He was no sooner out of his bed, when five or six of those old Princes (who during the siedge of Mexico had beene witnesses of his noble actions) came to him, and said, that Montezuma had sent them to accompany him to the triumph that all Mexico did owe to his incomparable vaiour: Zelmatida, much surprised at so great a change, begun his discourse by very obliging demeanures, and continued it by as humble thanks which he besought the Princes to present to Montezuma. I know (said he) that all that which comes either from gods or Kings, ought to be received by men with as much amazement as glory; and tis a most proud humility, to reject their presents, under pretext that they doe not deserve them. The king yet I hope will have so much goodnesse, as not to constraine me to a thing which I refuse not because I am unwotthy of it, but I would refuse it, because my condition of a banished man, and the calamity of those that brought me into the world, permit me not to be fortunate. Those Princes used a [...] their eloquence, to get him to receive that honour, and grew so earnest in it, that they depu­ted one from among them to give notice to Montezuma of Zelmatida's refusall. The weake King (if ever there were any) going from one extreamity to another, came himselfe to the lodging of my Lord the Inca, and after he had asked his pardon for his retirement, told him, that he had not kept himselfe alone two daies, but to the end that he might passe all the rest of his life in the others company. Your generousnesse which is not lesse knowne to me then to my Subjects (said he) assures me that you have already forgotten those faults that my necessity brought on, and that you will not impute them to neglect or ingratitude. Zelmatida unmindefull of Galtazis advice, thought that Montezuma spoke to him really and truely, and on that opinion finding himselfe to be extreamely obliged to his courtesie: My Lord (said he) I will beleeve, since you will have it so, that my services have not been altogether unprofitable to you. But to have me perswade my selfe that they are equivalent to the recompence which I receive by the honour you doe me, is to forget who I am, and in what manner Kings are accustomed to converse with men of my ranck. Montezuma would faine have found out some complements to have gone beyond those of Zelmatida, but nature, that had not so much [...]efriended him, inforced him to carry that by his authority which he had never gotten by his eloquence. He tooke Zelmatida by the hand, and drawing him almost by strength out of his Chamber, put him himselfe in the royall Chaire. Well my Lord (said Zelmati­da) in rising out of the Chaire, I will receive this honour since tis your pleasure; but I beseech your goodnesse not to exact any more from my complying. It appertaines only to you to triumph, since twas by the virtue of your Subjects, and the fortune of your [...]mes, that the Theviciens and their Allies have beene defeated. Doe you triumph then; and prophane not your renowne in communicating it to a miserable stranger▪ My Master, in this sort resisting the honorable violences of Montezuma brought him to that streight, either to appeare himselfe alone in that triumph or to cut off the principall ce­remonies. The King (besides) desirous to make knowne that this triumph was not pre­pared but for Zelmatida; commanded all those to march on that had beene chosen for [Page 82] the pompe and shew, and taking my deare Master by the hand, walked on foote to the Temple of their god of Battels. He caused there to be celebrated, the bloody Sacrifice of the immolation of Slaves, and streight after were seene not only rivelets of blood glyding from all corners of the Temple, but also the bodies of the poore Theviciens carried by hundreds to the places appointed for their buriall. This abhominable devotion being ended, Montezuma returned to the Palace as he came, and made an exceeding great feast for Zelmatida, where all the Caciques that were in his Court, assisted the Princes of the blood, and the chiefe knights.

When the tables were taken away, the rest of the day was spent in musick, playes, and many other kindes of galantryes, which plenty, peace and voluptuousnesse, had made the Mexicans Inventors. The night had her particular rejoycings. Hismalita gave Zelmatida a ball, and brought in Isatida and her sisters in such ornaments, and with such charmes as were capable to vanquish meere insensibility. Zelmatida in lieu of fayning as Galtazis had advised him, and to suspend his love to give place to his wisedome, see­med as distracted at the sight of Isatida. He left Montezuma that then stayed with him, and passing through the company without heeding whom he thrust, got thither where his passion transported him. The Princesse perceiving it, not only blushed, but was so farre offended, that fayning to haue some what to say to the Queene her mother, she turned her back to her unfortunate slave, and left him to make a long and cruell penance for the fault which he had committed against her commandement. Montezuma noted both the one and the other action, and Hismalita, finding in it new cause of distrust and hatred, had not power enough over her selfe to dissemble it. Her ill humor broke out in such a fashion, and principally against Isatida, that my deare Master had almost lost all respect, and had even a will to accomplish that part of the prediction which spoke of the ravishing of Isatida. He was neverthelesse restrayned by the feare of displeasing the Princesse, but he caused in himselfe so great an Effort by this constraint, that with the excesse of griefe, he fell as it were dead at the feete of Hismalita. O how that Queene (if I deceive not my selfe) prayed, that he might never come to himselfe a­gaine! But her malice was not heard; for just heaven who sawe no offence nor crime in the passion of my deare Master, sent him supernaturall strength to supply that which nature had lost in him. Montezuma ran first to him, and causing him to be taken by some young knights, witnessed by his assistance that goodnesse is not incompatible with weakenesse. Zelmatida, recovered from his fainting, and ashamed of what he had done, beleeved he could not better justifie himselfe, then in supposing some strange ill. He therefore complayned, and asking pardon of the King for his disturbance, hum­bly besought his permission to retyre. Montezuma consented, and to shew how deare that Prince was to him, broke up the assembly, and gave command instantly that the high-priest should cause prayers to be said in all the Temples for the health of my deare Master. Zelmatida who till then lay buried in his usuall musings, awakened from so deepe a flumber; and how (said he) to the three Princes, have you beene able to en­dure the company of one so troublesome. Garruca knowing the intention of his ma­ster, arose, and but for Polexander, who stayed him, had beene gone, that he might not be constrayned to continue his discourse. Thereupon Bajazet spoake, and addres­sing himselfe to Zelmatida; You have cause (said he) to deprive us of the content which the relation of your adventures gives us. For our silence is a signe that we have not that feeling of it which we should. And truly we are eyther jealous of your fame, or insensible of brave actions, since that so many miracles as Garruca hath made known to us, seeme to have no more touched us then would the recitall of some vulgar acci­dent. Zelmatida blushing at the pratling of Bajazet tooke Garruca, and making him sit downe againe, goe on (said he) and speake of me what thou wilt. I shall finde it more supportable then the explication Bajazet gives of my words. Polexander, unwilling to speake any thing to Zelmatida for feare of some new interruption, intreated Garruca to continue his discourse. He would have obeyed him, but in the instant a noyse of drummes and trumpets hindred him, and made Bajazet send to know the cause of this novelty. The slaves which were on the Guard came and told him that there was newly arrived in the Island a man with an extraordinary attendance, who desired to speake with him.

[Page 83] Bajazet sent to the Captaine of the Fortresse, that he should doe his charge, and ha­ving taken his pledges, he permitted the stranger to enter. These done were done al­most in an instant, and Barberossa brought the stranger to his Generall. The good aspect of the young man was not the cause alone that drew the Princes eyes upon him. He was clad after such a fashion, that a man must have beene voyde of all curiositie that would not earnestly have regarded him. He had an habilliment imbroydered with gold and silver, made in so particular a fashion, and so becomming, that you could not have seene any thing fayrer. He wore a kinde of Helmet after the ancient manner, on which waved a great plume of feathers of all colours, and about his neck he had a col­ler of gold, in which was written in letters of Diamonds [Alcidiana gave it.] Two the like circles served him for garters, and to those were fastned two long chaines of gold, which were carried by two dwarfes. As soone as he came before Bajazet, he presented to him a linnen Roule, and before he unfolded it; I am (said he) the slave of Alcidiana. The richnesse of my chaines may let you know the greatnesse of her that makes me weare them. I goe from Country to Country to publish her mervailes, and for feare lest the incredulous and jealous should accuse me of flattery, I alwaies carry her picture, to make all eyes witnesses of those truthes I proclayme. A tempest throwing me on this Isle, I had neere neglected to come on shore for feare of prophaning the beauties of Al­cidiana, in shewing them to Barbarian [...]. But when I understood it was the seate of fa­mous Bajazet, I presently set foote on shore to lay open to his eyes, all that which na­ture and the Sun ever yet made most worthy of admiration. Unrole then that linnen cloth, and see, or rather imagine in seeing an Image, though imperfect, of that divine Queene, what thinke you should she be her selfe? Bajazet ravished with the discourse as well as with the faire presence of the slave, unfolded the cloth that he held and dis­covered so faire a picture, that he was forced to cry out, that Art had gone beyond all that Nature could doe. You blaspheme (said the slave to him) for if ever fortune bring you a shore on the Inaccessible Island, and that you have a sight of Alcidiana, you will cry out more justly, O how farre hath Nature gone beyond all that Art is able to pro­duce I My exclamation (replyed Bajazet) is an effect of my astonishment and not of my incredulity. I doubt not but Alcid [...] is farre fayrer then she is in this portraict; and if you wanted another witnesse then your selfe to confirme me in that opinion; there is a Prince in this place that will not refuse you his testimony. A Prince (replyed the slave) and who may that Prince be? never other then Pol [...]xander hath beene so hap­py to s [...]e Alcidiana. It may be I speake of him, said Bajazet. The Slave would have gone on with his discourse, when Polexander pale and trembling, as a man in the cold fit of a violent ague, presented himselfe before him, and kissing the fetters he wore; yes (said he) O most happy Pallantus! I am the unfortunate Polexander, whom desti­ny judgeth not only unworthy to review thy incomparable Mistris, but also to carry as thou doest, the markes of her glorious servitude. The Slave after he had some while considered Polexander, threw himselfe at his feete, and against his will kissing them.

What Prince (said he) reignes there this day on the Earth, who owes not this ho­mage to him whom the divine Alcidiana hath acknowledged worthy of her esteeme, as well as of her anger. Ah Pallantus (replyed Polexander) thou hast not joyned the [...] ­steeme of thy divine Queene with her anger, but to imitate those cunning Phisitions who to make their bitter and unsavory pills or potions to be taken, mingle it with som­thing pleasant and sweete. But I am too much used to bitternesse to imagine that thing that is offered me can have any kinde of sweetnesse. Tell me then (deare Pallantus) the most cruell of all my destiny; and without flattering me with an esteeme that I shall ne­ver deserve; let me know that which the just choler of A [...]cidiana hath reserved for my rashnesse. Pallantus would willingly have hidd [...]n from Polexander that which he knew of his fortune, but fearing to offend by his discretion, the blinde obedience which he had sworne to Alcidiana: Doe not doubt (said he to our Heroe) but that my faire Queene esteemes of your valour, and heares not without astonishment that which Fame speakes of your noblenesse. But your daring hath not pleased her, and when she knew that you respected her not with all the f [...]are and all the reverence that [Page 84] we ought to beare to sacred things, she hath resolved by a long absence, to chastise the irregularity of your desires. Her indignation had beene satisfied by putting you to this affliction, if the impudency of her Subjects had not oblieged her to take from you, for ever, the contentment of seeing her. What (said Polexander) was it not enough for me to be punished for my offences, without engaging me to beare the iniquity of o­thers? No (answered Pallantus) the faults of your friends being mixt with your owne, hath set you for a marke to which aymes all the most rigorous justice of Alcidiana. The errors of Amalthea, the solicitations of Pisander, the teares of Amintha, and the irregu­lar love of a people made foole by your valour, have brought my Queene to forbid you the comming into her kingdome, and to condemne you to death, if you ever chance to violate what she hath forbidden. O errors! O solicitations! O teares! O popular blindnesse! (said Polexander) how much am I beholding to you? that have obtayned for me a favour that I value not much lesse then the love of Alcidiana. Yes faire Queene (he added) casting his eyes on the picture of Alcidiana, yes, I will die of that death to which you have condemned me, and will die, if I can, without displeasing you by diso­bedience. Polexander stopping at these words, seemed to expect Pallan­tus answere, but perceiving that the Slave repented him of what he had spoken: Goe not about (said he) by your word to disguise the passions of your Princesse. Remember tis she alone to whom you owe both your respect and complying, and that in mincing those things which her Majesty commands you, you violate the purity of your faith, and make your selfe unworthy of those faire chaines which your unsoyled loyalty hath ac­quired you. Say then boldly that Polexander must perish, and that Alcidiana her selfe hath designed to pronounce his Sentence of death. But Pallantus, to the end that none may doubt of the will of that Princesse, conceale no longer my just condemnation; let me see the termes that begot [...], in what words 'tis contained, and be assured that I shall receive it as the most glorious signall by which my life hath yet ever beene honoured. I will satisfie you answered (Pallantus) since Alcidiana will have it so, and that at the same time I make her beauty to be adored, I cause her power to be redoubted. In saying this, he unfolded a great volume sealed with a golden Medal, where was the portraict of Alcidiana on one side, & on the other a Phenix on a Cedar, with foure words that may be thus expounded [Only like my selfe.] Pollexander tooke this vellome with a kinde of adoration, and rendring particular homages to the picture of Alcidiana, he read his condemnation with such a tone, that made them well judge, his life was not so considerable to him as the glory of that Queene. These were the words of the Declaration.

Alcidiana seated in the throne of the Sun, by a long succession of Kings, to all that shall see the Decrees of our Will, Love and Feare. The sanctity of our Empire, and the purity of our people, had remained inviolable through many ages, and the contagion of strange manners had not yet infected our Provinces, when cert [...]ine unknowne ves­sels brought thither, with the knowledge of some vices, men impudent enough to pra­ctise them. 'Tis true that these cunning criminels, borrowed the ornaments of virtue, to hide the deformity of their lives, and that the innocency of our pe [...]ple might not be corrupted till they had beene beguyled. But although crimes are not crimes when they be not voluntary, and by consequence our Subjects, not criminall, since they offend without an intention of offending: Yet the complying with their errors, and the little care they had, not to be deceived, made them at last guilty. Now, He, by whose power we reigne, having commanded us to stop the current of this Ill: We forbid all our Subjects to entertaine correspondence with any strangers, or to receive them into our ports, without giving us first notice of them. And We command to the Princes of the Sacrifices, and to our Pilots, which are yearely sent to the Islands of the Sun, not to take any stranger into their ships, and rather to lose themselves in fighting, then to yeeld to the discretion of those that shall assayle them. And for as much as we under­stand that some of our Subjects, more by ignorance then malice, publish certaine dis­courses, that tend to the contempt of our Authority, and the shame of our s [...]x: We condemne to an everlasting forgetfullnesse, as well the name of him that can be said to be the Author, as the Cause. And 'tis Our pleasure that our Isle be shut up to him [...] [Page 85] ever. And if his boldnesse dares give him a hart to set footing thereon: We ordaine and command that he be presently taken as an enemy to our greatnesse and estate, and sacrificed with his Complices on the Altar of the god of vengeance.

Polexander, after he had read this Declaration, kissed it, and shewing a secret joy of his ill fortune, restored the volume into the hands of Pallantus. The illustrious slave, seeing so incredible a resignation, from a man whom he looked on as the miracle and astonishment of his Age: Truely (said he) those that vaunt of knowing you, doe infi­nite wrong to your virtue; It is exceedingly above their relation and discovery, for my part, I confesse, that till now I have beene ignorant in that which hath beene most admirable in your life. Let no man talke to me hereafter of that invincible courage which by many heroicall actions hath acquired you the love or the admiration of all men. Let that magnanimity be forgotten, which hath made you refuse those Crownes that have beene offered you, to render them to those from whom fortune had plucked them. Let us thinke no more on that generous humanity by which you have entred into the greivances of your enemies and participated with their disgraces. In a word, let there be a perpetuall silence of all those eminent virtues which you practise in your prosperity and let none admire but at the strength of that soule that makes you receive with a be­nediction the unjust Judgement of a passionate Judge, and to run to a death that you have not deserved. Alcidiana shall pardon me if she please, in saying, that she knowes not what she condemnes, and that Amalthea hath not only beene wise in abandoning all reason to follow so worthy a subject, but that her error should give a desire to those that feare to die, as the vulgar of her sex. Polexander, unwilling to answer to the be­ginning of Pallantus speech; tooke from the latter end, his cause of reply, and asked him, what that Amalthea was, who at one time he seemed to condemne and absolve. Tis a yong Princesse said Pallantus, lost with love, and one with whose losse Alcidiana much touched, hath commanded me to search all the Islands that inviron hers. If by chance she be fallen into the hands of Bajazet, you will render a signall service to my Princesse to restore her. Presently Polexander cast his eyes on Baj [...]zet to entreat him in the name of Alcidiana to cause Amalthea to be searcht for amongst his slaves. Baja­zet prevented his petition and told him that ever since he had beene chosen Generall of the Rovers, no man had taken any woman but that he presently set her at liberty. Pal­lantus having no other businesse in that place, would have taken leave of the Princes, that so he might not give that time to his pleasure, which he ought to the service and ho­nour of Alcidiana. But Polexander staied him, and intreated that he would bestow on him the rest of the day, that at more leasure he might instruct him of somethings that be­longed to the service of his Queene. Pallantus durst not refuse to give the Prince that contentment. He therefore staied with him, and signifying that he desired his compa­ny apart. B [...]jazet brought Zelmatida to Iphidamantus, and left those two slaves at their owne liberty. They went forth together out of the Fortresse, and engaged them­selves in so long and so pleasing discourses, that it was two houres within night before they returned. B [...]jazet, the while had tried to alay the mel [...]ncholy of the two other Princes, by new diversions: and shewed them a certaine warlike dance, wherein his slaves armed at all pointes shewed equally their strength and activity. This exercise was done part by day, and part by torc [...]light, to give more luster to the diversity of their ha­bits, and the fire workes that set forth the dance. Polexander came in a little after it was ended, and as if he had received some newes that obliged him to depart instantly, he ad­dressed himselfe to Bajazet, and speaking to hi [...] seriously, tell me (said he) on what conditions are men accustomed to have their liberties from you? When you are ready to depart (answered Bajazet) I will set downe your ransome: Let it be then presently (replied Polexander) for if your service stay me not, I should be glad to be no longer heere. Yet (said Bajazet) you will be pleased to give us some [...]ime to thinke of this se­peration. Besides Pallantus, whom you have retained, intends not to set saile by night, and I know you would not leave him in the hands of Pirates. This jeasting, being well liked on, gave occasion for others, which diverted the Princes, till they were called to the Table. They were intertained as before, that was with so great magnificence, that Pallantus not knowing what to admire among so many [...], was con­strayned [Page 86] to say that Fame which seemed to flatter when she published com­mon things, was exceeding envious and sparing in relating such as were ex­traordinary.

Polexander hereupon speaking, you would have (said he) farre more cause to finde fault with report, if you knew as well the virtues of Bajazet as you doe his power and riches; His fortune seemes to you wonderfull, and tis in that which heaven is to him most injurious. But although he affects to conceale himselfe even from his friends, yet I have neyther had so little curiosity, nor so small credit, but that I have learnt the most important actions of his life, I will one day relate them to you. Let us for this time goe on to what more concerns us, and seeing that the continuance of Zelmatidaes adven­tures cannot be deferred to another time, let us give it the rest of the Evening. Zelma­tida did what in him lay to contradict Polexanders proposition, but being pressed by I­phidamantus and Bajazet, you (said he) shall be obeyed; and Garruca who is not of the wisest, when I am to be spoken of, meanes not to refuse you a thing in whose relation he takes more pleasure then he can by it any way give you. Iphidamantus and Baja­zet told Zelmatida, that he should leave to them the liberty of judgeing of those plea­sures, and since himselfe, otherwise distraught, gave so little heede during the first nar­ration, there was no appearance that he had taken notice whether of the two Garruca or his auditors had received most contentment. Brother (said Polexander to Iphidaman­tus) suffer him to beleeve what he list, so that he permit Garruca to relate and us to hearken to him. Herewith he arose from table, and taking Bajazet by one hand, and Garruca by the other, went into Iphidamantus chamber. Zelmatida in lieu of follow­ing them, got to walke on the Terrafles of the Castle, and left them all the liberty they desired. When every one was placed, Polexander imposed silence, and Garruca be­ginning a new, thus ended the adventures of his Master.

The History of Alcidianaes divers Humors.

AFter that the impudent Siziphus had by your valour receiv'd the chastisement that his Rebellion and pride ought to have expected: Alcidiana testifyed, publiquely, [...]hat the service you had done her, was such as Kings could not worthily acknowledge, [...] least, then in giving up their crownes with themselves. But in particular, she found [...] [...]lte offended with your good fortune and courage; and the greatnesse of the obli­gation [...]ut her into choller against him that [...]ad oblieged her. After shee had long time [...]used, and a great while given eate to these proud motions, [...]he called to her the dis­ [...]eete Amintha, and being shut with her into her Closet. Doe not you beleeve (said [...]he) that the rash Syziphus had intelligence with the man that overcame him, and tha [...] [...]e had not taken armes against us, but to cause that stranger to merit the glory to ha [...]e [Page 124] sav'd us. To what may not Polexander pretend? since that if We reigne over our selfe and subjects, we owe that double Empire to his courage. But what said I Amintha? No, no, we reign no more, Polexander is the person alone which hath right to govern in this Island. Fortune hath put us into his discretion, and the liberty wee so much brag of, is not ours, since we owe it to his victory. Deplorable Alcidiana; give over this impe­rious minde, and these insolent contempts, with which thou hast hitherto regarded all men. It behooves thee to learne to honor them, and after thou hast disdain'd so many Kings, to accustome thy selfe to respect a stranger and acknowledge him to be thy deli­verer. Polexander could not endure that Pallantus should continue his discourse, but in­terrupting him, made shew how much the reproaches of Alcidiana were mortall to him. Truly (said he) Pallantus, thou hast not deceiv'd my expectation, though thy words seemed to promise me great cause of hope and consolation; I have ever yet beleeved that the divine wit of Alcidiana was not capable of being deceived. It hath presently noted the falsity of such things as some flatterers have published of me, and discovering in the bottome of my Soule, an extraordinary pride and a prodigious ambition; it hath well beene perceived that all my actions were criminall, and that I wore not the maske of virtue, but to make way for my crimes with the more cunning and impu­nity. Pallantus thinking Polexander had too fayre a Subject to talke for himselfe, to be silent, interrupted him as tother had done: and having most humbly intreated him for his attention.

Doe not hope (said he) that I will goe on a jot further, if you doe not promise to hearken to what I shall tell you, with that constancy that generous men attend even when they are innocent, the judgement of a Judge that pronounceth the Sentence of death. Polexander, knowing that he had suffered himselfe too easily to be led away by his passion, intreated Pallantus to pardon him that heate; and swore to him even by Alcidiana, that he would not violate any more the silence prescribed him. Pallantus would not doubt of an oath which hee beleeved inviolable, for Polexander, continu­ed in this manner the recitall of Alcidianaes opinions. As soone as the Queene had en­ded reproaching her selfe, she addressed her speech to Amintha, and desirous to obliege her to an answere: What shall we doe (said she) betweene two extremities, to us e­qually dangerous? If we have not an extreame resentment of the Combat, wherein Polexander engaged himselfe for our conservation, wee shall live esteemed the most unworthy Princesse that ever yet with ingratitude hath payed the Services that have beene done her. And if those of this stranger be confessed, as our importance obliegeth us, we not only uncloathe our selves of all that Nature hath given us of high and great, but bring our selves to the infamous necessity of living and dying slaves. Amintha, who hath alwai [...]s testifyed how much your virtue wrought her to love what imported you, answered the Queene, that how great soever the dangers were, they were never such as cowardly mindes imagined them. That the two extremities which her Majesty spoake of, were equally to bee feared, but that 'twas easie to avoide them. That be­tweene those two vices there was a virtue, that by a stable firmity neyther lean'd to the one nor to the other, and which by a just domination raigned imperiously over them both. That she should take hold of that virtue, and not looke on her selfe as in­gratefull, or as a slave, but as a powerfull Queene, that being serv'd by a person infinitely belowe her selfe, could not imagine in him, eyther so much pride to demande exces­sive recompences, nor so much weakenesse to complayne, though he should not receive eyther great or little. Alcidiana, finding not in Aminthaes answere the satisfaction she looked for: If (said she) all things were in that order which heaven prescribed them, I could make use of those expedients you propose. But if I abide in that mediocrity what will not a people say, which blames all that crosses their fancy; and who weigh­ing all rewards and labours in a false ballance, neither beleeve the one nor the other e­quitable, if they be not conformable to what they have prejudged. Yet let us imagine that my Subjects will be more discreete and judicious then those of other kingdomes. and let us beleeve that they will even approve the resolutions I have taken to acquit me of that which Iowe to Polexander: Doe you thinke that Polexander dazelled with the victory he hath newly gotten over his Enemy, [...]nd possessed by that unmeasurable [Page 125] ambition which youth and valour inspire in all great Spirits, can give any bounds to his pre [...]mions? What presents or promises soever we make him, hee will value them in­fe [...]iour to his deservings. Amintha here with spoke, and desirous to cut up by that roote the Queenes perturbations. Madam (said she) be pleased that without losse of the re­spect which I owe to your Majesty, I tell you that these feares are not considerable since they proceede not from a peacefull and reasonable Soule, but from a minde full of scorne and sorrow, and by consequence loaden with such motions as perplex it. Doe better Madam, doe not feigne to your selfe these disp [...]asures, which may bee you shall never feele, let time worke and Polexander; and put off the resolutions you would take, till you be oblieged to them, eyther by the necessitie of your affaires, or the propo­sitions of Polexander. Alcidiana wanting power over her selfe to resist Aminthaes Councell, made all her feares give place to a compleasancy. From that very day, if you remember it, she sent to visite you, and gave you as a token of extraordinary favour the priviledg to enter the Pallace. You came thither, & as if your victory had been to you a cause of mortification and shame, you presented your selfe to the Queene with a con­fusion and a trembling, which was noted by all the Court. Alcidiana, who first percei­ved it, imagined (yet without any likeliehood) that your anger for being unrecompen­ced after so great a service was the cause of your alteration, and that error recalling all the precedent; she grew in choller against you and her selfe. What (said she unheard of any) Fortune then hath made me to be borne a Queene, and Nature hath bestowed on me those qualities she hath refused to many other Princesses, to the end that becom­ing slave to a stranger, I should have a more lively feeling then others, how rude that necessity is which forceth us to leave a Throne and enter into servitude. Amintha, well judging, that Alcidiana had great agitations, came neere to you, and heartning your a­stonish'd minde, by the actions of thanks, which shee gave you in the name of all the kingdome, made you by little a [...]d little to recouer both the use of speech and discourse. I recount to you these small incidents, since in the estate you then were when they hap­ned, it is not to be beleev'd that you can now remember them. Know then that you blush'd at the prayses Amintha had given you, and that you spoake of your Combat not only as of an action not to be thought on, and by consequence that neyther deserved honour nor recompence; but as of an attempt which should rather drawe on you the indignation and vengeance of Alcidiana. Amintha seeing things growe to that passe which she had foreseene; turned towards the Queene, and drawing her out of her musings; your Majesty (said she) may be pleased to free Polexander from the strange error wherewithall he is preoccupated. I had thought till now that pride was the only source of all pernicious beliefes, but this Prince makes me see that humility produceth some that are not lesse dangerous. He perswades himselfe Madam, that the Combat he vndertooke for your Majesty, may have offended you, and that he then began to be faulty; when he had so much boldnesse to declare himselfe your Champion. Alcidiana quickly imagining what was t [...]e intent of her discourse; was very much pleased with it, and glad to have it continued, that it might take off those perplexities that trou­bled him: the opinion (replyed she) that possesseth Polexander is more injurious to me then himselfe; for he cannot beleeve that his Combat hath displeased me, without conceiting that the audaciousnesse of Syziphus was not [...]o too. Streight, Amintha cast her Eyes on you, as to invite you not to suffer so injust an explication, and to make your selfe the Interpreter of your owne thoughts. But understanding that you were too much interdicted to undertake that answere; shee spoke for you, and ex­pressing the dexterity of her wit in so nice a businesse: I know Madam (said she to the Queene) that our actions are no otherwise innocent or criminall but as they are agree­able to those sacred personages, whom God hath pleased to appoint, to command, de­fend and judge us; and that those visible divinities, endowed with those lights we en­joy not, seeme no lesse to be elevated above us by the greatnesse of their wit, then they are by that of their byrth. Your Majesty yet may give me leave to suspend a while this verity, and to tell you with all the reverence and humility enjoyn'd me, that you have given that interpretation to Polexanders words, which hee would already have disa­vowed, if the Law of duty and respect had not closed his [...]ps and forbidden him to [Page 126] contradict your opinion. It seemes (replyed Alcidiana) that Polexander understands our language well, to have no neede of an interpreter, and that if hee were of your o­pinion, he would case you of the paine you take to defend him. Amintha that needed not to have any thing twice spoken to make her understand it; looked on you, and calling you to your owne defence. 'Tis in your choice (said she) to contradict me, or to make it knowne to the Queene, that I have said nothing but what shall be confessed, You then began to speake; and, as I have heard from Amintha, spoke in such a fashion that Alc [...]diana had not beene what she is, if shee had not beene fully satisfied with it. This conversation ended, she re [...]yred with Amintha, and remayning some time with­out saying any thing to her, at last she signified that she was cured of her former feares, Amintha confirmed her in an opinion very advantageous for you, and spoke of your discretion, as of that which was no lesse admirable then your valour. I acknowledge (said the Queen to her) Polexander is a brave man, he hath an extreme sweetnesse in his conversation, and his modesty denoteth the solidity of his Wit. But when I thinke on that which he hath but lately done for me, I confesse to you that his sight much troubles me, and as long as I see him, me thinks, I know not what voice whispers in mine eare: Doe not boast any more Alcidiana, neyther of the greatnesse of th [...] birth, nor of that absolute power which thou beleevest to have over so many people. Looke on this Stranger, thou owest to him all those things that give thee that advan­tage and glory. I doe my utmost to rid me of an opinion which I well see you con­demne: But the more that I would perswade my selfe that I owe nothing to Polexan­der, the more doth the happy estate wherein I am, and the ruine of mine Enemies make me know, that when I shall be to him the most ingratefull in the World, yet cannot I be otherwise to him then the more oblieged. Amintha, that thought it not fit to leave this yong & fair Princes, in such perplexitis as might much wrong her: It wil not be hard for you (sayd she) to reconcile two enemies that will not yeld in any thing to one ano­ther. Tis fit that those generous thoughts wold preserve you in that independacy where heaven hath put you, should raigne as absolu [...]ely as ever they have done. It behooves likewise, that you give some roome and place to those that speake to you of Polexanders Combat, and that by a just regulating, having put all things in the or­der they ought to observe and keepe, you consider the service of this Prince, as [...]o many homages which he hath done to your state and merit; and not as ayde which the necessity of your affaires hath compelled you to implore from his courage. In a word, you ought to looke on Polex [...]nder as a man who allured by the charmes of your virtue, and the sound of your fame, is come to offer you his sword and his life; and not as a Tyrant, who hath secretly contrived the rebellion of your people to thrust you into slavery. Alcidiana having not power to be so soone capable of Amintha's councell, though she thought it extreamly reasonable; told her, that she needed a great deale of time to be disposed to follow her advice. And indeede she was five or six dayes, without being able to suffer your presence, or resolve for your departure. Time at last plucking from her minde, all her feares and scruples, she came againe to her former mirthsomnesse; and causing to shine againe in her eyes that celestiall fire which had been hidden for a time, witnessed that her disquietts were at an end, and that her Soule had found againe that former peace it injoyed before Syziphus revolt had made it to you so considerable. Amintha noted this change, but her respect not permitting her to make it appeare; she wayted when some word or action of Alcidiana would give her the liberty of speach; And she got it in the great Garden of the Pallace. For one day the Queene walking there, tolde her that after she had well examined her councell, she was resolv'd to follow it. But (sayd she) this secret must rest betwixt us two, and let us consult together, in what manner we shall ac­quit us of a Debt that ought already have been payde. Your Majesty, answered A­mintha smiling, have not to doe with a Creditor that presseth you. The glory to have serv'd you, is the only payment which he expects for his paines; and if your Majesty will beleeve him, he will perswade himself as he hath done already, that his services merit no acknowledgment. Alcidiana turning her to Amintha▪ I know not, said she, why [...] stick [...]o strongly on this thought, I finde, that there are fa [...]re more [...]her things [Page 127] which in all likelyhood should take up my minde as much as this doth: and yet as i [...] on this alone depended the preservation of my authority, and the felicity of my life; I forgot all the rest, and think my selfe much troubled, when the care of my Estate, and the remembrance of other services that have been done me, divert me from this pleasing meditation. I confesse Amintha, that in this I am cleane contrary to my selfe, and that this change threatens me with some strange mishap. But I will prevent it if it may be prevented by any humane pollicy, and give end to my unrests in exiling from me the person that is the cause of it ae [...]l. If your Majesty (answered Amintha) will per­mit me to leave soothing, and give me leave to lay before you how your deliberations undoe one another, you may easily free your selfe from that perplexitie which your too n [...]e opinions bring on you, and without forcing your minde to any thing that may [...]exe it, may reduce your cogitation only to that of reigning, with that tranquility and justice, which have made you the admiration of all your Subjects, and the desire of all the Princes of the World. The difficulty (Madam) is to worke the greatnesse of your mind to give way that a stranger (after he had with successe enough, most beneficially done you service) should receive some little part of that honour which you would have to be wholly restored to your selfe: And to give his valour the recompence which your Majesty beleeves he hath deserved.

Indeede (said Alcidiana) there are but those two points in question. Now that your discourse hath diverted my thoughts, I see nothing more facil nor more reaso­nable, but when I thinke a little on the execution of these things, I see so many obsta­cles, and frame to my selfe so many difficulties, that my minde cannot so settle on it, but that in stead of disintangling them, it becomes worse incombred in it selfe. Scarce have I well framed an intention to submit me to your judgement, but I meete a second thought that opposeth the first. My Will strives with my Will, my feare curbs my desire, and to speake freelie to you, I would willingly without ingratitude bee unthankfull to Polexander. Amintha who (may be) would engage the Queene to make a more am­ple declaration of her intentions; Will not your Majesty (said she) thinke mee too fancy if I take the boldnesse to aske you, whence proceeded these strange contrarieties? Doe you not feele in your selfe, a certaine desire and feare that causeth this ebb and flood in your Will? That's it (answered the Queene) that I could never yet come to acknowledge. These disorders are not begotten by any cause at all, at least not by any whereof I am sensible. The wise Radiotez, who hath so often spoken to mee of the trou [...]les and passions of the Soule, hath taught me nothing that hath any resemblance with my afflictions. I have forgot nothing of his Lectures, and know very well, if I deceive not my selfe, in what manner hatred and amitie are bred in us. But when I apply that which I know, to the affaire with Polexander, I finde that as I have no rea­son to hate him, so have I no inclination to love him. Polexander not daring to com­plaine, for feare of violating the Law that was so necessarilie enjoyned him, sighed a­lowd when he heard these last resolutions of Alcidiana. But the faire slave seemed to take no heede to it, and thus continued his discourse: After the Queene had ended this declaration, she stayed a while gazing on Amintha. Amintha on her part looked on the Queene and said nothing, and so eyed her, that Alcidiana saw well she required a more ample manifestation of her minde. But she, shewing I know not what plea­sing anger. Expect no more of me (said she) I have laid open my heart to you, if you be not satisfied you must finde fault with the want of my wit and not of my affection. I perceive well that I unfold not my selfe cleere enough. But how or by what meanes can my discourse be lesse perturbed then my thoughts? Or how can I expresse that in order, which I conceive but confusedly. See; all that I can recollect most neate and intire is; That [...]nce my ill fortune hath brought me to be oblieged to Polexander, [...] passionately desire to be freed of it; but that which I wish more earnestly, is, if it could be brought to passe, that I were not at all engaged to him. Amintha, judging that to urge Alcidiana any more. was to cast her againe into her perplexities from whence she was scarce well gotten▪ It will be only your Majesties fault (said she) i [...] your wishes have not their full satisfaction. You are free, if you please, and if your ge­nerousnesse cannot consent to this imaginary requitall, you may satisfie Polexander at [Page 128] all times when you have a will to it. And that shall be instantlie (replied the Queene) with a countenance that witnessed her satisfaction, and in so saying, shee turned to the Pallace, sent for her chancellor, and made him seale a gift of the Principallitie which Syziphus sometime possessed. She with her owne hand filled up the blanks which shee expressie had caused to be left for a Name, and blushing at every letter she writ, made it be seene she had extremely constrained her selfe to finish the Name of Polexander. She did me the honour to be chosen to carrie you that Expedition. I presented it to you when you thought of nothing lesse; and I admired the Grace wherewith (after your refusall of so royall a Present) you accompanied that refusall with all the thanks, all the acknowledgments and all the submissions that the gift of some great Empire could exact from a minde extremely generous. The Queene, who (as I have told you) had beene extraordinarilie troubled at her engagements to you, was ten times more per­plexed when she knew that you would receive no recompence. She was alone when I presented her the Grant which you refused. The blood rose in her cheekes at it, and her extraordinary beauty, borrowing a new lustre from a red so sweete and lively, she appeared to me as beauty her selfe, environed with her lightnings, and holding in her hand the thunderbolts wherewithall she knowes how to humble the most insolent hearts, and overcome the most invincible. Sometimes shee stood to consider what I had brought her, and afterwards, lifting up her eyes and looking on me, and speak­ing with a contempt which was yet winning: What doth Polexander then hope for, since he hath refused that which might bound the desires of the most ambitious amongst men? I fell on my knees assoone as she began to speake: and extreamely desiring to answere her demand: Madam (said I) if your Majesty vouchsafes the least of your slaves the glory to speake to you, I will relate the very same words Polexander used, to make me knowe that he was unworthy of those extraordinary favours he receiv'd from your magnificence. And with that I held my peace; but the Queene commandig me to continue my discourse, I did it in these termes:

Sure Madam, it were needfull that either by miracle the stranger Prince had in­spired me with a part of his admirable qualities, or that he himselfe were here to re­present to your Majesty the graces and charmes with which he intymated to me the confusednesse whereinto your incomparable favours had thrown him. A hundred times he kissed the happy vellom, enrich'd by the name and portract of your Maje­sty, and testified even by some acts of adoration, that all that came from your Maje­sty, as well as your self having some participation with divinity ought to be considered with that reverence we beare to things coelestiall At last, when his admiration and ex­tasie ended and that he had recov [...]red his speech lost by the contemplation of your virtues. 'Twere fit (sayde he) deare and too-happy Pallantus, that my words were of an inestimable price, to have the merit to be imployed in that thankfullnesse which the wonderfull liberality of your divine Princesse exacts from my acknowledgment. But when I consider that there is no proportion, betwene vaine words and bene­fits, no lesse solid then eniment, my own shame ties my tongue, and forbids me, even those things which reason and duty command me: I would presently go and throw my selfe at her feet, to make her see the confusions and disorders of my minde; and to beseech her most humbly to receive as the actions of thanks the least unworthy that the greatnesse of her liberalities can expect from my resentment. But since it is a happynesse, which without a pride as monstrous as that of Siziphus, tis not permit­ted me to hope for: I entreat you Pallantus to imploy in my fauour the priviledges of your glorious servitude; and throwing your selfe for me at the feete of your di­vine Mistris, to assure her that the glory to have employed my arme in her service and the honour to be in her remembrance, are to me so high and pretious recompences; that the Crownes of the chiefest Kings of the world were not illustrious enough to be compar'd with them: Let her therefore (if sheep ease) desist from adding so many rewards one on another, and that by their number aswell as value, she do not reduce me to that necessity of not being able either to acknowledge or to support them. Go Pallantus, deliver back into the hands of her Majesty, these last tokens of her mag­nificence; and for feare least she impute that to pride which I doe out of a true know­ledge [Page 129] of my selfe; intimate to her that those things which seeme the most vast and the farthest extended, have bounds beyond which they cannot passe: and by con­sequence, that even ambition the most inregular, hath sometimes met with that which hath contented those insatiable desires which the possession of many worlds seemed not sufficient to have glutted. This verity being too wellknowne to be controver­ted; let her Majesty not disdeigne to let fall a looke on a wretched stranger, and understand that having never hoped for any thing from fortune, he findes himselfe now raised so high that he cannot without being dazled, looke on the bottom of that pr [...]pice whence her royall hand hath as it were miraculously drawne him. 'Tis then for want of power to possesse, or desire any thing more, that I must ne­cessarily remaine as I am, And therefore give her Majesty most humble thanks for those new, benefits which her unwearied magnificence sheds on me, and do it as I have now told you, not out of a vanity of refusing, but an incapacity of receiving them. Alcidiana not permitting me to say more: go (sayd she) and if you see Po­lexander againe tell h [...]m, that your Queen loves obedience better then adoration: I presen [...]ly arose, and knowing that the Princesses minde was not so calme as it had been some dayes before. I retir'd w [...]th an opinion that you had either offended her by your refusall, or you had much mov'd her by your generosity. Assoone as I was gon she sent for Amintha, and as I have understood from her selfe, recounting to her that you had refused Syziphus Principalitie, made use of the same tearmes which Iu­sed after you, to make her comprehend your conceptio [...]s. What a bu [...]inesse is this (said she) must a stranger come and tryumph over me in mine owne kingdome? And that a private man dispute of magnificence, and noblenesse with Alcidiana her selfe? Speake Amintha, and thinke not that I will longer endure, without revenge, the wrong you have done me. You were the first that spake to me of this Polexander, you gave me the curiositie to see him, you begot in me the desire to make use of his service, and at last to become indebted to him. I therefore absolutely command you to worke so, that I may owe him nothing, or that I may never thinke of it more. Amintha perceiving well t [...]at at the Queen was angry in good earnest: It those two things (said she) which your Majesty proposeth were equally in my power, you should presently bee obeyed. This Ins [...]lent who hath had the Front to refuse that which by a liberalitie without ex­ample you have deigned to offer him, should be for ever blotted out of your memory. But Madam, give me leave to tell you, that if you [...] Majesty will take the paines to la­bour on your part, as I will doe on mine; I dare assure you that before night, you shall not only be free, but even never more remember that there was ever any such man as Polexander in the world.

Be pleased then to give that into my hands which you gave in charge to Pallantus. I shall not be so complaisant as he hath beene, I will make Polexander know, 'tis not in his choyce to refuse that which your Majesty gives him, and that you have not cal­led him to your succour, as she would have done some Prince her Ally, who should have serv'd her for honour only, but that you employed him as a mercenary, to whom we use to give at the end of his labour, the Sallary that Wee thinke he hath deserved. This done, Madam, your Majesty must act the rest. Amintha hath often told me, that whilest she spoake so much against you, the Queene [...]lush'd twice or thrice, and was opening her lips, as if she would have taken your part; But yet she did nothing, but sending away Amintha, with an ea [...]ernesse that shewed enough what she would have hidden: Performe (said she) punctually that which you have promised me, for you know I use to ch [...]stize those that fayle in what they owe me. Amintha made a very lowe obeysance, and departed with a firme beleefe that Alcidiana, had not that perfect indifferency wherewith she had spoken to her some few daies before. You know bet­ter then I, the reasons she used to get you to accept the Principalitie of Syziphus: But I know better then you what Alcidianaes thoughts were, when she heard you had re­ceived it. What (said she, thinking no body heard her) it is not then the considerati­on of my Present that hath made him take it? 'Twere Aminthaes intreaties, that made him like of it? but I am overjoyed that my debt is so well acquitted, and that I have no more cause of obligation for this stranger. Amintha was in the right, to make him goe [Page 130] for a M [...]rcenary; certainly he is so, though he counterfeit the Generous, and I now know well, that hee refused at first the Salary for his paines, but only in hope to get more.

When she had said thus, she was silent; and after a great sigh, but how (said shee) shall I know that Amintha hath faithfully related to me those words, she said to him? Is it not to be beleeved, that to make him receive my Present, she hath told him, that twas my will he should give me that tryall of his obedience, and that 'twas by it alone that he could avoide my indignation? Your humilities (doubtlessely shee hath said to him) are artificiall vanities; you would be taken for one unworthy of a Gift, whic [...] [...]n your owne Conscience you thinke unworthy of you. You play the modest, when indeede you are the most ambitious, and (tis possible) you will not receive a [...] art [...]cause you thinke you deserve the whole. Be a little lesse jealous of your selfe, and [...]leeve, that how great soever your merit be, and of what importance soever the service you have done the Queene, the recompence she offers you is infinitely above both the one and the other. But I hold you too generous to stick at the estimation of what is offered you. If there be any thing great in this gift, if there bee any thing that ought to come neere your ambition, tis the dignity of the person that sends it you: Deliberate no more then on what you have to doe; for as tis impiety to refuse what the Gods give us, so is it insolency not to receive what is reached to us by the hand of a King, Alcidi­ana would be out of your debt. Bee not so overweening to wish that she should bee still beholding: in a word be assured, that your offence shall not be lesse prodigious then that of Syziphus if you persevere in your refusall. Pride hath beene the losse of his Prin­cipallity, let the same thing make you refuse it; howsoever Alcidiana will bee obeyed. Dare you have the impudence to gainsay it? See the reasons (continued the Queene, raysing her voice) that Amintha hath made use of to winne Polexander to receive my Present: and if it be so, as I doubt not of it, why should I give that to Aminthaes intrea­ties which is only due but to the merit of my Gift? But whence come these disquiets on me? What matters it whether my Present or Amintha hath acquitted me? One way or other I am so, and Polexander is to me too indifferent to desire from him that which I never asked from any one of those whom my benevolences have enriched. See what the discourse was which the Queene thought she had by her selfe: Tis your part now to give it the interpretation it may receive without wresting. But what comfort soe­ver it brings you, keepe it to your selfe for this time, for at the least diversion you throw athwart my memory, many things will escape it, which might serve you for excellent remedies against those ills that afflict you.

Two dayes passed after this, during which time the Queene lived as if you had beene wholly blotted out of her memory. Amintha came to her with her wonted assiduitie, and tryed divers waies to get her to speake of you, but all in vaine; for Alcidiana a­voyding those occasions with her incomparable dexterity, made this wise confident beleeve that she was resolved to treate you with the same scorne as till then shee had used all other men. Whilest these two rare wits did what they could to deceive one a­nother; the news of the famous combat betwixt your selfe and the brother of Syziphus came to the Pallace. It was told the Queene with such circumstances, and to you so honourable, that all the hearts of the Court declar'd themselves for you, and twas who could finde best words to expresse most, the admiration he had of your valour and wor­thinesse. The Queene her selfe was constrayned to breake the vow she had made, and to speake once more of you. 'Tis to be confessed (said she alowde) that this stranger hath a great deale of good fortune. Amintha that would not lose so faire an occasion to know the cause of Alcidianaes long silence; Your Majesty (said she) hath good reason to esteeme Polexander happy, since all things happen to him so favourably. But whosoever considers well the demeanour of this Prince, will confesse that he himselfe is the Author of his good fortune, and that the blinde chance of armes, and that rash and inconsiderate divinity, to whom we give the glory all that happens extraordinari­ly, cannot be boasted of, with any justice, to governe the actions of Polexander, nor to place on his head the Lawrels wherewith he is crowned. Amintha ended this discourse just when the great Chamberlaine of Alcidiana sent her word that he was to advertise [Page 131] her of your Combat, and to present her a Letter from you. The Queene went thence into the Chamber where she was used to give audience, and followed by all those rare beauties wherewith her private Court was composed, seated her selfe in that Throne shining with gold and precious stones wherein she was plac'd the second time you had the honour to see her. The high-Chamberlayne was straight admitted, and kneeling at the foote of the Throne, related to the Queene the manner of your Combat, and then presented the Letter you had written to her. The Queene commanded Amintha to take it, and turning to her Chamberlayne: I will see (said she to him) what the stranger hath written, and he shall know my pleasure. In the meane while (said shee smiling) intimate to him that his good fortune makes me jealous, and that if he goe on, hee wil make me so farre indebted that all my fortune will not be sufficient to furnish me where­withall to acquit me. As for you Sarpedon, I doe not prescribe to you those things that are in your charge, I beleeve you too well know of what value Polexanders acti­ons are, to entertaine him as a common person. When she had said this, Alcidiana a­rose, and returning into her Cabinet with none but Amintha: Let's see (said shee to her) what Polexander hath writ to us. We shall infallibly know by this Letter, that hee is not much exempt from vanity as you would have me imagine. He was surely afraid that we should not heare of his Combat, or that the honour he got in it could not bee well related to us, if it were not done by himselfe. Amintha hath often told mee that she had an infinite desire to reply to the Queenes speech, but being confident that your Letter would make a better Answere, she unsealed it to give an end to the reproaches [...]f my faire Princesse, and gave it to her all broken open. The Queene tooke it, and presently giving it her againe commanded her to reade it. Imagine Polexander, if she were slowe to execute that commandement. She read your Letter, and stopping at all things that made it appeare how much Alcidiana was deceived, brought her to that point to beleeve that she extemporarily compos'd the submissions and humilities that were expressed therein.

She snatched it out of my hands, and would reade it her selfe, hoping to finde it in some what to convince you of vanitie, and Amintha of falshood. But seeing nothing there that was not to your advantage. Why (said she somewhat angred) should not this man be made as all others? I confesse Amintha my beleefe hath wronged his virtue. But who would have thought that this stranger, being young, fayre, valiant, victorious, should be uncapable of vaine-glory. For mine owne part, I hold it for a prodigie, and not being able to be wonne from my first opinion, I imagine yet that Polexanders ex­treme humilities want not their pride, and that the utmost of his vanitie is, to strive not to have it discernd. Your Majesty, answered Amintha, is too just to oppose, or con­ [...]ost with a known truth, and to desire, that because a man appeares to bee extreamely innocent, he should therefore be exceedingly guilty. But why doe I strive to make that seen to your Majesty which incomparably you discerne better then my selfe? That which you feigne to beleeve, is but a turne of your good wit, and a signe that as often as you please, you can make humility taken for arrogance, valour for cowardize, and changing the face and constitution of things, bestow foulenesse and beauty, according as the force of your eloquence intends to obliege or damnity. I jest no [...] (said Alcidiana) and if I had that absolute power which your ingenious flattery gives mee, I should not have so much injustice to imploy it to so ill purposes. I have beleev'd that Polexan­der was a man, and I thinke so still; and therefore cannot consider him but with those weakenesses where withall the condition of men is accompanied. Were Polexander (replyed Amintha) so happy as to defend his owne cause, hee would very hum [...]ly be­seech your Majesty to be a little lesse cleare sighted then you are, and to imitate the e­ternall justice, who never condemned a crime that was never committed. 'Tis possible Madam, that Polexander hath none of those faults which your Majesty supposeth; but if he have not beene so much favoured by Nature as other men, is it not a great deale of glory to him to have surmounted those vices that should have overcome him? or at least to keepe them so well concealed, that the eyes of envy it selfe are not penetrating e­nough to discover them? Your Majesty doubtlesly will beleeve that I am too obstinate in the defence of a man that is almost altogether unknowne to me, and the love of vir­tue [Page 132] is not the sole motive, that makes me wave my respect and complying. I most hum­bly yet beseech you, not to have that ill opinion of me, and to beleeve, that I will al­wayes forsake Polexanders part, provided that you suffer me not to abandon that of verity. Let it be the love of virtue or of the vertuous (replied Alcidiana smiling) that makes you so generous, I will never condemne the conceptions that so faire and high a passion gives you; and to witnesse how much they are in my esteem, I would have them advise me what I ought to doe for Polexander: If your Majesty, said Amintha, speak in good earnest, and would doe me the honour to beleeve your intentions which have your fame and content for their chiefe and last object: I engage my selfe to finde you a moderation by which you shall preserve that advantage which you have over the grea­test Kings of the earth, and send home Polexander with an eternall obligation to fill the world with the renowne of your bounty and magnificence. You shall be beleev'd, an­swered the Queene, speake therefore, and speake what you thinke in your conscience you are bound to.

The honour (replied Amintha) which your Majesty hath done me, being considered, I should not be dutifull if I were silent: Nay, I should be disobedient. I will therefore speake, since it is your pleasure; and tell you, that the proofes of your liberality shewed to Polexander, should have filled him with admiration of your bounty. You have there­fore me more to expediate but to let him know, that you are no lesse good then great. Sixe lines from your owne hand may make him beleeve this, and force him by a milde constraint, (even then when he shall be capable of envy or ingratitude) to praise eter­nally your excesse of bounty, and make you honoured by all Nations that have any ve­neration for vertue. But what should we write to him (said Alcidiana?) 'Tis not for so poore a wit as mine (replied Amintha) to give advice in a matter of this importance. It is for your owne, Madam, to furnish your Majesty with thoughts and words worthy your selfe. It hath embellishments and heights not to be met withall in other wits, and will cause that by one same and miraculous effect, you shall imprint in Polexanders minde, an admiration and love of your vertue, and make him blesse the obliging testi­monies of your bounty. Alcidiana won by these faire words, sent for a Cabinet, where­of she had the key, and taking thence what she needed, writ a letter which I will re­peat, because you never saw it. I knew it by the meanes of Amintha, who gave it me some few daies after (with the writing tables, whereof I will shortly tell you more. These were the words.

The Queen Alcidiana to Polexander, twice a Conquerour.

IF in your Combats you have sought for nothing but the glory to be esteemed of Alcidiana, be confident that there wants nought of your victory. Your valour is no lesse considered of her then it hath been advantagious to her. She confesseth she ows you her Crowne and that even her life was not secured if you had not taken on you the defence of it. But she stayes not there, she is compelled by the power of your vertue, to confesse yet something more. Tis, that she is not absolutely grieved that she hath been unfortunate since Fortune reserved Polexander to be her deliverer.

After she had ended this letter, she read it to her confident, and after became so red out of shame, that she was faine to hide her face with the letter it selfe. When this con­fusion was over, the Queen seemed to be angry. And accusing Amintha, as if she had dictated that which the Queen had written to you: See (said she) what it is to beleeve a roole. We cannot chuse but fall into some extravagancy. Truly Amintha, I finde you very pretty and merry to wish me to flatter Polexander. I see well that if I continue to follow your counsell, at last I shall finde my selfe compelled to love him: and after she had said thus, she tore the letter in peeces, and commanded Amintha to burne it be­fore [Page 133] her. Amintha gathered the letter, and in lieu of throwing it in the fire, by her nimblenesse cast in another paper she had in her pocket. The while Alcidiana having drained her anger, and Amintha shewing by her silence, how much she was grieved at it; I am in the wrong (said the Queene to her) and will henceforward know well how to distinguish between those faults I doe my selfe, and those I commit by the advice of others: I am only guilty of the latter, and am resolved too to chastise that most severe­ly: But I will deferre it till I have given satisfaction to Polexander in what he expects of my acknowledgement. Shee with these words tooke the pen againe, and writ to you a letter which I never saw. Give mee leave Pallantus (said our Heroë after he had interrupted him) that I recite that deare & pretious letter to you, & let you know by the difference there is between it, & the Declaration that ensued from that height of happi­nesse, the anger of your divine Queen precipitated me. This letter is not of the same stile with that you repeated to me; Nor is your other then a dreame, and this a reality. Hearken Pallantus, and admire what the most faire and perfect hand of the world hath vouchsafed to take the pains to write to me.

The Queen Alcidiana to the stranger Polexander.

YOu aske my pardon for your taking Armes for me; but it is I that should demand it from you, since my interests have [...]o often made you run the hazard of your life. But you are too generous to suffer Alcidiana to put her selfe into the state of a Petitioner; and she is not so void of reason to condemne a valour which hath made her triumph over her enemies. Enjoy in peace the glory you have gotten since you have neglected all other advantages; and doe not beleeve that Alcidiana shall be alwaies so unfortunate, but that she may as much oblige you as you have her now engaged.

Polexander had no sooner ended the repetition of this letter, but that his sighs pres­sing on one another, almost tooke away his breathing; and if the particularities which Pallantus had learned him, had not given him some strength to support that violent fit of love and sorrow, he had infallibly been suffocated. At last, his sighs made themselves way, and issuing one after another gave him the liberty of speech. Presently he looked on Pallantus, and witnessing to him a joy mixt with sadnesse, and a troubled and un­quiet satisfaction: is it possible said he, Pallantus, that he which hath received so great a testimony of Alcidiana's goodnesse, can live after the sentence of death which she hath pronounced against him? It must be possible to him, answered Pallantus, and reserving himselfe for some unknowne happinesse, that he judge of Alcidiana's intentions with the same reverence and feare that a religious soule should have for the will of heaven. But keep your ward you gave me Polexander, and suspend your contents and vexati­ons till I have ended that which I know of the thoughts of my faire Princesse. Polex­ander casting downe his eyes, and even not daring to speake a word, witnessed that he had a perfect resignation for those things that concerned the honour of Alcidiana. Pallantus admired this incomparable submission, and thus continued his discourse: The Queen had no sooner given Amintha the letter you repeated to me, but she thought she had done an act that was not equivalent with the others of her life. She sent me to runne after her confident with a command to come to her instantly. Amintha obeyed; but Alcidiana was not satisfied with it, for you had already received her letter, and wit­nessed by your answer, that it was a farre greater fortune to you then Sisiphus Principa­lity, Alcidiana not daring to make shew but of one part of her displeasure, shee was so much a shamed of what she had done. I would (said she to Amintha) that I had added the halfe of my Crowne to the Principality of Sysiphus, so that Polexander had not the letter which you have made me write to him, I know sufficiently (replied Amintha) the obedience, that Prince is ready to yeeld to your Majesties commands, to assure you that if you thinke him not worthy to keep so pretious a thing, he will come and throw himselfe at your feet to beseech you to take it againe, and call backe those favours [Page 134] which you have too liberally communicated to him. The remedy (answered Alcidi­ana) which you propose to me may well cure the wound I have given my selfe, but it can never take away the scarre. I would say that you might well get mee the Letter which Polexander hath received from me, but it is not in your power to make it so that he hath not had it. I feare not his vanity, but his memory, and whilest that hath a being yet should I not be freed of my feare, though I had that which you might pro­mise me. Let him enjoy then that acknowledgment of the services he hath done mee, and hence forward let us have no more commerce with him, then with Spanyards and other strangers, which some tempest or chance hath sometimes throwne on our Coastes. You were then by this command, as it were, buried in the memories of those that loved you. But it was only in shew, for in effect you lived there in spight of all Inhibitions.

Alcidiana first violating her Lawes, entertayned her selfe with you alone; and thinking to remove out of her fancy and Idea that discontented her not but in that it seemed too pleasing to her; perceived not that her thoughts and the intention of her thought were directly contra [...]y. At the same (as you know) the winning Cephalus Prince of the blo [...]d of Alcidiana, and her publique adorer, proclaimed a Turney, to which your courage and judgement, furnished you with that admirable meanes, by which, it was permitted you to fight with Cephalus without offending Alcidiana. You conserv'd [...]o him the honour, which your incomparable dexterity, or to speake more conformably to your passion and my duty, which the weakenesse of Cephalus might have made him lose. This new victory brought new disquiets on the Queene, and made her knowe that it was in vaine for her to essay to acquit her selfe towards you. The very evening that the justs ended, she shut her up with Amintha, and beginning a­new what a moneth of silence had interrupted. See us now (said she) in worse case then before. I thought Polexander had beene in my debt, and I finde my selfe behinde­hand with him, more then I am able to pay him. Were I answerable for no more then for my kingdome and liberty, I have both to give him satisfaction: But since hee hath preserved to me the honour which rash Cephalus had hazarded, can I acknowledge that great service but by the thinge it selfe which he hath preserved? And if that must be, what will become of the wretched Alcidiana? Canst thou live deprived of that glory which thy predecessors left thee, and which thou maist say without boasting, was gotten thee by the practise of all the virtues? Amintha seeing the Princesse griefe to be so excessive that it drew teares from her eyes, was very much moved at it, and forget­ting your interests for those of her good Mistresse. Your Majesty (said she) must not any longer suffer a sicknesse which insensibly gets on the hea [...]t, and may become dead­ly if in time there be not applied to it fire and sword. I was the first that neglected it, since I thought it not considerable, but now I know its greatnesse, and foresee what may ensue, I am the first that runne for remedies, and throwing my selfe at the feete of your Majesty, humbly to beseech you to employ all and not to reject the most violent.

The honour I have to be intrusted with your secrecies, forbids mee to have other consideration then of you, and I cannot bee silent without sinning against that Sove­raigne lawe, which commands me to expose my life for the safety of your Majesty. The innocent and faire Alcidiana hearing Amintha speake so seriously, thought her self ill of some ex [...]reame dangerous sicknesse; and feare which commonly accompanies ig­norance, bringing on her extraordinary troubles and disquiets, shee fell on Aminthaes neck, wet her face with her teares, and conjured her by her friendshippe to give her such advice as might be most safe for her. Heale said she a malady of which in some sort you have beene the cause. I finde it more troublesome then grievous, but you know it better then I, and I had rather trust my selfe to your experience then to mine owne feelings. Let us therefore be industrious Amintha in a businesse so urgent, and not putting off our cure to the succour that may come with time, let us try all those meanes that heaven hath put into our power. Amintha judging, by this discourse, that the Queene knew nothing at all of her sicknesse, or to speake more truly that she had no o­ther ill, but that which was begot by that high and imperious humor in which she was [Page 135] bred, saw well that it was not necessary to urge your depart, nor to make your stay suspected. She therefore insensibly diverted Alcidianaes feares and resolutions, and repenting what her affection had made her say against you, assured the Princesse that you had not undertaken to combat with Cephalus, but with the same intention that he had done the justs: that was, you had a resolution to make your skill and gallantrie appeare, and not to engage the honour of the Princesse. And that you expected no o­ther repute then that which is gotten by the like exercises. Cephalus (said shee) had published that you were the fairest Princesse in the World. Hee tooke armes to main­taine it against all those that professe to love what is fayre. Polexander would rayse the price upon him more then he. He therefore maintained against him, his armes in his hand, that you were yet somewhat more then the other imagined, and the successe of the justs hath made it seene that his proposition was true. What doe you thinke Madam, that you owe him for it? Nothing, but what the Sunne owes them that call him the Author of life, the Father of light, and the fayrest of all inannimate Creatures.

If Polexander had beene suddainly changed into some other, and become so vaine to looke for a reward after this last Combat; it should be then from the truth which he hath defended and not from you that he was to expect it. Set your minde then at rest, and driving farre from your fayre Soule those thoughts that disturbe it, hold it for an infallibility that your Majesty cannot be beholding to any one, since the honour to serve you is so great a recompence to those that doe it, that they are payd for all their services, even before they have begun them. The Queene whose extreme youth could not afford her those experiments that Amintha had gathered by the benefit of more yeeres, felt her selfe no lesse peacefull and at rest after the second discourse of her Con­fident, then the first had put her out of order. She then rested her minde in its first seate, and retayning no other thoughts for you then she had for other Princes, was glad to giue you occasion to abide in her Court, and by your presence, obliege her people to stifle for ever all causes of revolting. After that resolution two or three moneths slid away, during which time you had often the honour to see the Queene, and obtayned by your submission and respects, the liberty to talke with her. This happinesse had la­sted longer with you, if you had had the power to conceale yet your designe and pas­sion. But this pleasant commerce broke off by the Petition you made her, to be recei­ved into the number of her slaves. I shall remember as long as I live the speech that the knowing Radiotez made to the Princesse to dispose her to bee gracious unto you. He seemed to love you well, since his cleere judgement that made him penetrate into things the most hidden, being as it were veyled by the excesse of his love; made him not perceive your intention, but did the utmost of his wit and esoquence to force Alci­diana to put you amongst her flaves. There is no condition (said hee) in Polexander that should obliege your Majesty to deny him the chaynes he requesteth. He is young, fayre, valiant, and wise: and those were the foure qualities that the late King your fa­ther desired in those that should be chosen to enter into your Majesties particular ser­vice. You will say he is a Prince, and a stranger: but after the examples of Orantus and Pallantus, who are French-men of Don Ferdinand a Spanyard, and of the Infant Cleonida Prince of Portugall, your Majesty cannot with justice refuse the humble sup­plication of Polexander, under pretext that he is a Prince and a stranger. On the con­trary these two titles, joyned with the considerations that you have to esteeme him, ought to be powerfull enough to make you dispence with the force of Lawes, if there were any that should forbid you to receive for your slaves Princes and Strangers. Thinke with your selfe, that all Rebells and Ambitious are not dead with Syzip [...]s. That there may occasions arise wherein your Majesty may have neede of personages extreamly faithfull, and as farre generous; and in whom will you finde more loyaltie and valour, then in him that offers himselfe to enter into your service, and by conse­quence not to be able ever to be absent from your person, nor bee separated from that which concernes you?

Alcidiana interrupting Radiotez: Father (said shee) I pretend not to overcome you eyther by virtue of my Eloquence or reasons. I know too well your abilities to [Page 136] contest with you; but I may gaine by my obstinacy what I cannot by my perswasions, I beleeve with you, that all things concurre to give Polexander a place amongst my Slaves; but at the same time I know not what interiour motion forbids me to receive him. Let it suffice that I keepe him in my service by his owne worthinesse, It is need­lesse that hee should bee engaged eyther by his particular vowes, or his publique fetters.

The good Radiotez, had nothing to reply to this answere, and was enforced to carry you the news of this misterious refusall. I know with what griefe you heard it, and the resolutions you tooke thereupon, but if you had beene lesse blinded by your passion, you might have seene through that apparant disgrace, how reall and great the favours were that she gave you cause to hope for. This is but to tell you of things without art or dis­sembling; Alcidiana had some particular good will towards you. I have already told you, that men should not pretend to the glory of her love. I repeate it not to anger you, but for an advertisement, not to promise your selfe any other recompence for your ser­vice then the happinesse to have done it for the most deserving Princesse in the world. It may be you will aske me how I know that Alcidiana hath no inclination[?] to you, and why I conjecture that her troubles, melancholy, and disquiets (which are infallible signes of Love in all other women) are not so in that Princesse, you may learne it from the writing tables where of I late spoke to you. Many moneths passed after you had lost the hope to be one of the Queenes sl [...]ves; and the splendour and joy of your justs, your Masques and other matches had been passed over by the sadnesse of your thoughts, more black then the mourning you have taken: When Amintha discovered that Alci­diana had not altogether blotted you out of her memory. You remember the strange accident that betided her in the Forrest of White-Hindes. Her hunting Chariot was violently drawne a way by the wildnesse of her horses, and happily overturned some twenty paces[?] from a precipice, whither they were running to cast a way all. You found the Queene as dead, so violent was her fall, and so made her to be carried to the Pallace. Amintha had not so ill fortune; she was hurt[?], but it had not taken her sences from her. By chance, as she arose, she found a payre of writing tables covered with Diamonds, and having never seene them with the Queene, did not imagine that they were hers. She put them up and car [...]ied them to the Pallace with her Mistresse. After the Princesse was come to her selfe, and had assured all about her that she had no hurt: Amintha withdrew to her lodging, and meditating[?] long time on your complaints, on your swounding, and the desperatenesse[?] you shewed for the death of Alcidiana, she remem­bred the table-booke which she had found, and desirous to see if there were nothing within that might tell her the name of the person that had lost it: Shee was informed by the first leafe, finding ther a peece of limming representing a Phoenix which is (as you know) Alcidianaes device. But I shall doe better to shew you the very tables, then to tell you the secrets contayned in it.

And in saying so, Pallantus drew them out of his pocket, and delivering them into the hands of our Heroë, tooke a picture of Alcidiana, which hee alwaies carried with him, and kept his eyes fixed on it whilest Polexander[?] abode consulting with leaves more misterious then those of the antient Sybills. The first thing this Lover did after he had received that fatall booke, was, to kisse the rich covering, and to intimate by the respect he bore to the outside of the Temple, how great the veneration was where­withall he came neere to the divinity that was therein worshipped. Hee opened the Tables, and presently met with the lymming which Pallantus spoke of. Hee saw that unparrallelld Bird, that owes not his byrth to[?] any but it selfe, to dispute beauty with the Sun himselfe, and oppose to the beames of that starre, the golden fethers where with it was crowned. The Word that was added to so fayre a body, had an exceeding grace in his owne language. See how ours hath wrongd it in the explication. My life shall exceede my byrth. After that Polexander had well considered this Device, and searched[?] over all, whither there were not some Cypher or Character from whence he might draw any cause of consolation, he turned the leafe, and in the three following read[?] the words that follow.

The Disquiet.

VVHat could cause the strange alteration I finde in my selfe? Can I bee sick or mad without knowing it? Within this little while I am ill wheresoever I am. If I walke I am presently weary. The places I delighted in, I cannot now endure. Hunting is odious to me, conversation troublesome, and those well beloved bookes wherein I have met my content and joy, can doe nothing towards the appeasing my disease. Of what crime can my Conscience accuse me that might drawe on me these too visible and too violent effects of the wrath of heaven? But suppose I had commit­ted some one that deserved to be punished, must it be by a punishment so cruell and so unknowne? O avenging Angell, that indifferently executest the commands of thy Master! tell me at least, what is the torment thou makest me suffer. The greatest offen­ders have in their tortures the comfort to know them, as they have the misery to feele them. Ixion is not ignorant of his wheele, nor Syziphus of his Stone. Titius sees the Vulture that teares out his Bowells, and Tantalus hath the content to gaze on the fruits and the water that flies from him. I alone suffer, without the knowledge of what I suf­fer. What helpe should I implore? What succour can I expect? if it bee impossible to tell my sicknesse, or to knowe whether it be the minde or the body that languisheth. But whilest I speake my griefes[?] increase. They are enemies to discourse, and yet permit me not to be silent.

Polexander sighed often ere he ended reading, and asking of himselfe whether hee were cause of these troubles: 'Tis pride for me to be perswaded so (said he) and ther­fore I must beleeve it a folly to punish my selfe for it. But whosoever he bee, barba­rous, and traytor, which respecteth not Alcidianaes peace, he shall finde that I am as cruell as invincible, when the businesse is to avenge that Princesse. After hee had en­ded these threats, which only Love could justifie, he continued his search, and passing over two or three blank leaves, he met with this that ensues.

The Dreame.

INfortunate that I am; I have lost my breath and strength. I can no more. All my stri­vings are in vaine. My intents and resistings are to no purpose. Cruell and pleasing Enemy; Dragon, that hast the face of an Infant; faire Monster, content thee with my teares, and with the blood that thy pawes have drawne out of my breast. Give not o­ver to rende it wider: What, art thou not yet glutted? Thou pullest out my heart, and thy nayles instead of tearing it, covers it over with wounds that burne it. Conti­nue not thy fury, seeke some other prey. Wilt thou have me die more then once, and not meete in my Grave the repose that all others finde there? Alas! I live, and thou leavest not to kill mee; because thou art not weary of afflicting me. What doest thou? thou closest up my breast, and 'tis not my heart that thou leav'st there, but a fire that burnes and doth not consume me.

[Page 138] O Love! cryed Polexander, in finishing this Dreame, how fayre would thy victory be if it were true! Alcidiana gives way to thee when she is a sleepe, but she tryumphs over thee when she is awake. She is a flame when she dreames, but in verity shee is nought but ice. Miserable Polexander what must thou hope, or what must become of t [...]ee? Yet comfort thy selfe, 'Tis better that faire Princesse should love nothing, then love any other then thee. Pallantus smiled to himselfe to heare these exclamations, and continuing his glorious employment, left our lover to his; who turning over the last leafe of the Dreame saw this that followeth.

The awaking.

VVHat is become of that fierce & pleasing dragon which all night tore my heart? but what sayd I? I am awake, and I speak as if I yet talked idlely. My ima­gination is not yet well purg'd of those illusions that have done it so much hurt. She makes me carry my hand where I thought I had been wounded; I feele if my side be not opened, and whether my heart be in his right place. I finde no alteration in my selfe, and my feares are as false as my griefes. Children of darkenesse, little De­mons, by what unperceiveable wayes slippe yee into our fancyes? Get ye from my bed. Me thinks where ever you go you carry fire, and would fayne new-kin­dle that which my dream blew in my brest. But you are vanish'd, inflamed Atomes, and the day dispelling your lights as it doth the other tapers of night, tells me that you are nothing but the effects of my Melancholly. Returne no more, and you dismall dreames, be yee alwaies the representers of what is passed, but become not the presa­gers of what is to come.

If the Teares and Prayers of Lovers (cryed Polexander) are as pleasing to you, ô yee Dreames! as the Poppy, Mandragoras and blood of beasts, that made you lately so favorable, doe not hearken to Alcidiana. Her conjurations are powerfull, but resist yee their charmes. They will else ruine the Empire of Love and overthrowe the Altars which are there consecrated to you. But I blaspheme, and offend a Divinity greater then you. No, no, let Alcidiana be obeyed, and let her be eternally insensible. 'Tis fit that all men should be miserable, rather then to suffer that Alcidiana should bee displea­sed. After he had said thus, he went on to turne over the leaves, and saw in one page sometimes halfe blotted out, 'twas long before hee could gather any thing out of it, at last he read this fragment:

—er. Why doth that name thrust it selfe more often, and more pleasingly into my remembrance, then so many others that are more deare unto mee?—Yet 'twere nothing if—But I recall it, when he goes hence, and—hath he any charme, or some harmony that makes him more sweete to the eare then—I must confesse, others cannot be pronounced with so much pleasure, nor remembred with so much facility. What say'st thou foole?—and since this Stranger is so—indifferent [...] let his name be so too.

[Page 139] How I hate thee fragment (said Polexander to himselfe) for not being imperfect enough. Thou hast two Letters too much, and the fayre Alcidiana hath not left them, but to intimate that my name is farre more blotted out of her memory, then out of this leafe. I must not doubt of it, but if I should so much flatter my selfe, as to imagine it to be some other name then mine which Alcidiana hath written; doe I not see by the conclusion of her Sentments—that I am the miserable stranger, for whom shee is so much indifferent. Yet let's on, and see to how many tortures her insensibilitie will condemne us. With that hee turned the other leafe, and sawe this beginning of a Letter:

To Amintha.

HOw angry are the eyes of your Polexander? All the while I was in the Temple they were fixed on mine. The presence of those dreadfull Mysteries, that hold the hearts, or at least the eyes of the least devout—turn'd to the Altars, was not powerfull enough to drawe thither those impious bold ones. I complaine to you of it, because that Stranger consults more religiously with you then with the gods. Give him more respectfull regards—and forbid him that he—

You ought (divine Alcidiana) cried Polexander, you ought to forbid mee to live, rather then to impose on me impossible conditions, and command that my understand­ing knowing its happinesse, should become a Tyrant to it selfe, even to enjoyne my will not to desire it. But you have beene more just, and suppressing the bloody Lawes which your rigour had invented, you have dispenced with us for the necessity of obser­ving them. He continued his reading after hee had made this reflection, and met cer­taine words by which Alcidiana had expressed her thoughts in looking in her glasse. They were these:

Doest thou know thy self well Alcidiana? These eyes afflicted and languishing; this complexion, so unlike what it hath alwaies beene; these pale lips; this leaden breast; in briefe, this dying person which thou seest in this glasse, hath it any thing of that thou lookst for? Confesse that Alcidiana is no more, but that she lost her selfe, when shee lost the peace of he [...] minde. The cruell Demon that changed her heart, not only alte­red her countenance, but disfigured it in such sort, that 'tis no wonder if thou knowest it not. Doe not accuse the glasse to be lesse true then twas wont. It is still the same it was, but thou art not what thou hast beene: Call againe dead Alcidiana, make the two last yeeres of thy life to returne againe; in a word, rayse thy selfe (if it be possible) out of the grave wherein thy errors have buried thee, and by what is passed thou maist judge of the present. But witlesse as thou art, it seemes thou art pleased in thine ill for­tune. Thou inwardly comfortest thy selfe with thy losses. Thou findest allurements in thy alteration; and since thy glasse doth not flatter thee, thou endeavorest to flatter thy selfe. Breake this charme, unfortunate Princesse, and know thy sicknesse is at the height since thou art insensible of it.

[Page 140] Polexander, after he had read this, knowing not whether he should complaine on himself or some other, yet neglected not to declare him for Alcidiana, and to sweare in­wardly the death of the Author of so many disquiets. Hee turned then another leafe and found this:

The Reflection.

TO whom should I attribute the cause of my malady? Shall I accuse the starres or men, or mine owne temper? What ill influence could insensibly ruine the vigour of my fayrest yeeres? Shall I beleeve that some Sorcerer by the power of his Cha­racters or venome of his lookes, his fascination hath impoysoned my heart, and by lit­tle and little drawes my life from me? My temper seemes not to mee any way altred, though my disposition be changed, and by consequence it is not the Author of my Suf­ferings. Shall I say tis my Melancholly? But that being the very ill I endure, I should then make the effect guilty of the malignity of the cause. But may it not bee Love? If Radiotez have not deceived me, tis impossible that my disease should come from that passion. How often hath he assured me that Love came from desire? and if it be so, I am not in Love, or else in Love with all persons in the World. For all fayre objects give me the same desires. I looke on the heavens with admiration; I number the Starres with a ravishment. I delight in the diversitie of floures, of fruites, and all li­ving creatures. But of all these, there is not any one which I wish to enjoy more par­ticularly then I now possesse it. What is then the cause of my griefe? Alas how can I know it, since I have not this ill but because I am ignorant of it?

Dye Pol [...]xander and give over at last to suffer thy selfe to be deceiv'd by false hopes (said our Heroë): Not only Alcidiana hath my love, but the heavens and the earth, men and beasts, are all to thee as one same object. Griefe here hindred his farther speech. Yet stopped him not from pursuing his farther inquiry. Hee was almost at the end of the tables when he found this:

The Anger.

HOw I hate thee, perfidious Amintha, to print againe in my thought the name of thy Polexander. Since these eight dayes, there hath not a moment passed, but this troublesome name hath mixed it selfe with my meditations. It persecutes mee by day, and in the night it permits me not to take my rest. If I call any one of my slaves, would I name any other, eyther Citizen or Stranger, my tongue following the error of my i­magination will pronounce that Polexander. Some times it speakes it halfe, and every foote I am forced to stay it, for feare of continuing in this mistake.

O Name of Polexander (said our Heroë) more fortunate then Polexander himselfe I [Page 141] hast thou not so much charitie, to impart some of thy happinesse to him without whom thou canst not bee? I conceive thy answere deare Name. But my little merit suffers me not to beleeve it; nor my respect, to entertayne my selfe with it. And with these words turned to the last leafe of the Tables, and there met with this:

The last Resolution.

IT must be so. I am resolved of it, audacious Stranger. Thou shalt out of my memo­ry as well as of my Territories. The more thou hast sought for occasions to appeare amiable, the more cause hast thou given me to make thee hated. I hate thee because I have run the hazard to love thee. I wish that an eternall punishment avenge me of the crime thou wouldst have committed. The Sentence, for it is pronounced; Traytor as he is; Hee shall not vaunt unpunished, to have essayed by virtue of his submissions and services, to establish his dangerous Tyrrany.

Thou mightst well doubt (unhappy Polexander cryd our Heroë;) that the last calme, should be followed by a great tempest. Thou hast not long time sayled, but to be ship wrack'd, and the end of thy Navigation must be that of thy hopes. Deli­berate no longer, after thy condemnation; leave to live in leaving to hope. Yet not so. Preserve thy life, since thy divine Alcidiana wills, that thou indure as much as thou art capable to suffer.

When Polexander had shut up the table booke, and made a new reflection on his fortune, he knew but too well that Alcidiana's last Sentments—had ruined the little hope which the former had given him. He turned his eyes pittifully on Pallan­tus redilivering his booke, and would signifie unto him the excesse of his despaire. But Pallantus prevented him, and sayd, he wonder'd infinitely that he would per­severe to afflict himselfe amidst so many causes of joy. Ah Pallantus (answered the Prince) I know tis too much honour for me to be remembred in any way whatsoe­ver by Alcidiana. My Judgement avowes it, but my passion will not. I have such desires as perpetually struggle with my reason, and when I would force them not to go beyond the limitts she prescribes them, they boldly take armes against us both, and their insolencyes go so farre, that they even think to doe us a great favour when they use us but as slaves. Teach me (dear Pallantus) what my reason and I should do to get us the Mastery since thou wilt not have us give way to their tyranny. Per­sever in that feare and adoration which till now you have witnessed for Alcidiana (answered Pallantus.) Be not weary of suffering; and leave to your desires that ab­solute Empyre they have usurp'd over your reason. They will be of a different nature from ordinary desires, if time, opposition, and despaire do not weaken their impe­tuosity. Ah! Remedyes more cruell and insupportable then the ill it selfe (saide Polexander)! Am I brought to that extremity to make use of you? yes insensible friends, I receive and imbrace you, since you are so happy to have the resentments of Alcidiana for the Authors of your being. Pallantus, heere imposing him silence: Be pleas'd (sayd he) that I end the history of your disfavours, and that finally I banish you from the place wherein is inclos'd all your hopes and happinesses. Polexander replying nothing gave occasion to the faire slave to continue thus his discourse: Your sorrow, solitude, and your complaints having too long lasted for your quiet; Amin­tha resolv'd to have pitty on you, and to redeeme you from you despaire by false hopes. You followed her advice, and suffring your selfe to be easily perswaded to what you so extreamly desired; you began againe your illustrious and magnificent way of living, whereby you had acquir'd the affections of the most part of Alcidiana's [Page 142] subjects. She understood of your returne, and wanting sufficient knowledge of world­ly affaires to judge of the [...]rue cause of your change; she called for Amintha to discourse with her about it. I thought (said she) that having hitherto made a particular pro­fession of friendshipp with Polexander; you are not ignorant of those causes which he hath had heretofore to afflict himselfe, and those he hath now to rejoyce in. I honour Polexander (replied Amintha) but I have no part in his trust. Yet not so that I am ignorant of that which your Majesty desires to know. His griefe and joy are too publick to make a secret of them. Every one speakes of it, and if it be not known to your Majesty, you are without doubt the onely person in your Kingdome that is ignorant of it. But to give it you, it behooves (if you please) to think it fit that I pronounce to you a word which to you is very odious. Alcidiana, confident of A­mintha's discretion told her, that she might speake; since your Majesty commanded me (replyed Amintha) I will tell you that Polexander is in love. The Queen was surprised with that word, and so surprised that she could not refrayne from blushing. But loath to rest mute on that occasion; is it possible (sayd she) to Amintha, that a spirit so strong as Polexander should be capable of so extreame a weaknesse? 'Tis possible Madam, answerd Amintha, and your Majesty would have the pleasure to know the cause aswell as the effects of this passion, you will be confirmd in that true opinion, that love is nothing but blindnesse and folly. Stenelica who hath nothing left ei [...]her of youth or beauty is the cause of Polexanders vexations. He adores her, loves h [...]r, burnes for her, and is desperate when he cannot see her: and as his dispaire comes from the rigours of Stenelica, his contentments likewise proceed from the favours he receives thence. But that which is most strange is, there passeth not a day but he w [...]ites to her, and in such humble and passionate termes, as if he writ to the fairest Princesse in the world. A [...]cidiana tooke no pleasure in this jesting, and you went neere to lose the good opinion she had of you, even by that which you had plotted with Amintha to get you into it. Polexander bindes me to returne to my first opinion (sayd she) to her Confident. Truely Nature and Radiotez have not deceiv'd me, when they assured me, that men were full of imperfections, and how those which had been estem'd freest from deserts and neerest approaching to a divine condition, had by diverse actions of their lives made it appeare they were truely men subject as the meanest to the most low and ridiculous extravagancies. Amintha saw well that twas nothing to the purpose to prosecute what she had begun, she therefore put it off to another time, and applying her selfe to the Queenes humour, did so well by her colloguing and wit, that in lesse then eight dayes wrought in Alcidiana an extreame desire to see the letters you had written to Stenelica. Pre­sently she shew'd her aboue fifty, and wou [...]d have given her a great many more, but that she was wearyed with your supposed extravagancyes. Stenelica punctually receyved two or three a daye and assoone as she had them, had order to bring them to the Queene. Five or six moneths slid away, yet the Queene discovered not the mystery of your Letters, nor of your maskes and turnaments. But by little and little her understanding comming on with her age, and her seventeenth yeere instructing her in that which the former sixteene were ignorant of; she made long and deepe reflections on all that you had done since you came into her Territories, and by those things con­jectured that infallibly Stenelica was but the pretext and coverture of a more high affe­ction. This thought engaged her to reade all your Letters over againe. But scarce had she read the first, when she saw her selfe so lively pictured, that she called her blinde for being so long from discovering it. Streight an indignation for being deceived by A­mintha, made her cast by all the eff [...]ction she bore her, and made her resolve to punish you both for one crime, whereof she judg'd you were equally guilty. And not to defer her vengeance, she called for Stenelica, and shutting themselves in her owne Closet, and accommodating her selfe to the weakenesse of that poore Soule, hardly reasonable; told her, that she understanding how Polexander writ to her only to passe away his time; she would not have her to be any longer the object of his sport and jeasting. I command you therefore (said she) to receive no more of his Letters, nor any more to endure hiscompany. 'Tis a shame for one of your age and condition to lose your time [Page 143] in the fopperies of youth. Breake absolutely the commerce you have with this stranger; burne all his letters, send him back his Jewells, and suffer him not to talke to you any more; hearken to none that comes from him, and above all converse with Amintha as with your greatest enemy. The Queene was not thus contented to cut from that meanes of expressing your affection: But she would take from you all others, and pu­nish you and your complic [...] for your temerity. She therefore remo [...]ved from her or­dinary place of abiding, and went to that stately Castle which the King her Father built on a point of Land that lookes toward your fortunate Islands. All the Court followed her in that Journey, and Amintha with the rest; though she tooke notice of a visible diminution in her favour.

My faire Princesse had not beene above foure or five dayes in that faire Pallace, when fortune willing to obliege her by your losse, stirred up that disorder which drew you from the Inaccessible Island.

Amintha (as you know) was stolne away one night by Pirates, which the winde had driven neere to the Queenes Pallace. As soone as she heard newes of this rape, she shewed a great deale of sorrow, though she had great cause to be glad of it. And I ve­rily beleeve that (by her selfe) she gave the heavens and fortune thankes, that they had evenged her, and she had no hand in it; and that she was wonderfully well satisfied, to see the offenders punished without her being forced to any violence. She caused two ships to be made ready, and armed to pursue the Pirates that had stolne Amintha, and as she would have had them set sayle, it was told her, that in the very instant wherein the Lady was surprised, you had cast your selfe into a barke which by chance you found rea­dy at the foote of the Castle, and that without doubt you had already overtaken the Pi­rates. Alcidiana seeing herselfe so fully and quietly avenged, caused her two ships to put off, to give to all the Court an opinion contrary to her meanings, and in this manner, she put a period to all her cares and perturbations. Be pleased to let me imitate so great an example, and that finishing my discourse as I begun it, I may tell you, that your de­spaire is unjust, and you are an ill esteemer of your good fortune, since you acknow­lede not the greatnesse of it, not only to have obliged the prime Princesse of the world, to except you with that generall indifferency which she hath for all men, but to have made it appeare by publique testimonialls, that you have beene able to make her capa­ble of passiō. Flattering Pallantus (cryd Polexander in interrupting him) how thou canst abuse thy Eloquence, and disguise by thy smooth and winning tearms a rigour which is insupportable. Tell me not that I have made thy Queene capable of passion: Say she hates me, and not being able to endure my presence, hath banished me from a place whereto she knowes well it is altogether impossible for me to returne. But what do'st thou abominable and sacriligious Polexander? Darest thou murmure against that wis­dome, that doth nothing but with justice, though it be not according to thy wishes? Respect, respect the arme that darts the thunder at thee; and receiving Alcidiana's stripes with a benediction, make all the world know that there are no felicities like those of suffering much for her. Polexander ended this speech with sighes, and being risen, began to walke with a g [...]eat pace without hearkning to any thing that Pallantus advised him for his comfort and ease. Their converse had not ended but with the day, if Zelmatida by chance had not met them in their way, and obliged them to returne to the Fort. They retired thither all three together, and gave the rest of the day to Bajazet and Iphidamantus. Pallantus, that would not stay any longer in that place, tooke his leave that same Evening, and promised Polexander that in his return from Africa, he would passe by the Canaryes. Polexander left him not tell he imbarked, and when he saw he must needes be gone, remember (deare Pallan [...]s, s [...]id t [...] Prince, imbracing him) that those consolations thou wouldest give me, have increased my dispaire; and if ever thy good fortune bring thee back to the place, where thy divine Mistris reign­eth: Tell her, thou hast seene the deplorable Polexander at the point to finish by some new kinde of death, the incredible torments, that her absence throwes on him. That is not it which you have promised me (replide Pallantus) neither expect that I will ever speake of you to my faire Mistris, if you doe not persever in the resolution to suffer for her. I will then (said our Heroë) since tis for her glory, and preserving my selfe even [Page 144] in the height of my torments. I will hazard nothing but what I shall be inforced by the just desire of reseeing that incomparable Marvell. Polexander after he had spoake thus, imbraced Pallantus againe, and giving him the last farewell, returned to the three Princes that staied in the Isle. Much adoe he had to remaine the rest of the day with them. He spoake of nothing but of going away, and asking sometimes Iphidamantus, and otherwhiles Zelmatida, what they intended to doe, would willingly have left them both in the comp [...]y of Bajazet[?]. But Zelmatida whose griefes made him as full of an­guish as Polexander[?], intreated him to be received as a companion of his fortune, and that he would obtaine his liberty from Bajazet; speake no more of liberty, (said the illustrious Corsary to him) twere to offend the friendship we have begun, to use tearms which are not practised but amongst enemies. Know then, you are free, if I be so, and though it be very distastfull to me to lose so deare company; yet preferring your con­tent b [...]fore mine owne, I yeeld to your separation. But (added he) addressing himselfe to Polexander as well as to Zelmatida, doe not leave me alone in my affliction, and since Iphidamantus hath no passion that presseth him, intreat for me that he will vouchsafe to abide here, that by his presence I may preserve to me a part of your selfe. Iphidaman­tus, who among these so sensible and despairing Lovers, seemed content and unpassio­nate: Stood not to be intreated, neither by his brother nor Zelmatida, to grant Baja­zet what he requested: But (saide he) since there is (or ought to be) charity in those that are in health, to be industrious for the cure of such sick persons, that are not altoge­ther desperate: 'Tis just, that I forsake Polexander and Zelmatida to abide with Baja­zet. This last hath great wounds, but they are not incurable, and by consequence, time and remedies are not lost in assisting him. But for you two (said he, turning himselfe to his brother and Zelmatida) there is no helpe at all for you, but in the speedy losing your selves. Go then, generous, afflicted men, goe search for shipwracks, precipices, poy­sons, and death. This discourse ended: The foure Princes often imbraced one another, and gave so equall thankes, that it had beene very hard to know who were those that had obliged or those that received the obligation. After these compliments, succeeded the protestations of their eternall friendship, and reciprocall promises, to let one ano­ther know of their affaires as often as they had meanes. Polexander and Zelmatida un­willing to depart without paying their Hostes, sent two chaines of Diamonds, and two of Emeraulds to the Corsaries; and by that Present, left with them a more advantage­ous opinion of their merits, then the miracles of their valour had beene able to make them conceive. Bajazet forgot not that he owed his life to Diceus, but gave him a tri­angle of three Dimonds which the Portingalls valued at more then a hundred thousand crownes. These liberalities ended, the foure Princes at last tooke leave of each other. I­phidamantus aboade with Bajazet, Polexander and Zelmatida being shipped in one same vessell, began a voyage wherein they proposed to themselves none other end, but the continuation of their afflictions.

Polexander to Zelmatida

IF I make you not an excuse for failing in my promise, 'twas because I was engaged by the Command of Alcidiana. I know this reason would not be available with many: But I know withall that Zelmatida, who very highly enjoys the quality of a brave man and a Lover, will no sooner have looked on it, but will instantly be satisfied. I came happily off my Iourney to Morocco; and then thought onely of returning to you, to re-begin our usuall recreations, when one of Alcidiana's Esquires, expressely sent to make all her Adorers run desperate, commanded me to a Iourney for the exterminating a man, who in the midst of the Septentrionall darknesse hath erected Temples to that new Sun: Thus I go where the light of that faire Starre conducts me. I would say nothing of the hopes I have in the Successe of my voyage, if I were not assured that it cannot but be very for­tunate being guided by Alcidiana.

THe Vice-Roy, who looked on Polexander, as the worke of his care, of his watch­ing, and instructions; and who (according to the weaknesse of old folks, believed himselfe, in some manner, to be the Author of all the Princes fairest actions,) could not read the Letter without the shew of an extraordinary content. He gave it back to Zelmatida, and putting on a very serious countenance, I must confesse (said he) that there is something (of I know not what in our Prince) that is seldome seen in other men. O! how much are those poore Kings of Europe, (who without heart and honour shame­fully languish in the idienesse of their Courts) beholding to that passion, which for these three yeares hath made Polexander to wander all the quarters of the Ocean. Certainly, without this obstacle, the King my Master had taught them how to obey, since they are [Page 207] unworthy to command and had of a thousand little States which tare and vex'd one a­nother, compos'd a Monarchy equall to the Three Ancient. Zelmatida answered not to the extollings, and amplification of the good old Man, but only with a little shrug of his Shoulders▪ and unwilling he should continue such censures as might extend even to himselfe, Father (said he) let's know (I pray) what the King your Master hath done at Morocco. Therewith he addressed himselfe to the Canaryan Prince, and with a great deale of civility besought him to intimate how Polexander came off from the Turney of Abdelmelec. The Canaryan, who savoured no more of his Ancestors barbarousnesse, re­lated with a great deale of Ingenuity, all that had passed at Morocco; and to shew that he could do it well, intermingled so neatly the Adv [...]tures of Ennoramita and Muley-Hassen with those of his King, that Zelmatida, and even the Vice-Roy as pensive and froward as he was, took an extreame contentment in it. That Old Man, permitting him­selfe to be carried away with the ill custome of those of his age, began to speake, assoone as the Canaryan had ended; and making a rigorous and unprofitable inquiry of all which had hapned at Morocco, drew-in headlong from thence this pernicious consequence, that Love is the greatest of all follyes whereto Nature can possibly bring men in Subjection. Zelmatida Shrugg'd his shoulders again, in hearing himselfe so il dealt with in the person of another; & to silence the Vice-Roy, put himself on the praysing the Valour and good fortune of Polexander. That which you know of him, (replyed the Vice-Roy presently) is not to be thought on in comparison of so many other acts of Iudgement and Valour which he hath done since he came into the World. I say, since he came into the world, without wronging those termes which are used in the Ordinary fashion of speaking: For, from the first years of his Infancy, he hath made it appeare that he was not borne but for the astonishment and felicity of his age.

Zelmatida taking occasion at that hint which fortune gave him, to hear the Vice-Roy at full without much intreating, besought him often by the Name of Father, to relate all the story of Polexanders life. The good old Man, (taken in his weaknesse) had no mind to deny, but presently consented to Zelmatida's Petition, and would instantly have begun the History of the King his Master, if the Indian Prince had not stopped him at the first word, and said, that so brave a relation was excellent matter for a walke, and the Vice-Roy approv'd of it. Zelmatida hereupon came out of his Chamber, after many kindnes­ses done to the Canaryan, and wishing him to repose himself awhile, came down with the good old man into the great Garden. The Sun already began to decline to the West, and the heat of the day, temper'd by a little wind, seemed by it's freshness to extinguish that heat which the Sun, had spread through all the Horizon. Besides, the Pines, Palms, Cedars, and Orange-trees composed Allyes, as delightsom to the smell as to the sight. Zelmatida went into one of them, so long and close, that, but for the sweet trouble of an infinite number of Songsters which gave not over chanting on the trees, he could not have found out a place more fit for his walke, for to hear the Adventures of Polexander. The Vice-Roy, unwilling that such litle Chir­pers should be of capacity to make him hold his peace, at the first signe from Zelmatida, began his Narration; and the more to en­deare his Auditor, did it with this Preface.

The History of POLEXANDER KING OF THE CANARIES.

IF your Majestie had not all qualities deserving the Author of your race, the glo­rious Sirname of Child of the Sun, and the incomparable title of a Deity, I should fearel east that, in relating to you the actions of a Prince which infallibly is some­thing more then Man, you might accuse me of falsehood and flattery. But when I consider that I am to speak to a Prince, who by his own wonderful acts is bound to beleeve those of His life; I feare not to relate to you a Life as miraculous as any of those Heroes, of whom your Forefathers, and ours have made them their first Gods. Some have bin of opinion that Kings receiv'd from Heaven some advantages which were not granted to other men. I have known divers Kings who have made me doubt of the ve­rity of that beliefe. But having the honor to know you, & withal Polexander, as I do, I am forc'd to confesse that, as there are Kings who are alwayes children, there are others too, who are men in their Infancy. Without giving then ought to my affection, & without soo­thing. I dare say that my King is of those last, and that he came into the world with those excellent qualities, which age, Study, and experience sell to ordinary men at so deare rates. His Soule, in her descent from Heaven, preserv'd & retayn'd al it had receiv'd in the [...] of her originall Her descent or fall made her not lose or forget any thing. She was c [...]ea­ted full of knowledge, and so entred compleat into the habitation appointed for her; and in spight of all the fetters and vayles of the body, kept still her prime agility, and fi [...]t illuminations. But it was very fit, and I dare say absolutely necessary, that Polexander should be borne with those qualities which are seen but in very few Princes: for it would have bin a peice of prodigie, if there had come ought, that was any way vulgar, from Pe­riander the wonder of his age, and Axiamira the Admiration and glory of her times. The Prince, which (for good cause) I alwayes call incomparable, was borne in this Island, and, with his life, receiv'd the Crown of almost all the Canaryes: Not that he had his ex­traction from those barbarous Kings which heretofore raign'd here: His derivation is more glorious; being descended from two of the greatest houses that ever flourished in Europ. The one is that of the Kings of France, and the other of the Emperors of Constantinople. It is but little lesse then three hundred yeares, since the French had, for their King, a Prince, who for the sanctity of his life, hath been thought worthy to be ran [...]d in the number of the Semy-Gods: This King had a Brother call'd Charles of Anjou, The greatnesse of whose courage, and renown of his virtues, acquird him the Crowns of the two Sicylyes and Ierusalem. From that Prince, in a direct line from Father to Son, is Polexander descended; and if Fortune had not too cruelly exercis'd, on that house, that horrible fury wherewithall she useth to break Septers and over-tumble Thrones, he should be now (as his Predecessors have been) King of the best part of Italy, Greece, and Thrace. But those of Arragon on the one side, and the Paleologues on the other, and lastly the Turks have depriv [...]d him of the inheritanee of his Ancestors, and left him no­thing but most just causes to be sensible of their common usurpations. But alas! I know not whether I should wish that Polexander might change the affection he hath to Alci­diana for an inclination to [...]evenge. For when I think on the disasters, which are fatal­ly linck'd to such an enterprize, and reflect on the unfortunate life, and Tragicall death of the great Periander; I feare that which I have most passionatly desired and requested of Heaven, even that the King my Master might never think on those Territories which [Page 209] his Predecessors had lost. The famous Ama [...]ontus, Father of Periander, seeing that by the remissenesse of the last Paleologue, Constantinople fell into the hands of the Turke; and besides, many times but vainely attempting to make the Easterlings arise in A [...]es against their Tyrants, had such a detestation to a people so infamous, that, to lose their memory with the sight of them, he forsook Greece, desirous to seek, out in some other end of the world, a place of retirement, where he might live unknown. But Fortune, who soon repented her of the injustice done to so great a Prince, brought him into these Seas; and in lieu of the most rich Crown of the World which she had taken from him, gave him the fairest and most delightfull. I meane, that after she had long time made him wander on the Ocean, she brought him to cast Anchor and land on this Isle, the very day whereon the Inhabitants were assembled to chuse them a King. He was called to this Little Monarchy by the consent of all, and in lesse then three or four yeares made him­selfe so much valued amongst those of the neighbor Islands, that in emulation of one a­nother, they would needs have him for their Commander. After the death of that Prince, his Son Periander not only succeeded him, but to extend the bounds of this little Empire, drove the Portugalls out of the Isles they had guarded, and without doubt might have gotten the Crown of Spaine it selfe, if the desire of recovering his ancient inhe­ritance had not engag'd him in a War with the Turk. In his first voyage into the Le­vant, he marryed with a Grecian Princesse call'd Axiamira, who by her spirit and virtue made it well appeare, that she came from that Heroick blood which had so often tri­umph'd over the Monarches of Asia. He returned hither with that Princesse, and within the four or five first yeares of his marriage, had on her Polexander, Iphidamantus and Cydaria. Assoone as he saw himselfe made happy by so fair a posterity, he thought on the meanes to make their condition equall to that of his Predecessors, and to that end renewing the Treaties wherein the Knights of Rhodes and many other Princes of Chri­stendome would have before time engaged him, he undertook a busines, which as im­possible as it seem'd, he had infallibly effected, had it not been for the treason or co­wardize of his Allyes. He got him secretly to Rhodes, and not finding matters there as he had been by some made to hope, would therefore be himselfe his owne Agent. He travell'd alone through all Greece; visited all the Princes of the Imperiall house who were banished into the Islands of the Mediterranean, passed thence into Syria, to cause the Heyres of the house of Antioch to take armes; and lastly, disguiz'd like a Turke, came to Constantinople, where he abode neer six moneths, and dealt with so many Christians, during that time, by the mediation of the Patriark, that he thought himselfe powerfull inough to drive thence the Turke. Thence he returned to Rhodes with that good hope, and having wrought his enterprize to it's perfection (at least he thought so) he departed from that Island with an army which should have been invincible. Assoon as he arriv'd, he made himselfe Master of those Castles which shut up the mouth of the Hellespont, and by that surprise threw so great a terror into Constantinople that Ba­jazet was on the point to forsake it. Periander entred into the Propontis and s [...]iz'd on the Isles of Marmora and Calomina in spight of all the strength the Turk had at Sea, Petarded the City of Gallipolis; and entring it by the helpe of the Christians, made ha­vock of the Turkes, and receiving intelligence that all the Fleet of his Allyes was at the entry of the Hellespont, resolv'd, not to give the I [...]dels time to bethink themselves, and therefore sayld streight to Constantinople: and meeting the great Turks Navy a daies saile from the Town, fought with it and put it to flight. His victory was his losse, For all his Soldiers being loaden with the spoyles of their Enemies, and masters of many thou­sand Slaves, began to lose their first valour and to thinke of a retreat. Periander, finding this dangerous a [...]teration in a second conflict, caus'd all the Slaves and booty to be thrown overboord; and to satisfie the covetousnesse of the Soldier; told them that he gave in prey to them, all the riches which the Turkes had in Constantinople. This pro­mise pacified not the sedition; he was forc [...]d to chastize many o [...] [...]e m [...]eers, and de­fend himselfe from the rest as much, or more, then from his very Enemies. The Turk, by his Spyes advertiz'd of this disorder, would make his benefit of it▪ and thereupon return'd on Periander, and fought with him with six times more forces then the other had. The Christian Army, in lieu of advancing, recoyl'd▪ The Traytors, in that occasion, made them­selves [Page 210] known what they were; some yeelded to the Turke, others got the Archi-pelagus; and Periander, after he had fought a day and a night with a handfull of men, was with the blow of a Stone-Engine strook downe, and, halfe dead as he was, chain'd and carried to Constantinople. A little time after this mis-fortune, there arrived here a Portugall ship, which, without doubt, was expressely sent hither to search out the state of the Isles, and to publish the defeate of Periander. Assoone as the Queen, his wife, heard these most sad newes, she stood not to deliberate what she was to do: She commanded me to stay here with the authority of Vice-Roy: and taking Polexander, Iphidamantus and Cyda­ria, imbarqued in one of her vessells, and, without any other consideration or advisement then that of running a like fortune with her husband, came to Constantinople. The day She arriv'd there, Bajazet, who by the taking of Periander had dissipated all the de­signes of his enemies, Celebrated the feast of his eldest Sonnes Circumcision, and had caused to be pubilshed that in acknowledgment of so many prosperities which his Pro­phet had so miraculously showr'd on him, he promis'd, on the word of a King, to grant to the first miserable, unfortunate Creature that should present it self before his Highnes, al [...] that should be demanded from him. Axiamira, imagining that this proclamation was made for her, came with her children into the place appointed for the magnificence of the sports; and assoone as she had seen the King her Husband passe by amongst an infi­nite number of slaves, She cleft the crowd of people, and threw her selfe, with her two Sonnes and Daughter, at the foot of Bajazets Throne. Cast down your eyes great King (said she) on these three Innocents and their unfortunate Mother. They are come, on the day of thy triumph, to lay open to thee their calamities, and to implore thy pity. They have heard that, by an acknowledgment worthy thy Piety, thou hast promis'd to heaven thou wilt deny nothing to the first unfortunate and miserable wretch that shall have re­course to thy clemency. See, O King; behold a Subject, on whom thou may'st fully ex­ercise that Queen of Virtues. These three little Infants do beg of thee to give them their Father; and I the miserable and wretched Mother, beseech thy Majesty to restore to me my Husband. Before I tell you the successe of her Petition, 'twill be fitting that I relate an action, by which Polexander, who was then but seaven yeares old, astonished all the Ottoman Court; and made the first shew of those wonders which have made him the prime Prince of Christendome. Assoon as the Queen his mother had made him kneel he rose againe, and looking on Bajazet, with a boldnesse more then his age promised, as­cended to the highest steps of the Throne, and took hold of the Kingly Scepter. The great Turk took pleasure in his action, and, stroaking Polexander, asked him in Greek whither he likewise came to intreate any thing of him? The young Prince (that understood the language, because 'twas almost naturall to him) answer'd Bajazet, yes; and still kept hold of the Scepter: I aske from thee what the Queen my Mother desires; and do not refuse me, for I shall not be ever a Child. Bajazet began to laugh at that threatning; and yet thinking on it, as if it came from some other then a Child, he turned him towards the Mufti that was on his right hand, and causing him to take notice of Polexanders speech to him; This Child (said he) makes me call the Traytor Scanderbeg to my remembrance. The glorious Mahomet, my Lord and Father, whose Soule raignes now with our Prophet, sometime told me that the Prince of Albania, being but a child, spake to him in snch a manner, as he pre-judg'd he would in time be a man of extraordinary ranck and value, and Tis to be feared least This prove a second Scanderbeg. But let's know what his Mother demandeth, and in so saying he commanded Capi-Aga, who was his Favourite, to take Polexander, and set him againe by Axiamira. The little Prince would not descend but by force, and shaking his head, set his hands on the Aga's Cimyter. The Aga only laughed at it, and, taking him from neer the Turk commanded the Queen his Mother to keep him with her. In the meane time Bajazet looked on Axiamira with a kind of pi­ty; and at last, addressing him to the Princesse; Thy Petition is just (said he to her) and our word is inviolable. Tell me who is thy husband, and I promise to restore him to thee Before I part from this place. Axiamira (therewith)▪ shewed him Periander; and Ba­jazet seeing whereto he was engaged, changed both his action and colour. After he had let work his first agitations, he resumed his Majesty, and touching the head of Axiamira with his Scepter: Thy husband (said she) shall▪ be delivered thee, But get thee hence farre e­enough [Page 211] from our face most justly incensed, and never dare to be so hardy as to present thy selfe againe before us. Assoone as this sentence was pronounced, Axiamira was taken with her Children, by some of the Sultan's Guard conducted back to her ship, and a little while after, foure M [...]tes brought Periander to the Queen his Wife; but they brought him strangled. This cruelty was seconded by another. Those Hang-men questionlesse had order to take away Polexander, but (mistaking) instead of him they seized on Iphidamantus, for all the cryes and Teares of his Mother, and gave command, in the name of the great Tutk; to those whom the Basha of the Sea had put into Axiamiras ship, not to leave her till she were sayld far into the Mediter­ranean. They dis-embarqu'd her on the Island Tenedos, with Polexander and Cy­daria; and after they had treated her with all unworthy usage, return'd toward Constan­tinople. Axiamira, that had no other object, then the Coffin wherein she her selfe had enclos'd the body of Periander, nor other thought then that of his death, and the ta­king away of Iphidamantus, spent the dayes and nights in continuall teares and lamenta­tions. Polexander, made shew of griefe enough, but it was a generous sorrow, and a griefe accompanied with threatnings. Comfort your selfe said he to his Mother; If I live, the Kings death shall be reveng'd, and the Tyrants offending you shall not go un­punished. Notwithstanding, the desolate Axiamira return'd hither, and having promised to my selfe, but a mournfull successe of her Journey; I was not surpriz'd to fee her come on shore with the body of my dead Master. She swoonded assoone as she saw me, and in that case was caried to the Palace. Assoon as she came to her selfe, she ask'd where they had done the body of the King her Husband, and could not be in quiet till they had brought it into her Chamber. When she was a little recovered and setled; I earnestly besought her to be as well a good Mother as a good Wife, to divide her love between her Children and her Husbaud; and not to forsake those that stood in need of her to follow one who was no more in case to desire the proofes of her affections. Speak not to me (said she) of any thing in the world, but of perpetually bewayling the irreparable losses which I have undergone. I know what I owe to Polexander and Cydaria: For the last, I will have all the care which the weaknesse of her age, and the memory of Peri­ander can exact from me▪ And for Polexander, I put him into your hands. The King his Father had chosen you to make him worthy that high fortune to which he is destinated. Let it appeare by your care and instructions, that the love you bare to so good a Master is not dead with bim. Above all, I give you in charge that Polexander never heare any thing of the Empire of his Ancestors, and that you never make known to him those un­fortunate designes which have shortned the dayes of Periander.

I had many things to answer to Axiamira's Propositions, but she stopt me, and said, that unlesse I meant to make her run desperate, I should speak to her of nothing what­soever but of the Kings death. When I knew her resolution I left her; and dedicating my selfe to the good of the charge of Polexander, I apply'd my dayes and nights to so honourable an imployment. When his Court was ordered, I causd an Assembly to be made, wherein the Deputies of all the Islands acknowledg'd him for their Prince, And between his hands swore to him their oath of fidelity. After that, I distributed the Go­vernment of the Isles among the ancient Servants of Periander, and intreating them to continue to the Son the affection they bare to the Father, dismis'd them with all that was necessary to hinder all revolts and surprizes. In the meane time I confin'd my selfe to the Palace with my young Master; and after I had gotten from France and Italy, men of most eminency for the instruction of a Prince, began carefully and diligently to improve so rare a plant.

But I must confess that Prince (as I have already said) had almost neither need of teaching or Study. And I beleeve that Nature reveald to him all that the most able of men acquir'd not, but in growing old on their books, and in imployments. If his wit were admirable, his body was not much lesse. At the age of ten yeares he was so strong and active, that were it at the race, were it at wrastling, or any other exercises he was not out-gone by any of his owne age, or of others of some more yeares. To­wards the end of his twelfth yeare the Kings of Spaine, but especially that of Portugall, made many attempts to drive him from the Canaries. By the intelligence of some [Page 212] Merchants of Madera, his men surpriz'd the Isle of Palmes, and fortified themselves there so strongly, that it was impossible for the Governour to make them quit it; After I heard of these proceedings, and withall, seeing that it was of too dangerous a conse­quence to suffer those Spaniards so neer [...]s: I levyed a good Army to dislodge them; and to the end that the Kings presence should the more hearten the Souldier, and make them fight the more cagerly; I brought him to the Isle of Teneriffe, which is next to▪ that of Palmes: Presently webesiegd the Portugalls in their Forts. The beginning of the Warre succeeded marvellous well with us; for in two moneths, we burnt five and twenty of the Enemies ships, took nine, won two Forts, and put eight hundred Portugalls in chaines. But when we thought to make our selves Masters of the last Fort, the Navy of Portugall, strengthned by a great number of men and Vessells, set on the Isle of Teneriffe; and five or six hundred Portugalls landing in Polexanders Qua [...] ­ter, attempted to it at full day. 'Twas on that occasion the Prince made known he was a man, and an extraordinary one, though he was but at the beginning of his thirteenth yeare. Assoone as he heard newes the Enemy came to assault him; my deare Gover­nour, said he, let's go meet them: I answered, Sir, your Troops have command to give them good entertainment, but in asmuch as the chance of warre is alwayes uncertaine, tis not unfit that, for the safety▪ of your Majesty, we retire into the fortresse of Perian­der, (tis a place which the late King caus'd to be rais'd opposite to that in which the Por­tugalls would have secur'd themselves) what is't you would say (quoth Polexander) my deare Governour? no no, I will rather perish then my Enemies shall vaunt to have made me flye. You shall not flie [I repli'd] though you retire. What terme soever you give to that which you would have me do: [answer'd the Prince] yet will it be a busines dishonourable. Come, come, let's fight, it behoves us, & keep, here either by a faire death or a faire victory. In this [said]] may it please your Majesty, you are not to be hearkned to, for I am answerable, for your life, to the Queen your Mother, and to all your Subjects, and if any ilaccident should betide, 'twould be imputed either to my treachery or insuffi­ciency. To what do you then reserve me said the Prince? Heaven p [...]eserves your Ma­jesty [I reply'd] for thousands of brave actions, when you shall make appeare the great­nesse of your courage, assoone as you shall be of age to put them in execution. What age [said he] would you wish me to begin those brave exployts? I grant I am yong, but I am strong enough to make use of my sword. Admit it (said I) yet must you not rashly [...]st your selfe into danger: Kings have another kind of Fate then their Subjects. The honour of Servents lies in the hazards to which they expose themselves, for the serv [...]ce of their Masters; and that of Commanders, [...]o preserve themselves for the safety of the servants that are left them. Never make me beleeve a thing so dis-apparent [answer'd Polexan­der] in choler: For if Kings [as you your selfe have often told me] are the soules of their Subjects, should they not then watch, operate, and continually travell for them? And what say you, if bodies were not maintained in their being by the operation of their Soules, would they not become meere lumps of Earth and dirt? Do you think tis otherwise with our Subjects? truly no. They must, without doubt, perish when their Kings, like soules sick of a Lethargy, unworthily lye sleeping in their palaces, and suffer those mise­rably to perish through their idlenesse, whom they should preserve by their [...]. Lets on then, lets on my deare governour, where our dutie calls us. Sir (said I) your Majesty is neither of age to doe what you would, nor your people reduced to the extre­mity of axecting it from you. Kings ought to be alwaies of yeares to defend their peo­ple, (replied the Prince) and their condition is such, that neither age nor danger ought to hinder them from preserving their Estates. You have so often taught me these truthes, that I wonder you will read to me now a new Doctrin [...]i I have never told your Majesty any thing (I answered) which in my conscience, I believed not only to be true, but also worthy of your royall Soul: and this being so, I intended not to ruin, by a false dictrine, that which I had established by a true one. All that I desire now is, that your Majesty would turne your thoughts on your selfe, and thence carry them through all the histories you have read, to the end you your selfe may be Judg of the difference which is now be­tween us.

The Prince presently apprehending, by the quicknesse of his wit, what I would say to [Page 213] him; answered me, that he would not have our controversie to be decided by the examples of former ages. Other Princes have done what they pleas'd, and I pretend to have the same priviledg, and by consequence will goe on, without any consideration, right to the place where our Enemies are. What after this, will you oppose me? Ah Sir, (cried I throwing my selfe at his feet, and moystning his hands with my teares,) weigh what your great heart would make you undertake; and thinke with your selfe what a disaster it will be, if some dismall blow should take you hence, in the extremity of your youth.

My deare Governour (replied the Prince coldly,) this consideration proceedes not from a true affection, but it comes from an ill custome, which those, that are neare to Kings have gotten, to flatter them in all things. 'Tis true that I may dye by this occasi­on, and dying lose a great many yeares, which by all likelyhood I have to live: but I know from your selfe, that none ever dyed before the time Heaven had prescribed him; besides I am perswaded, that a King never dies too soon [...], when he dies for the safety of his Subjects.

Whilst the King my Master, and I, thus contested, the Portingal and our men made on, and meeting some two leagues from our Quarters, fought with a great losse on both sides. The Canaryans made the Portingalls give back, and drave them before them into a vally, where, for want of mistrust, they fel into an Ambascado. There were they ill handled, and after they had lost more then their halfe on the place, saw 'twas then their turn to fly. The Portingalls being all reunited came furiously on the Canaryans; and their Cavalry making a horrible massacre of the [...]nawaies, drave the rest even to our intrenchments. Polexander saw the flight of his Souldiers, and was very likely to have thrown himselfe down, from the top of a bastion, to go stay them. Ah my Governor (cried he) I beseech you do not indure I should lose my Honour, and see, my men slaine unsuccored. I renewed my remonstrances, but to no purpose: Of necessity we must (and did) bring him his Armes, and consent that he should fall on the Enemy. In the meane time I caus d all the remainder of our Souldiers that were in the Towne, to sally forth, who in spight of the Enemies, forced them to retire. Our young King, with fifty of his Knights, fell on the reere of the Portingalls, and thrust himselfe so farre in amongst them, that I was a long time without knowing what was become of him. His presence and actions gave so much heart even to those that had lost it, that the Portingalls were hack'd in peices, and from the Town even to the Sea Side, the high waies were covered with them.

The King should have returned from this conflict with an extream satisfaction, for he had done admirably well; and besides, he heard on all hands, applauding? some of joy, and some of praise. Neverthelesse a secret sadnesse made him droope the head, and unwil­ling to heare the acclamations of the people. As I was about to aske him the cause: My Governour (said he) let me once make triall of what you have often told me; and whereof Sir (said I?) That the multitude is never govern'd by reason. Wee have done nothing but run after a company of people, that had as great a desire to fly from us, as wee had to overtake them, and yet to heare the shouts of the Uulgar sort, one would thinke we had gotten some important battle against all the force of Spaine. I smil'd at the Princes consideration: When presently, putting on a more serious countenance, besides (said he) I shal never be sat [...]fied, til I see the King of Portingal with his sword in his hand. Certain­ly that King is a very merry man, and very Gamesome, who, whilst himselfe lies as it▪ were buried in all pleasures and delights, troubles the repose and peace of his neighbours, by such of his subjects as ('tis not unlikely) he would faine be rid of. If I live, I will teach him to live quietly, or to come and fight himselfe. But til that happinesse betide me I am resolv'd to drive the Portingalls from these Islands; and to accompl [...]sh it with the more facility, I will over into the Isle of Palmes with the rest of my Troops.

When he had told me his intentions I was more puzled a great deale then I was before▪ I knew well that my Authority and power were not able to hould in that yong Lion; I had therefore recourse to stronger. I writ to the Queen his mother, who persisted in her teares and solitude, and most humbly besought her, If she loved the life of the King her sonne, she would call him back to her. I intimated all the reasons which obliged me to write so, and made them so considerable and weighty to her, that for a quarter of an [Page 214] houre, She violated the vow she had made of thinking no more on worldly businesse. She thereupon, writ to the King her son; that she desired to see him for some urging occasi­ons, and conjur'd him by her letter, that leaving, for some time, the businesse of Warre, he should make a turne to the place of her retirement: she writ the same to me, and comman­ded me to bring back to her the King her sonne.

The Prince, who was endu'd with all virtues in the highest degree, put it not in deli­beration whether he should obey the Queen, but told me that wee were to retire to his Mother: the Honour wee acquire by Armes is worthyly to be desired, but I beleeve that to be no lesse which is gotten by doing what we ought. 'Tis true, (said I) and therefore you ought (if you please) to give [without delay] the Queen your Mother the con­tentment she expects by your presence. Come (said he) let's give it her, but before we goe hence, try if we can see our Enemies. He needed not goe farre to be satisfied: for the day before our imbarquing, the Portingalls return'd on us, and fail'd little of surp [...]i­zing that port where the Kings ships attended him. There was a furious conflict, wherein, (without adding any thing to the truth) Polexander secur'd the Honour of his Armes, and dis-ingaged, both his men & shipping. The Enemies Fleet retir'd to the Isle of Palmes▪ I thought it had been out of feare, but the next morning I knew 'Twas out of cunning. The Kings departure was not so secretly kept, but that the news of it came to the Ene­my, whereupon they resolved to fight with him at Sea, and by taking of the King to make an end of those warres wherewithall he threatned al Spaine. For mine one part, [who dayly took care for the conducting the Prince] I left al our vessels in the roade of Tenerif which was opposite to that of the Palmes; and one night crossing one of the Islands, caus'd the King to imbarpue himselfe at a port over, against that of Gomera. At daie breake wee set saile, and in a little time our vessel had gone by all the Canaries, but en­tring into a sleeve or narrow passage, which seperated this Is [...]and from the Fortunate, we discovered [...]ve saile, which surely expected us. They made up; and the feare I was in, for the King my Master, redoubling my foresight, I commanded Presently our ship should take another course, and to regaine on the South, the Fortunate Island. These five shipps chas'd us all the rest of the day, and my Pilot was constrained to goe Roome­ward to Sea, that they might not know the course he steer'd. Two vessels of provi­sion which followed ours, were commanded to bestow some shot to amaze the Enemy. Polexander was almost enraged that I would not fight with them. He besought me to feare nothing, and casting himselfe at my feet, my deare Governour (said he) if you love my life, give not the advantage to our Enemies to publish, they have made us fly from them. What will they say of thee, unfortunate Polexander (he added in sighing) when it shall be known that five poore ships have enforc'd thee to fly as a theefe, and forsake a Part of thine owne Company to save thy selfe by their destruction! Ah! let me rather dye a thousand deaths! And in so saying, like one desperate, he ran through the ship to oblige the Pilot and Mariners to tack about. But the Command I had given, could not be chang'd but by me, and the Prince prevail'd not in giving any new. He took notice of it, and pre­sently drawing one of his Guards Swords, and turning it on himselfe, however, (said he) yet will I not have the dishonour to live after the flight, and diobedience of mine one Subjects. I stop'd him ere he could wrong himselfe, and casting by all obsequiousnesse, told him that If he would not be govern'd, I should be constrain'd to make use of that autho­rity which the Queen his Mother had given me. Doe so my good Governour (said he) do what you will with me, I will indure all, provided that I run not away. This while Night drew on, and with the Night a winde so contrary, that I repented me for not lan­ding at the Fortunate Island. We were forc'd to strike all our Sayles, for feare of being put back to the place from whence we came. Which when the young Prince perceived, he shew'd an extreame joy for it, and told me that Heaven, more exorable then I, had heard his prayers, and would not permit that I should cau [...]him to fly any longer. The night passing over with a furious Tempest; at breake of day we saw our vessell within a Cannon shot of two others. We knew thempresently to be Enemies by their flaggs. They made up, shot, and press'd on us, so that in spight of us we must fight. I wish I were able to represent to you the cheerfullnesse, wherewith the young Prince prepar'd him to the combat, and the con­fidence [Page 215] wherewithall he ordered others. My companions, said he to the Souldiers, see how the Justice of Heaven favours us, in exposing to your revenge those which have ex­pos'd your families to all that their tyranny had, the most barbarous. Do not beleeve that these cruell Pyrates give us the chase; They would be glad to be further from you; But, the windes and the waves, which they would have so often made confederates in their robberies, bring them to you, whether they wil or no, to the end they might purge them­selves, by such a delivery, of those crimes whereof you might accuse them. Consider be­sides, that you are not, as these theeves, two or three hundred leagues apart from him for whom in particular you are to fight. You have your King not only for a witnesse of your actions, but also for a companion in your fortune. And in so saying he took a halfe Pike, and went and plac'd himsel [...]e in the most eminent part of the ship.

The Artillery plaid, the best of an houre, on both sides; at last, the two Portugall Ves­sells drew neer, and being grapled with us, there began a horrible fight. The Canaryans, seven or eight times repuls'd their Enemies, and forc'd above fifty into the Sea: Polex­ander was in the midst of the combatants. Some he stir'd up by his words, others by his actions, & the least resolv'd ran into danger, at the sight of their Princes miraculous bold­nesse. Neverthelesse, we were forc'd to forsake our sides, and (to resist a little longer) fortifie our selves on the poope. One amongst us (in the meane time) resolving a cou­ragious and determinate act, charged a Culverin on his shoulders, and placing himselfe on the highest part of the poope, caus'd fire to be given to it. The blow was strange; It kill'd above twenty Portugalls, and the bullet striking through one of their ships, without notice taken of it, either by Souldier or Mariner, they were amaz'd in the height of the fight, to see that ship sink right down with all that was in her. The Portugalls were so infinitely terrified and astonish'd by that accident, that they utterly lost that eagernesse with which they strove to make themselves Masters of our Vessell. In this Intervall we re­gain'd what we had lost, & knock'd our Enemies in again to the ship that was left them. Polexander▪ no way appear'd daunted in so great a danger, but alwayes avoyding me, was alwayes amongst his men, and still promis'd them the victory. Notwithstanding, their number was so diminished, that we had left us, both of Mariners and Souldiers, but fifty. The Portugalls, awakned from their amazement, took notice of our weaknesse, and about a hundred or sixscore of them flew into our Vessell. All the Mariners, as well as Souldiers, thought now on nothing but how to defend themselves.

The fight began afresh, and not a man of ours was slaine which had not before kill'd, (at least) one of his Enemies. Though Polexander was [as you may imagine) extream­ly wearied with so long a toyle, yet resisted he couragiously that fatigation; and witnes­sing the greatnesse of his heart, ran to assist his people. As I followed him, and had my Eyes only on him, he saw me fall at his feet by two thrusts of pikes which I received at once. Ah, my Governor is dead (cri'd he!) and in the same instant, preventing a Portin­gall, who without doubt came on to dispatch me, thrust his sword through the others bo­dy. He fell dead fast by me, but in falling, with a Mallet at Armes, gave such a blow on the Princes head, that he fell with him. Though I was sore wounded, yet I arose, and see­ing the King my Master in so ill case, I carried him, all in a trance, into his Cabin, and dis­armd his head, to see whether he had yet any life in him. Presently he came to himselfe, and streight ask'd me what was become of his Enemies. Alas (said I) what ere is become of them, they have their wish, and gotten enough by cutting off a Life that was to be so fatall to them. I spake it wholly transported with griefe, seeing all the Princes haire knotted with blood, so that I beleeved he had received so dangerous a blow, that it was impossible to save him, and so gave him for dead. I laid him along on me, and carefully search'd his head: wherewith, he clapt his hand on it, and seeing at the drawing it back 'twas all bloody; I perceive now (my good Governor) you feare I am much hurt, but let it not trouble you, for I feele no paine. After I had well search'd, I saw that he had no wound on his head, but that the Axe, wherewith he was struck down, sliding along his Helmet, entred into his shoulder, and from the wound it made there, came that blood, which, after he was fall'n, ran into his hayre. I streight disarm'd him, and finding the place where he was wounded, I thought the hurt not mortall, and so went about to stench the blood, which being done, I told that Heroe▪ it was fit he should rest a while [Page 216] as he was, whilst I went to see in what estate our businesse stood, and would send some of his Servants to attend him. The generous Prince would have risen, but fainting with Weaknesse, he grew pale: and striving, for feare I should perceive how ill he was, since (said he) you think it fitting; I will stay here. I went presently out of the Cabin, and wondring to heare no more noyse, got quickly up to know the cause of their silence, Truly 'twas terribly fearefull, and tis possible you never yet heard speak of the like ad­venture. Our Vessell seem'd to me a bloody Scaffold, on which had been executed a great number of unfortunate and miserable wretches. Of above a hundred and fifty Ca­naryans and Portugalls, which I had left fighting, I found not one standing. Some were dead, others, wounded with mortall blowes, with sighes and groanes were giving a period to their lamentable Destiny. The Portugall Ship too, which was grapled with ours at the beginning of the fight, had either been forced off [...]y some gust of Wind, or unhook'd by some of their own, who seeing their Companions so ill handled, had thrown themselves into her for their safety. After I had been a while, as it were, out of my self by so dismall a spectacle, I re-collected my wits, and perceiving, by this generall defeate, that the King my Master was in some safety, I gave thankes to heaven, and besought it with all my heart, that it would perfect what was begun, for the good of Polexander. [...] view'd all the dead and wounded of our party, and found, amongst the last, a Young Canaryan that serv'd in the Kings Chamber. His Name was Diceus, and (for his age) he was an excellent Chirurgion. The need I had of him obliged me to see in what plight he was, and whither his wounds were deadly: I drew him from under many bodies that were faln on him, and laying him in a place commodius enough caled him so often & so much tows'd him that he opened his Eyes a little. I imagined there might be found some Essences about him, and therefore, rigging in his pockets and finding what I search'd for, made him take the half of a little glasse bottle. Presently he retook heart, and his affection rendring him the memory of his Master, he asked (without knowing me) what was become of the Prince. He lives (said I) thankes be to heaven; but Diceus (said I) he is in such a case, that he needs thy assistance. See what a true affection can do! Scarce had Diceus heard Polexander was li­ving, and yet wounded, but he arose; and knowing me, my Lord (said he) bring me spee­dily to the King. Prithee, (replied I) do thou take the paynes to help me to him, for I cannot keep my selfe on foot; and feeling a faintnesse, Diceus (said I) the King is in his Cabin, Go quickly and help him: So that thou savest his life, tis no great matter what be­comes of the rest. With that I fell, and lost all perceivance and understanding. Diceus, fore-seeing that my swoonding would be long, left me, after he had commodiously seen me laid, and went to the King; whom he found in a heavy slumber, whereof he had no good opinion, and therefore awakened him, and telling who he was; Sir (said he) all your Enemies are dead. It is fit your Majesty should now relish the sweets of so brave a Victory. Whilst he spake thus, he perceived his wound, and having gently searched it was assured, that not a Ueyne was cut, nor Nerve wronged▪ and by divers actions intimated his exceeding gladnesse for it, and besought the King not to feare any ill successe of his hurt. I have none, [replied the King] all that troubles me is, that I finde a certaine weak­nesse that duls me. Hereupon Diceus got him to take five or six drops of a Cordiall Poti­on, which so strengthned him, that after he had closed and bound up his wound, he arose as cherefulll as if he had not been hurt. But as he was about to aske for me, he tooke no­tice that Diceus was all bloody: Alas! poore Diceus [cried he] thou art sore hurt. Tis nothing Sir [said I] since we are sure of your life. There's no feare that ou [...]'s will run a hazard. Yet let me tell you, Pimantus is in great danger, for I left him swoonded on the Hatches: be therefore pleased that I go to take care of him. Scarce had the Prince heard of my mischance, but he came where I lay, and finding me sencelesse, fell into such Lamen­tations and teares, as had been able [had I been dead] to have revived me, had he found [...]e dead. Diceus recovered me from my fainting and, not to hold yo [...] longer among the many slaine and wounded, let me tell you that the King and his two Servants, by a mutu­all assistance, were freed from that Fate wherein so many were involved. In the mean [...]ime, our Ship [governed only by fortune, for our Pilot was slain in his Cabin] fa [...]l'd at [...]dome two dayes and nights.

[Page 217] The Third day a tall man of Warre assail'd us, and by consequence took us. Those[?] that were abord her, were more astonished at their prize, then we were, of their setting on us. They knew not what to thinke of so horrible a Massaker, but they wondered more when they saw appear, a youth of about thirteen years who with a marvelous confidence demanded who they were, and whither they came, as Ene­mies or friends. The Captaine of the straingers could not reply to the Kings question for he understood him not. Addressing himselfe therefore unto me (who was crept after Polexander, rather then I would forsak him) Father (said he) if by chance you understand my language I intreat you to tell me by what mischance you are falen in­to the estate I finde you. By his speech I knew him to be a Frenchman, and concealing from him the Name and birth of the King my Master, related the accident which had lately betided us, and withall presented to him the King as for my Son; and shew­ing both our wounds, besought him to conduct us to the Canaries. the French­man (who as I understood that same daye) was a Gentleman of Britany, hardly be­leeving what I had spoken touching the valour of my supposed sonne, took him into his Armes, a thousand times kis'd him, and highly praised that wonder of valour and spake of it as of a most certaine presage, that he should be one day a great war­rior. I besought him againe▪ to bring us to our Islands; and though as it seemed he had another designe, yet for the love of Polexander he promis'd me to make that voy­age, but fortune had otherwaies dispos'd of him. For the Briton who was come into our Seas only to inrich himselfe[?] by other mens labours▪ seeing divers sailes a farre off, with an extreame hast got to the coasts of Morocco: and when he would have put to Sea againe, a South winde for fifteene dayes with such a violence perplexed him, that after the Tempest he found himselfe far beyond the Cape Finister in The Author calls it Fine Terre, I think he meanes Fi­nister. Spayne. He advis'd me then to goe with him into Britany, and to put by all diffi­culties which I named in the voyage, told me, that our Islands as happy as they were estemed, were not yet more fotrunate then his Princesse Court; and that I should finde there such a repose, and abondance, that I should infallibly forget the delights of our owne country. Seeing there was no remidy, and I could not do better, besides perswading my selfe, that Heaven did absent Polexander from t [...]e Canaries[?], but to save him from the cruelty of the Portingalls, I resolv'd to credit the Briton, and to let my king see the most renowned Courts of Europe[?], without his being known. Presently therefore Polexander, Diceus▪ and my selfe imbarqued our selves with the Briton, and taking out of our ship two Coffers wherein were the Kings Jewels, I left our ship to the disposall of our Guid. We sayled so fortunately; that the fif­teenth day we came into the River of Loire▪ where the Gentleman Rover told us that for divers considerations he thought it fitting to conduct us right to his Prin­cess Court. But to the end we might be receiv'd according to our quality, 'twas convenient we should put our selves in good equipage, and above all that I should forget nothing which might set out the gracefullnesse of my Sone. I answered him, that our present condition suffer'd us not to affect that curiosity, yet[?] on condition that he would (assoon as pissible he could) reconduct us to our Islands, I would do all that he desired, and withall told him, that his voyage should not be unprofitable to him for (said I) I have ther such an abundance of al such thing, for which men sayle from one World to the other, exposing themselves t [...] all perils of Sea and Land, that if I have the happynesse to see you in my Isle, I engage my selfe to give you for my ransome & my sonnes as much Gold as you can cary thence. The Briton o­pened his eares at that promise, & imagining that I was a Prince of some one of the Canaries, renew'd his civilities & pro [...]e [...]ations of service. He impledg'd to me, honour & faith, never to forsake me, til he had brought me againe to my owne house, and told me very seriously that he exerciz'd not the trade of a Pirat, but only to accomplish[?] a vow he had long a gon made▪ to be al his lifetime[?] an Enemy to the Spanyards. I than­ked him for his generossity, & for feare he might be tempted to take us for Spanyards▪ I drew out of my bosom a chain of Diamonds, which I had taken out of one of the Kings Trunks, and presenting it to him, in privat, see (said I) some earnest of the pro­mise I made you. Keepe it for my sake and assure your selfe, there hath betided you [Page 218] more then all you, could have gotten from the Spanyards.

The Britain seeing himselfe so much enrich'd in so short a time was even ready to cast himselfe at my feet to thank me for that excessive liberality, but I withheld him, and clinging him to my brest; Assure your selfe (said I softly) that this present is but the least part of what you are to expect from my gratitude. But if you love me truly and affect your selfe, make nothing publick of what you know. The gene­rous Britain, by a thousand oathes confirm'd his promises; and landing us at a very pleasant Town, brought us the next day to another, which was the ordi [...]ry residence of the Duchesse. Polexander was wholy cured of his wound, but I was not so well as to get on horseback. Diceus too was healing but because of his too much paines about the King, 'twas the more slowly. Our Conductor was therefore faine to get a Coach, for our Journey; and comming to the place where the Duchesse of Brit­tany kept her Cou [...]t we were lodged in a very faire house. There we refresh'd our selves some few dayes and by the kind entertainment of our Leader▪ lost all the remembrance of our forepassed miseries. The King was never in so good health and vigour as he found himselfe after his great toyle. The paines he had taken had un­knit him, and he seem'd to me so much grown, that I was compell'd to belye my reason to give credit to my Eyes. One Evening, our Conductor related he had spoken of us to his Princesse; and though the affaires, of her Estate extraordinary­ly took up her time, yet she would see us the next day. I besought that we might not be a trouble to him. No, no Father (said he) the hardest businesse is past▪ there is nothing remaines for you and your Son, but to be alwayes ready, for to mo [...]ow infallibly I will bring you to the Duchesse. Hereupon, I imploy'd one part of the night in instructing Polexander, and teaching him how he should behave himselfe towards me, that they might take him for my Son. The next day I put him in a ve­sture of cloth of Gold, inrich'd with Diamond buttons, after the fashion of the Canaries. His Buskins were of the same stuffe, and fastned before with buttons of Rubies. He wore a Cap of cloth of Silver, from whence, under its Band of great pearle, there hung a plume of the fairest Feathers which are brought us from Afri­ca. To make an end of decking him, and to raise words of his value; I put on him a rich Scarfe which the Queen his Mother had wrought herselfe before she was a Widdow and in this habit he was presented to the young Duchesse of Britany. That Princesse who was not much elder then He, and who, for her age, was the most dis­creet and accomplish'd personage I ever saw, gave her selfe not respit to hear or consider me. At the first sight she was so strooken with the comlinesse and beauty of Polexander, that she kn [...] not how to make an expression. He, presently, comming up slowly neer the Chair where she sate, kneeld on one knee, and kissing her Gar­ment, told her in his owne language, that he wanted one thing to make him per­fectly happy, and 'twas, to be able to speak himselfe to her, understanding how much he was her servant. The young Princesse, after she had commanded his complement to be interpreted replied with so much wit, that I instantly wish'd there m [...]ght is­sue some great affection from the interview of those two young Princes. But it was not so ordain'd by Heaven. Al the Ladies of Britany came thronging to see my pre­tended sonne, and Judging of his quality by his richnesse and, actions said; among [...], that I was a Prince, who for some important consideration; had given over, and abandon'd my estate and Country. In a very instant all Britany▪ was fil'd with the newes of our arrivall: The Beauty and worthinesse of my King, was the discourse of all men. They said that at the age of twelve yeares, he had at the height of a great fight slaine two Portingal with his owne hand; and everyone adding wonder to wonder, they publish'd all those fables, in venred by the Ancients, to make of our Isles the abode of the Heroes, and men most fortunate.

Whilst wee lived thus, the talke and admiration of so many, the marriage of the Dutchess of Britany with the King of France was concluded. The Embassadors of that Prince came to conduct her, in an equipage proportionable to the greatnesse of their Master and was so brought to the place for her e [...]powsall; & to have some-what [Page 219] wherewithall to astonish all the French Court, she had, with her the Canaryan Prince for so she would have him called, If the Brittons admir'd him, the French came no▪ short of them; and being an extream obliging Nation, and great Lovers of Novelties▪ you cannot imagine the kindnesses and humanity Polexander received from them. The French King; a Prince of two or three and twenty yeares, at first sight affected my King; and, as if Nature by some secrer instinct, had told him he was of his blood, he entertained him not as a stranger Prince, but as his own Brother.

The Solemnity of his Nuptialls being seconded by the Coronation of his Queen and his entry into the Capitall City of his Realme, Polexander had the conveniency to see all those magnificences; and, to be one, himselfe, of their principall Ornaments. All that while he studyed and observed the manners, quaintnesse and tongue of the French; and profited so well, that in lesse then three yeares he became an absolute French-man. At the entrance into his sixteenth yeare the French King made a Pro­gresse to one of his Cities caled Lyons & whilst he staied there, the Princes and Lords of his Court, made generally appeare and break out, their Honor, Spirit and Dex­terity. The first Prince of the blood (who is now King of France) and some others, were Actors in some Turnaments and Iusts, like those so frequent amongst the Moores. There was not a crosse street, or eminent place in Lyons, wherein you saw not an Arch or Base of stone or mettall, which no Knight could passe till he had made tryall of it's adventures. The King my Master having learn't from the best Ryders of the World, all that Art hath invented to manage a horse well, yet found out (himselfe) a part of it, which appear'd so rare and stately, that It darkened the repute of all the others. I remember well too, that, to furnish all things fitting for this ex­pence, I sold to the Merchan [...]s of Lyons about a hundred crownes-worth of Iewells-Such persons as were of most Eminence taking notice of those expences, and seeing the courage, addresse, & courtesie of Polexander, doubted no more of his quality for all believed him to be a Prince. But som filly braines began to prattle 'that I was a Sorcerer, and how, by my inchantments I made things appeare that were not; or to make them reall, I used the Power of the Devill. During these Iusts, Diceus (whom we had secretly sent to the Canaries) return'd, with the best newes we could Wish. He told us, that the Queen was alive, and how, by the succour she had procured from Spimantus Prince of Scotland, and the incomparable Valour of one Alcippus a Cana­ryan Knight, the Portugalls had been beaten at Sea and in the Ilands, and constrain'd to abandon the Forts of Palmes, Gomera, and Teneriffe. That all men passionately wished for the Kings returne, and to make it the more safe and glorious, Alcippus was comming with a Fleet of above a hundred sayles of ships. Within a few dayes after Posts came to the French King, advertising him that a powerfull naval Ar­my was seen on the coastes of Britany. Those Messengers were seconded by others which confirmed it for truth, and by their newes put the Court into such an ap­prehension, that they were ready to part from Lyons, and run hastily to the succour of Britanny. But the Arrivall of Alcippus taking away all cause of feare, made the ef­fect of it to cease to [...]. The King and Queen understood from him that he was the Admirall of the Fleet which they fear'd; that he was born a Subject to the King of the Canaries, and understanding His Master was in their Court, he came from the Queen his Mother and all his Subjects, to entreate and suplicate him to give a period to their feares and greifes by his speedy returne. This speech renewed the astonish­ments of France: King Charles was pleas'd to take the paines to visit me, and to treate me as the Father of Polexander, and by consequence as King of the Canaries. I, who already heard of Alcippus arrivall, presently thought he had discovered that which I had kept so long concealed: and therefore throwing my self at the King's feet, I humbly besought his pardon for so long time concealing the truth of my conditi­on from him, and told him: I was but the Princes Governor, whom I had made to [...]e held for my Son. That it was he who was truly King of the Canaries and to knit strictly a perfect amity between those two Kings, I told him of Polexander's extract [...]. on and his Predecessors Fortunes.

That Monarch was even ravished to finde so wo [...]hy a Ki [...]smar: and unable to [Page 220] give limits to his Joy, made it break▪ forth before all his Courtiers, He oftentimes em­brac'd Polexander, and made him many excuses for not entertaining him as a Prince of his condition: And thereupon re-embracing him, and calling him his deare Cosen and his deare Brother, brought him to the Queen. Alcippus was yet in the Privy-Chamber when both the Kings came in: Instantly he knew his owne: and un-accustomed to the respects and circumspections which are to be observed before the Princes of Europe, went and cast himselfe at Polexander's feet. In the first interveiw he gave him so many proofes of his Zeale and fidelity, that the Prince, by virtue of his inclination as well as by his sensibility of the great Services he had received from him, lov'd him at first sight, and ever since hath so particularly honor'd him with his favour, that he hath conceal'd no­thing from him. That very day he put off the Personage which he had acted for three yeares; and although he was obliged to take on him with the Name of a Soveraigne, all that stately preparation and decking, by which Kings imprint a reverence and terrour in the hearts of their people, yet did he carry himselfe amongst those which were not of his condition, as courteously & familiarly as he had done, when he went for a private man. I pressed him continually to take his leave of the French King and, Queene: but He, who had other thoughts, put off his departure from day to day, and seeing himselfe im­portuned by my solicitations, My dear Governor (said he) I know my duty to the Queen my Mother, and I understand whereto the quality of a King obligeth me. I will give full satisfaction to these two duties: but I will first repay the obligations I owe to France. I see the King my Brother on the point of a great Enterprize: He intends shortly to fall on Italy and force from the Spaniards the kingdome of Naples, which they have u­surp'd from my Predecessors: Judge you whither I should leave him in such an occasion. No, I will passe the Alpes with him, and will, at least, have the comfort of seeing the Se­pulchers of those great Kings from whom I have my being. The very same day, He, (who had no other designe then to give contentment to his generous humour, and re­turn the favours he had received from France) offred himselfe to King CHARLES, and intreated him to make use of his Navall Army. Those who ruled the King; after long consideration on Polexanders offers, imagined they were but artificiall and cunning, and that, infallibly, he was advised to go to the conquest of Naples, to make his owne use of that occasion. If this Young Prince (said an Officer) see that things go fair for him, he will set the pretensions of his house on Foot, and, in declaring himselfe the next heyre to Charles of Anjou, may possibly turn to his side the Neapolitan affections, That indeed his age, virtue, and want of strength might take away these suspitions; but the reasons of State advise to live alwayes in distrust, and the ill was rather to be beleeved then the good. This ground laid: they thought it surest to give most civill thankes to the young Prince, and to send him home to his owne Islands the most honourably they could. The advice was followed, and the French King imployed all the fairest words were dictated to him to re-mercy Polexander: and being the Sonne of a Father, who had never taught him any other thing then this: that, He knew not how to raigne, that knew not how to dis­semble, he so well practised his Fathers Doctrine, that Polexander no way doubted of his cunning and dissimulation. When he saw himselfe absolutely dis-engaged, he told me, that being acquitted from what he thought due from him to the French King, he was resolved to follow my advice, and to render to the Queen his Mother, and to his Subjects, that which they expected from him. But (said he) we must handsomely bid farewell to France, and since it hath given us so many Examples of Gallantry, tis fitting we should let them see that we are able to imitate them. He resolved therefore to entertain all the Court the Eve of his departure, and to joyne to his great feast, a Ball after the French manner, and a Maske after the fashion of his owne country. I should be too troublesome▪ should I tell you the particulars of that magnificence, for it would take a whole day to make you a description of the Halls where the Ball was kept, the feast made, and the Maske danced. Never were more Engines and inventions seen in one place: Art there surmounted Nature, and the day was imitated by the infinite Number of Lights which were not seen. But the most admired, was a Maske of twelve naturall Canaryans, where­of Polexander was the Leader, all clad and dancing after the manner of their own Country. When these sports were ended Polexander accompanied the King and Queen [Page 221] to their lodging, and took this leave of them both with so much spirit and grace, that he appear'd no lesse in that Adieu, then in his great entertainment. The Duke of Orleans, who had particularly consider'd him as one of the greatest lights of his house, staid to lye with him, to have the more time to give him the Farewell. The other Princes visi­ted him, with great demonstration of Esteeme, and amity. Even the Princesses and Ladyes suspended their custome, to give him the departing complements. But among all those beauties, who had not, or at least made no shew to have any other then a simple well­wishing to so brave a Prince, there was one either more sensible or lesse discreet then the rest. She was both of great birth and beauty, and of little more age then Polexan­der. During the Prince's aboad at Lions, she had divers times written to him without making her selfe knowne: but receiving no answer, she thought she must hazard some­what more then a few letters without subscription and signature. She therefore advis'd to employ a confident in this Amorous negotiation; and to make her selfe known by that mediation. Polexander hearkned to that Embassadresse, and understanding all that she had in charge, so generously treated her that she return'd much contented, though he had not ingag'd himselfe. She first deceiv'd her selfe, that she might the bet­ter deceive her who set her on work; and so firmely beleev'd the King would yeeld to her prosecution, that she made no difficulty to assure her Mistrisse, she should have an entire satisfaction: But that assurance was found false by the suddaine departure of Po­lexander. Assoone as he had rendred all the complements he had receiv'd, he took Post, and came to lye at a Town where usually they embarque that descend by the River of Loire. He found his lodging as richly furnish'd as that at Lions; and was there serv'd by the French Kings Officers, with a profusion that well witnessed the wealth of that Mo­narch. The next day, as he was ready to put him on the River, he was staid by the Duke of Orleans, and many other young Lords, who were come poste, to give him that last te­stimony of their affection. He receiv'd them with such courtesies as wholy won them, and so quaintly made use of that grace which he principally had in giving, that even the Duke of Orleans could not refuse a box of Rubies which he intreated him to accept as a token of his friendship. As soon as this brave Troop was seperated, Polexander thank'd, even to the meanest, all King Charles his Officers; and bestowing on them gifts proportionable to his quality and not to theirs, put himselfe into a great Boat, of purpose provided for him to descend into Britany. The Boat was fairely painted and guilt; there was in it a Hall, a Chamber, and a Cabinet, whose hangings, and other furniture was of China Sattin with great braydes of Gold and Silver. Most of the Boat-men were clad in the same Sattin, inrich'd with Silver lace, and rowed with Oares painted with the colours of their Liveries. At the first stroak, they began a Song, which they had accorded among themselves, and though 'twas none of the most charming, yet it pleas'd my Master the King, since it was a testimony of the affection which the French bare him; They row'd till towards two or three houres of night, with all the pleasure so pleasant a way of travelling could be accompanyed; and if Polexander could have had his will he had made no stop. But order being given, all along from Lions, for his Geasts, two Stewards of the French Kings, who attended him, got him be pleas'd to land where his lodging was provided. It was on the side of the River; and though 'twas but an Inne, they had so orderly disposed it, that it might have pass'd for a very faire Castle. The King presently after his arrivall, set him at Table, and ravish'd with the sweetnesse of the ayre and calmenesse of the night, shew'd he had a great desire to [...]eimbarque after Supper. He had but begun to eat, when a most curious, cleere, and ex­treame sweet voyce, comming from the river, strook his Eares, and so pleasingly touch'd them, that he arose from Table and ran to the Chamber window to lose nothing of so excellent a Musick. The person that sung was set on the banck of Loire, and intimated to be jealous of the Nymphes of the River, accusing them for ravishing a treasure which the Singers incomparable love was only worthy to possesse. Polexander stood as in­chanted with so delicate a voyce, and when she had made an end of her ravishing com­plaints; he turn'd towards them that were behind him, and ask'd, if there were no meanes to heare it againe: your Majesty needs but shew that you desire it, said one of the French-men. He; whom you please to honour with your commands, will not faile [Page 222] to bring that Musitian to you. Tis not fit (replyed Polexander) for me to abuse the French courtesie; this Musitian would be alone, and we must leave him at his liberty; and not oblige him to a troublesome complying; Yet presently, a Frenchman by a slight, usual to that Nation, went to the Musitian, and telling, into what admiration the Song had brought the King and his desire to see him, besought, that he would not deny that con­tent to so great a Prince. The Musitian, receiving very civilly the French man's proposi­tion; My voyce (said he) payes me with too much use for the little care. I have taken in improving it. I expected from it no other recompence, but its assisting me in bewayling my misfortunes, and behold it hath acquir'd me the favour of a King, which I may terme the prime in all the world, if I were not borne French. I will go wheresoever you please to lead me; But if the Prince, who sent for me, so much love Musick, try to bring him hither. There is an Eccho in the Island which lyes before us, which is more worth then a whol consort. The French man getting the Musitian to promise that he would stay still there, return'd to Polexander, and relating what he had done, assu­red him, the Musitian expected only his command to come to him. 'Tis better to go to him and follow his conncell, replyed the King. Presently he arose from table, and went with Alcippus the French-man and my selfe, where he was to find that excellent voyce. The night being very cleere by reason of the Moon, being almost at full, the Musitian perceiv'd him▪ a farr off; and comming to meet him, did (as all Musitians do, whether good or bad) excuse himselfe for his ill singing, through fault of a rheume, which he could not be rid of. The Prince gave him many faire words, for feare he should beleeve he came expresly to make him sing, and asked him whence he was, and whither he was going. My fortunes (said he) are not worthy to be known by your Majesty. Yet you will do me a favour to tel them me reply'd the King; and if I do not deceive my selfe, it will not be a small contentment to me. You are too generous (answer'd the Musitian) to take any pleasure in a thing that is so worthy of compassion. Be pleas'd Sir, rather to put by that curiosity, for it can bring you nought but trouble, and but serve to add to my afflictions. I am not come (reply'd Polexander, to molest you, yet (at least) you may tell me what your designe is. 'Tis in that (said the Musitian) I shall be most pestred. I confesse I have one, but to tell you what a one 'tis, is a thing to me impossible, for I change my resolution every moment; and without adding any thing to the truth, I sweare to your Majesty, that even now since I had the honour to be neere you: I think I have had above twenty, and all different. These riddles (reply'd Polexand [...]r) need an explication: but since you would not speak so obscurely, but that 'tis your desire; not to be understood, I will not oblige you to an unfolding. Only tell me what way you meane to take. The very worst I can [answerd the Musitian] at least, the feare that beares me company wisheth me to it. But to testifie to your Majestie, how farr my intention is to please you, I will reveale what I never spake to any: I am going to see whether I shall be happier in Britany, then I was at Lions; and in uttering these last words, the Musitian sigh'd, and sigh'd so amourously, that it touch'd the King my Master even to the heart, yet withall, it overjoy'd, him to have the occasi­on of not leaving the young man. He therefore promis'd to bring him into Britany, and to imploy all his credit, to give him the contentment he went to look for in those partes. I have often heard (said the Musitian) that 'tis for the greatnesse of Kings to promise all, & for their wisdoms to performe only what is most advantageous to them and I extreamely feare, least in that nature you assure me of your protection. But what said I? pardon me (great Prince) an impudence deserving punishment, did it proceed from a sound braine. Truly, of late I have not been Master of mine owne witts, and my reason is so darkned with an extraordinary passion, that I see but at halfes.

The King had too quick an apprehension not to comprehend the mysteryes of those words. He imagined the Musitian to be some man of indifferent condition, faln in love with a Person of very high quality; and by consequence beleev'd, his designe would have good successe. This imagination made him promise the Musitian againe, to assist him with all his credit; and by his offers won him to imbarque with them. The Musitian, de­sirous to pay the Kings affection with some ayre that might please him, lead him to the place where he had sung, and repeated a Song, whose notes were so fitted to the [Page 223] words, that they distinctly mark'd in it both joy and sadnesse, hope and feare. That done, Polexander return'd to his lodging and took the Musitian with him. He look'd on him[?] by torchlight, and seeing him[?] so young, so faire and well made; I confess [said he to the Frenchman that followed him] France produceth things extraordina­rily rare. The musitian [...] to see how earnestly Polexander ey'd him, drew back to a corner of the Chamber where there was not so much light; and taking a Lute from a Page that was by him, (plaid on it all the Evening, rather to hide himselfe some way from the curiosity of those who had their[?] Eyes fix'd on him, then to have the quick­nesse of his hand or cleanlinesse of his touch to be admired. A part of the night being thus plesantly overpast, the rest they gave to their repose.

The Musitian retyr'd with his Servants, and the next day came to the arising of the King my Master. He behaved himselfe so respectfully towards the Prince, and shewed such a feare as often as he was engaged to answer him, that the King knew not which to praise in him most; whither his extream beauty, or infinite discretion. After divers dis­course, he intreated him along, and so took boat, Assoone as he was in, he called for the Musitian, and bringing him into his Cabin; if you love me, said he, you wil tell me who you are, and what 'tis that troubles you. And to witnesse I have not this curiosity but to assist you, I renew the promises I made you Yesterday at Even: and if it be in my pow­er to make you happy, I engage my Honour, that I will lose all I have in the world, rather then faile of my word.

The young Musitian (whom I will call Hippolitus, since he told Polexander that his name was so) cast himselfe at the King's feet, and embracing his leggs, Sir (said he) I am much greiv'd, that I cannot make appear by some more humble and respectfull action, the sensibility I have of those assurances your Majesty vouchsafes to give me. I dare not doubt any longer of my good fortune, since your generousnesse hath determi­ned of it: and were it not for some remainder of feare which holds my happynesse sus­pended, I confesse, that I can wish for nothing more. But to the end, your Majesty may know what the cause is of my sufferings, & by that knowledg apply a remedy which may free me from them, I will tel you, all my miseries came from my loving too much: He blush'd in making that Declaration, and his bashfullnesse hindered him from going▪ on in his discourse. Polexander, to give him time to recollect himselfe, told him, that considering the age, beauty & other graces he was endow'd with, he could not with­out an extraordinary diffidence to avoid the trap whereinto he was fal'n. For (said he) I have learn'd from those who have taught me, that youth and beauty, be it of the body or the mind, are dangerous company; and usally betraying those they love most, deliver them over into the hands of the most cruell of all the Tyrants, wherewithall our humane condition is persecuted.

Hearing you speak thus of love (replied Hyppolitus) 'tis easy to be imagined that you know it well. I know not (answer'd Polexander) what it is, and speak only by heare say. How! (said Hyppolitus) speak you of love but on the beliefe you have of your Tutors? no truly (replyed the King,) and even thinking oftentimes on that which they have taught me of it, I imagine with my selfe, that tis with love as with so many o­ther fables invented for delight and instruction, and that indeed there was nothing which in spight of us, could make it selfe Master of our liberties, and force us to love what we ought to hate.

Ah Sir! what say you? cried Hyppolitus with a sight You are in an opinion exploded by all ages and Nations: Repent you quickly for being faln into this Error; and hold your selfe for a lost-man, if you persever in it. Polexander began to laugh at the feare Hyppolitus would have put him in, and told him, he spake according to his understan­ding; and truly (said he) I finde nothing in me that teacheth I should give place to love. What (repli'd Hyppolitus presently) doe you then love nothing? Yes marry do I, an­swered Polexander: I love all that is lovely, but my love is an untroubled, a calme love, an obedient love, a love that passeth not the bounds I prescribe it. Certainely (said Hyp­politus) those shall be worthy a great deale of pitty, who fall in love with you. Who­ever shall love me (replied Polexander) shall never repent him of his affection, for I will prefer my friends before my selfe. Their interests should be my interests, their joyes [Page 224] my joyes, and their griefes, mine owne: in briefe, I will live more for them then for my selfe. Tis more then I expected (quoth Hyppolitus) from a minde which faines to be ignorant of love. Doe not beleeve I dissemble (continued Polexander) I know no o­ther love, then a judicious and just desire to do good actions; to render to every one what is his due; to acquire a Noble reputation by legitimate waies, and, by a wise con­tempt of a life of few yeares continuance, to a [...]chieve that which shall be everlasting.

By hearing you make this distinction ( [...] Hyppolitus) it seemes you compre­hend not that which is properly to be called love. I say, that violent and imperious pas­sion, which proceedes either from inclination or knowledg, and raignes [...]o imperiously over our understanding, that it [...]braceth the object presented as it were its soveraigne felicity. I meane not to admit of that love, (said the King) for I have condemned it from the beginning of my discourse. This may be (added Hyppolitus) because you feare the troubles and disquiets which accompany it. But you would not be sorry to see some young beauty passionately in love with you, and to give to another that passion you would not entertaine your selfe. I have as little intention (answered Polexander) to give as to receive any love; and since it falls fitly now to be spoken of, I will tel you tru­ly, that if, by any fantasticalnesse of Fortune, it should betide me to be beloved, as you would have me understand it, there is nothing I would not doe, either to dis-beguile her that had made so ill a choice, or to hinder me from seeing her. And I [said Hyppolitus sighing alowd] would leave nothing undone to be never seperated from such a person as you, who knowes not so much as the name of love, and would fly from me as if I were his Mortall Enemy. I pitty you [repli'd the King▪] and advise you to what a ge­nerous man should doe. If you cannot cure your selfe by any remedy, may please you, try those which seem to you the most dis-agreeable, and yet, which by their hidden virtue may be extreamely profitable unto you. I meane, if you cannot be holpen by the enjoying, cure your selfe by contempt, absence, or oblivion. Ah! Cruell and bunexperienc'd Councellor, cri'd Hyppolitus] O remedies more painefull then the disease it selfe! I am in the wrong [repli'd Polexander] 'tis true I should have stai'd the prescribing you those last remedies, till you had lost all hope. Forget them till there be need [deare Hippolitus] an in the meane time go on to relate to me your fortune. I have told it you all [repli'd Hyppolitus.] What have you told me [repli'd Polexander?] That I loved [added Hyppolitus] and lov'd a personage as insensible and as great an Enemy to love as your Majesty. I am very glad [continued Polexan­der] for having that conformity with your Mistris: since without it, I know well you would leave me as some Barbarian, that could not polish or civilize himselfe in the a­bode of politenesse and civility it selfe.

Thus ended the first converse of Polexander and Hyppolitus; and all the time of ou [...] voyage, they had at every foot the like; and Polexander, alwaies desirous to oblige Hyppolitus to relate his story to him could never draw other thing from him but that he Knew it as well as himselfe, and how it consisted in this only, that he lov'd an in­sensible beauty. In the meane time, Hyppolitus visibly lost that lustre and freshnesse which made him admired at the first meeting. He did seldome sleep or eate; He never sung but when Polexander pres'd him to it, and towards the end he sung so weakly, that we judg'd him entring into some dangerous disease. Polexander strove to comfort and cheere him; and to draw him from this depth of sadnesse, made him hope his Mistris would not be so insensible as he imagined.

To make me hope with reason [answered Hyppolitus] it behoves your Majesty to make tryall on your selfe, and acknowledg whither you may be capable of being sen­sible. No, no, Sir, do not make a proofe so difficult. 'Tis done already, and in saying so he held his peace, and after he had some while mused: Dye, dye [said he] unfortu­nate Hyppolitus] and by death finde that which thou couldst not get, ether by neg­lect, absence, or oblivion.

At last we came to Nantes, where Polexander was receiv'd yet with a greate Mag­nificence then he had been in any of the other Townes on the River of Loire▪ Hyppoli­tus was the one cause of his disquiet: But he was too generous to abandon him in the State he was. He besought him to think on his cure, and call his courage and Fortune to [Page 225] second his love. I would faine make use of your councell; said the languishing Hyppo­litus, but my owne weaknesse opposeth it; and the more I endeavour to bring my pas­sion to obedience, the more rebellious I find it. 'Tis your virtue Sir, tis that alone which I call to the reliefe of my infirmity: Have pitty on a wretch who implores your assistance. Lend your hand to one, from whom you have taken the strength of uphold­ding him selfe! Be sensible by commiseration, if you cannot be so by love! and if you will not heale a heart which you have cover'd with wounds, yet give a testimoniall at least, that you have a feeling, and participate of his misery.

I speak to your Majesty in this manner, because I see so great a resembiance betwixt you and the Saint I adore, that I continually perswade my selfe, if I could but see you once touch'd with my afflictions, my Mistris would at last become exorable. Polexan­der, who was exceedingly astonish'd at the beginning of this speech, came out of it by the artificiall conclusion. And to content Hyppolitus, he protested to him, he was ex­treamely sensible of his miss-fortunes, and wish'd he knew the meanes to overcome them. These promises brought back a little courage to Hyppolitus, and in a moment He regain'd new strength and, beseeching Polexander to stay for him at Nantes two dayes, he parted thence with two Squires and a Page, and was a day and a halfe in his Journey. He return'd not more merry, but more resolute then when he parted, and then assur'd Polexander, he had an intention to follow his first advice, and to overcome by absence and forgetfullnesse, what he could not otherwayes subdue. He told him more, that having vainly attempted divers meanes to mollifie his Mistris obdurate heart, he intenended to forsake France, and in His company to seek the recovery from his malady. Polexander was so good, that without thinking on what he was, He often­times imbrac'd Hyppolitus, promisd to make him happy, and to confirme him in his de­signe, I will (said he) propose to you an exchange, of which 'tis possible you may ap­prove: Leave an ingratefull Mistris for an acknowledging friend. Let friendship take the place of Love; and to give your mind an object worthy it, make it amorous of honor and immortality. Take the Exercise of Armes for a counterpoyson to that melan­choly which devours you, and in lieu of shedding teares, poure forth the blood of your Enemies. Surely 'tis farre more honourable to command men then to serve a Child; and to acquire a name through perilous adventures, then to ruinate your virtue by wo­manish imployments, or rather effeminate idlenesse. Let's leave Hyppolitus, let's leave to women what is proper to women; and since we are beleev'd to be men, let's try to do such actions as may not belye the opinion is had of us. The painting which be­comes us best, is the dust, sweat, and blood wherewith we are cover'd in fight▪ and the wounds we receive then, are the beauties and charmes which should winn all generous hearts. I perceive well that you condemne this my opinion: but I know not how to help it, thus farre I am rude. Though there be a great difference (repli'd Hyppolitus) betwixt your Majesties humour and mine, yet shall there be no contrariety in our wills: I submit absolutely all my reason to yours. I condemne all you approve not, and how sweet soever Love exerciseth his Empire o're my heart, since you professe your selfe his Enemy, I will no more brag in being one of his slaves. Polexander replying not, but with a [...]mile, at this gallant talk, told Hyppolitus, he lov'd him far more a Soldier, then he had done being an Amorist. The very day of this Declaration, Potexander departed from Nantes, and with Sailes and Oares hastned to his fleet. It would be trouble some to tell you all the Canaryans did to testifie to their King, the joy they had in reviewing him. He went into all the Vessells, prais'd the love and fidelity of the Captaines and Souldiers, told them he had not forsaken them, but to make himselfe more worthy their affection, and imbracing the most eminent, assured them he was ready to be their follower to the end of the world. By such an obliging and humane fashion of expres­sing his mind, Polexander made his Subjects know he would faine have already been at the Canaryes. The Vessell prepar'd to carry him, cannot be compar'd but to the statelynesse of that, in which you cross'd the Ocean. Assoon as Hyppolitus, Alcippus, Diceus and my selfe were come aboord him, all the fleet was warn'd, by a Canon shot, to set sayle. Every one perform'd his charge in a marvelous good order, and with a very favourable wind we left the Coasts of France. When we were in sight of the Spa­nish [Page 226] shores, Polexander would needs make it appeare to his Enemies, that he was suffi­ciently powerfull and couragious to set on them in their owne Houses. He therefore sent six of his lightest[?] men of Warre, and himselfe entring into one of the Ports of Ga­licia, burnt many ships, landed, forc'd a Town extreamly rich, took foure or five hun­dred prisoners, and so set sayle again after he had left in Spaine so glorious tokens of his sensibility. After that the Portugalls felt what a dangerous thing 'twas to get th [...]mselves powerfull Enemies: For Polexander abandon'd and gave in prey, as by right of reprisall to the Canaryans, all they could meet with in Portugall. He himself cast Anchor before Lisbone walls; and to terrifie the Inhabitants, discharged, in three dayes, above four thou­sand Cannon shot on the Towne. Their King received that affront, without the meanes of repelling it, because he was surpris'd, and the King my Master before he would with­draw, sent and told him by a Herald, that he would hold him for a heartlesse Prince, if he himself did not presently take armes, and be sensible of the injury had been done him, and so we presently set Saile and steerd on our course. He thought no more on Portugal or Spaniard, when his Sentinells discovered many Sailes at the entry of the Streights This Fleet, compos'd of many great Gallyons, and other vessells of Warre; put roome▪ ward to Sea, assoone as they had descried us, and getting the wind of us, made it ap­pear they had command to fight with us. Polexander, unwilling to lose so faire an occa­sion, put his Army in Batalia, and animating his Soldiers by a short and powerfull Orati­on, went the first himselfe to assault the Enemy. The fight was indeed very long and fu­rious, and though the Spanyards shew'd spirit enough, yet had they all been lost there, but that the night favoured their flying. The King seeing himselfe victorious, sent a squa­dron of his ships after the run-awayes, which gave them a sprightfull chase, and himselfe the while having taken a view of his gayn and losse, retir'd to take a little rest after so long a toyle, But he was much hindred by a lamentable spectacle which presented it selfe to his Eyes, at his entrance into his Cabin. He saw there the faire Hyppolitus all in blood, and wounded in divers dangerous places. Imagine with your selfe (if you please) how great his affright was, and how much his Sorrow, to see in so sad a plight, a person that was so deare to him. He cried out as loud as he could, and being scarce able to stand, fail'd little of falling quite backwards. Hyppolitus who gaz'd on him with dying Eyes, (Imagined he would recover) and in that opinion, putting forth his right hand to him with such an action as was capable to peirce to a feeling even insensibly it selfe? Sir (said he) with a weake voyce, fly not the miserable Hyppolitus. She is as she ought to be, to be pleasing in your Eyes Polexander, at these words, melted into teares, and coming neerer Hyppolitus, Infortunate that I am, (said he to himselfe) what have I gotten that is to be compared to my losse? But deare Hyppolitus (he added stooping to see his wounds) do not despayre of life. your wounds, may be, are not so dangerous. At that speech Hyppolitus smyl'd, and taking the King by the hand, No, no Sir (said he) they are not dangerous, Nevertheles, since tis not in your power to undertake for what is to come, command (if you please) your people to retire, that I may discover to you a secret which ought not to be known by any but your selfe. Hereupon, Polexander, bid all withdraw except the two Squires and Hyppolitus Page. He rais'd himselfe a little by their help, and casting his eyes downwards as ashamed: Look on me well [said he to Polexander] and take notice of the unfortunate Princesse de Foix, who, to overcome your contempt and cruelty, hath been compel'd by her too violent passion, to take the habit of a man, and the name of Hypolitus. But I ought not to complaine of my change, since I am obliged to it, for the pity yow[?] have had of me. Yea Polexander [said she in another tone,] tis to this habit onely that I ow thy compassion, for thou wouldst never have had any, if my disguize had not hindered thee from knowing me. I am now dying [ingrateful man] but I dye contented, since my life was not pleasing to you. But I deceive my selfe, or you are not to be beleeved. Now I please you, for I am covered with blood and wounds. Looke on me well therefore, and preserve that cruelty which I have so long contented withall. I now love it, when it is▪ advantagious to me. Polexander was so surprized to heare all this, and so lively touched with Hypolitus amorous and pitifull words, that he could not retaine his sighes nor teares. He kneeled downe by this dying Princesse, and ta­king her by the hand Madam [said he] by what indignation of heaven do I see my selfe [Page 227] guilty of the most horrible crime it ever punish'd: Hyppolitus, shewing the joy she recei­ved from Polexander's greif, Deare Polexander [said she, interrupting him] I give thanks to my wounds, since they have purchased me farre more then J hoped; and I wish they were not mortall. Your compassion renders me my first hopes; and seeing you so good as to suffer me, curse my destiny that plucks me from the World. But what [said [...]?] No, No, I have lived long enough, and beleeve certainly, that some great obstacle opposing my possesing you, my precipitated end is an evidence that Heaven would not have me long time unfortunate. I have almost a desire to accuse death for being too slow, for I feare least having but a moment to live, it be wrong'd by some new disaster. But if my blood, if my wounds▪ and my approaching death do truly touch you, and that you spend no feigned teares, if you feel that sorrow you make shew of; promise me, that my memory shall be deare to you, and that you will not suffer any, in your presence, to blame the Love of the weake Princesse De Foix▪ Polexander, who was wel nigh dissolv'd in teares during the Princesse speech, forc'd his just resentment to answer to it, and holding her hands between his own; I swear (said he) by what is most holy, to do [...] for your contentment, all that you can wish; and I would to Heaven, my life were pretious enough to redeeme yours! You might then be secur'd of a long life.

The Princesse shutting her eyes, and scarce being able to forme a word, Since I know you in that resolution [said she] I have liv'd long enough; Farewell, deare Polexan­der▪ And with that word she dye [...] The King gave such a shri [...]k in seeing her depart▪ that wee all ran to him, to know what was betided him. When the Squires of the de [...] Lady had related to us her adventures, we were no more constant then they: Every one bewail'd that losse, and Polexander, in particular, was so [...] sensible of it, that it went neere to cost him his life. Diceus, in the mean ti [...]e, embalm'd the body of the Prin­cesse, and, at the request of her Page which was a disguised Maiden, and her to Sq [...]es, she was carried into another Ship. They i [...]treated [...]kewise Polexander to be pleas'd that they might return into Fr [...] with the body of their Mistris. At first he denyed that leave, because he would have brought them to the Canaries: Yet at last, impor­tun'd by their reasons, he permitted them to return homewards. He, on the other side, after his being three or four dayes in-exorable to the Petitions of his servants, suffered himselfe to be perswaded to the finishing his voyage.

All his Shipps then being returned with a great many prisoners, he stood for the Cana­ries: But the King's griefe ceas'd not by the absence of the object which had caus'd it. He lamented the faire Hyppolitus as she had been his own Sister, or to say better; as if effectively he had guilty been of her death. His griefe spread into his followers, and made them lose all sence of joy for their victory. Those who considered Polexander, farre more then they did the King, went a great deale farther: for they found fault with their own good Fortune, and detested such happy successe as had been bought by the teares of their Master, and the blood of so rare a Princesse. But time, which to this day ne­ver found malady which it could not cure, by little and little, gave remedy to our Master; and presented him so many new imployments, that he was forc'd [spight of him­selfe] to forget those which sorrow had made so deare to him. When he was near the coasts of Morocco, he learnt of certaine Merchants that were sayling into Scotland, how the Prince Abdelmelec, eldest Sonne to the King of Morocco, had proclaim'd the most glorious Turney, that had ever been seen in Europe, or Africa. Our young Prince seem'd he would be glad to see this Moorish bravery, and breake a lance in memory of the Princesse De foix. To dash the businesse I exhibited to him the great necessity of his presence with his Subjects, and how much a delaying might be advantagious to his Enemies. We came from beating them [said he smiling] and I think they will not be able, in hast, to put themselves in case againe to assault us But Governour, [added h [...]] how long do you think I intend to be on this Voyage? Within eight dayes, at most, I shall have seen all that I desire. 'Tis so little a time, that the least calme, or weakest Tempest, may make us lose more. After thus much spoken, he cal'd for all the Officers of his Army; and making a faire Oration, by which he immortaliz'd their valour and fidelity, intreated them to intimate to the Queen his Mother and his Sub­jects, the newes of his returning; and when [said he] you arrive at the Canaries, di­vide [Page 228] equally al you have gotten from the Portingall and Spanyard.

His Commanders threw themselves at his feet, to beseech him to lead them whither he was going; but when he had made known, that his absence would be only but for three or four dayes, and desired not to be known in Morocco, they took their leave, & with al their vessells got to the happy end of their navigation. In the meane time, the King my Master, causing al the badges, and other things of markabout his ship, to be ta­ken off, and his Servants to be clad in the French Fashion, entred with two little ves­sells that followed him into the River of Tansif. He landed assoone as he could, and commanding me to wait for him in his Ship, took no other followers with him, then Alcippus, Diceus and ten or twelve Slaves. At his taking Horse, he commanded them expresly, to name him for a Frenchman; and began a journey, which instead of eight dayes lasted neer six Moneths. I confesse yet, that as long as I live, I shall repent me for not following him; for as I understood by Alcippus and Diceus, there will never beseen any thing equal to the wonders of readiness, valour, & courtesie, which Polexan­der shew'd in Abdelmelec's Turney. 'Twas there the Wicked Angell, jealous of the greatnesses which were infallibly promis'd, made him see that dangerous picture which troubled his reason, dazled his eyes, and made him lose the fairest of his time, under a deceiptfull hope of an imaginary happynesse. But to tell you, in few words, what pas­sed at Morocco; Polexander there overthrew Abdelmelec, and after two different Combats, compel'd him to renounce [at least publiquely] all the love which he seemed to beare to Alcidiana Queen of the Inaccessible Island; he came after back to me loa­den with that princesse's Pictures; and to heare him speake, it seem'd those painted tables where treasures incomparably more pretious then all the Diamonds, pearls, and other riches which he had lately gotten from the Portingall. He had yet one of those por­traicts in his hands▪ and made me take notice of al the strokes of the Pensil and beauties of it, when a young African Lady, very faire and desolate, cast her selfe at his feet, and besought him, by th [...] honour he had wonne at Morocco, rather by that compassion to which his extream Noblenesse obliged him in the behalfe of afflicted persons, to take her into his protection, and aveng her of the most [...]sereant and wicked man that A­frica ever brought forth.

The young Prince look'd not to be twice intreated, neither suffring my Remonstran­ces nor intreaties return'd with that Lady, [called Izilia, if I be not deceived,] and to accompany him, would have none but Alcippus and Diceus. I will neither tel you whither he went, or what he did no [...] how he came back; for notwithstanding a [...] the intreaties I could make to one and the other of those his two faith [...]l servants; I have not been able to get from them any thing, but that Polexander most expres­ly forbad them to speak of that Iourney. But whither his adventures were good or bad; so it was, that he returned so weake and pale, after more then five moneths absence, that I might easily judg he had been extreamely wounded, or extreame­ly sick. I acknowledg now, that I abused his goodnesse much in the speech I had with him about that Journey: But his Heroick Soule, incapable to receive any alteration, endur'd my liberty without shew of being mov'd; and never oppos'd but his own naturall sweetnesse, to the sharpnesse of al my reprehensions. I must confesse, my deare Master, (said he) I have done amisse, and have not taken enough into my consideration, the Queen my Mother nor you. But you have so often taught me, that there is no voice which ought so sweetly to touch the eares of a virtuous Man, as that of a miserable creature which reclaimes his assistnce, and I made so certaine an experience of that truth, when the unfortunat Izilia related to me her afflictions, that I could not resist the violence wherewithal her complaints drew me to the place where she had need of my courage. But I wrong your in­structions, to go about to justifie my action: I have done that which humanity commanded me. 'Tis fit now I should do what Nature, obligation, & Regality expect from me. Let us go then to my deare Master, wipe off [if it be possible] the [...]eares of the best Mother in the world. Let's goe, and acknowledg the cares and [...]ravells she hath taken for us; and essay to give [...]o so many people which love us, some proofes of our sensibility. Assoon as this was sayd, he commanded to hoyse sayles▪ [Page 229] and after a long and furious tempest, cast Anchor in one of the Ports of this Island. But O Heaven! what strange alterations found he in his Court! How much did he repent the deferr [...]g his returne! 'Twas told him at his arrivall, the Queen his Mother was more afflicted then ever, since some ten or twelve dayes before, the Princesse Cydaria had been by a great number of strangers carried away. Polexander, afflicted as much as possibly the best natur'd man in the world could be, came to his Mother, witness'd, by his unfained griefe, an extream sorrow for her affliction, besought her to pre­serve her selfe for his and the Subjects good; and promis'd he would never be at rest till he had restor'd to her the Princesse her Daughter. You may well beleeve that Good Queen had receiv'd an extreame content in reviewing so worthy an Heyre of the great Periander, if the death of that Prince, and the rape of her Daughter had not made her incapable of all kind of pleasure. On the contrary, it was to her a redoubling of her vexation, in the estate wherein she was. For the presence of so accomplish'd a Son, re­new'd the losse of a Father that was no lesse so; renew'd likewise her ancient sorrowes, and reduced her to the incapacity of giving any thing to the returne of the Prince, but teares. Yet dar'd she not discover to him the true cause of them, but, by a wisdome worthy her selfe, had rather Polexander should suspect it to be for her too much af­fection to her Daughter, then that he should know, her extraordinary affliction was from the want of power to avenge the murder of the great Periander. The King my Master made the same construction of her teares as She desired; and thinking that the losse of Cydaria was the sole cause, He, by consequence, beleev'd▪ he might give her an ample testimony of his love, in forgetting his own interests for the safety of his Si­ster. He understood the Prince of Scotland was gone after the Ravishers; and that news made him the more impatient, till he was shipped. The very same day he set sayle, and steering again his course towards Africa, met with many of his ships, which after a long vaine chase, were returning to the Canaryes. Some of them He sent back to the Quee [...] his Mother, & commanding the rest to stand off at Sea, yet some twelve or fifteen daies, made along to the West, with an intent to saile to the Pyrates Island. But the next day after that resolution, his Vice-Admirall came to him, and said; that the Prince of Scotland, after he had given chase to those that stole away Cydaria, at last fetcht them up in sight of the fortresse of Guargetssem; and after a furious combat, the Ravishers, finding themselves the weakest, had put fire to their powder, and involved, in one same flame, the vanquish'd and the vanquishers. Vnfortunate that I am, cri'd Polexander▪ must my return be remembred by the losse of the Daughter, and desolation of the Mo­ther? Deplorable Polexander! hast thou the heart to carry these sad newes to a person whose griefs should be more sensible to thee, then thine own? No, no, be not the sad bringer of so Tragicall an accident: Present not thy selfe before Axiamira, since thou canst not do it without increasing her afflictions. Whilst he was thus lamenting, I came into his Cabin, and seeing Alcippus durst not speak a word to qualifie his passion, I made use of the authority which my age and condition gave me. Hearkning therefore to him a little while: If (said I at last) I should condemn your complaints, I should find fault with the most just sensiblenesse that is in nature. When we lose those whom blood or affection makes deare unto us, we lose a part of our selves, and by cosequence, should seeme to be our owne Enemies, if we, for their losse, should make of shew of lamentation. But Sir, this sorrow must have its rules & bounds, and must not imitate the griefe of Children, who fal'n into the durt content themselves with crying, and never strive to get out. Besides these reasons, and others, which con­cern your condition, you ought to take into consideration the Queen your Mo­ther; you ought to give her the Example of comforting her selfe; and by your constan­cy, facilitate the meanes of supporting her mis-fortunes: All things sort well with you, to go render her this necessary proofe of your good disposition. She now bewayls your absence, as well as your Sisters. Go and ease her of one part of her feares and disquiet; and since 'tis impossible for you to give her all she desires, give her yet (at least) all which she desires with reason. I know tis vexatious and irksome to you, to signifie to her the death of your Sister: But it is not of necessity, that you should, your selfe, bring her that unwelcome and heavy newes. Besides, Axiamira's virtue is no common [Page 230] virtue; She is of proofe against the greatest Accidents; and Fortune, who hath often violently justled her, hath not been able to stirr her. At that word, Polexander inter­rupting me, Governour (said he) I yeeld to so many reasons, and will not be [...]pbrayded, that for being too nice, I forsook one sick, who might have receiv'd comfort by my care and diligence. Presently the Pilot had command to returne to the Canaryes: and, as if the wind had been govern'd by that Prince, it shifted in a moment from East to West, and so fresh a gale, that the second day we discry'd the prodigious Mountaine of the Isle of Teneriffe. There we met with an obstacle, which was as the presage of those hind'rances, where withall Fortune went about to oppose the prosperities of Po­lexander. Four-Pyrate [...]hips, which domineer'd in those Seas, discharg'd all at once on our two Vessells; and not thinking to meet with any great resistance, came close up to us, without any more. My generous Master, finding in this occasion wherewithall to exercise his great courage, made it appeare to the Rovers they had been very ill advised. He so affrighted them by the terror of his blowes, but particularly by the death of their Captaine, that they gave over the fight, and contented themselves with the losses they had sustained. Polexander was more hard to be pleas'd, and would not overcome by halfes: He hotly pursued the Run-awayes, sunck two of their ships, and, but for the ill weather which seem'd to envy his victory, it had not been unperfected. But of this I in­tended not to accuse Fortune, if by a pernicious sequell, that Jealous-one had not made it appeare, she had a designe, not to save the Prince's Enemies, but to ruine the Prince himselfe. To bring it to passe, she arm'd the Sea and the Winds, and commanded them to wage Warr with him: and after she had held him many dayes and nights without hope of safety, cast him into a Port wherein he made a more dangerous shipwrack, then if his Vessell had been split upon some Rock. His ship then open and leaking in many places, and unfurnished in her principall parts▪ hazardously entred the mouth of a little River, which our Pilots knew not, and not finding water enough, insensibly ran in on the owze. The generous Polexander presently came to assist Alcippus, Diceus, and my selfe, that could no more; and assuring us, we were out of all danger, said, that if we had yet but a little courage, we might instantly enjoy our good fortune. Get out my friends, let's get out of this sad abode; and let's see whether the Land will be more kind to us then the water; and whilst our Mariners resume their Spirits, let us take the benefit of that rest which an extream pleasant shore presents us. Alcippus overcame his sicknesse to follow Polexander, went a land with him; Diceus follow'd presently after; and I, who had rather dye then be from my Prince, caus'd my selfe to be carryed on shore by foure of our slaves. The ayre of the Land streightwayes dissipating a part of our sicknesse, we found our selves comforted and [...]as'd in lesse then nothing. Polex­ander and Alcippus climb'd to the top of a Rock not farre from us, to see whether we were arriv'd in a place that was inhabited. But seeing neither men nor houses, and the night too approaching, they return'd where they had left me, and told me, we must set up Tents on the shore, to passe the comming night better then we had done the eight or ten precedent. Diceus receiving this order from me, went back into the ship, and commanded the Officers of the Kings Cabin, to go set up the Kings pavillion in the most commodious place they could find. All which was don with so much diligence, that, in lesse then an houre, we found our selves very well lodg'd. When every one had eaten, we set Sentinells on the parts that lead to us, for feare of being surpris'd, and gave them expresse order not to disperse themselves for what cause soever. This done, we went to Bed; Scarce had the Sun begun to whiten the top of the Rock, at whose feet we had pitch'd our Tent, when Polexander call'd Alcippus and my selfe, and told [...]s we slept as profoundly as if we were in a friends Country. We streight clad us, and that while the Prince went to relieve the Sentinells, and put some little Court of Guard about his Tents, to make some little resistance, in case we were set on; and for­bad us on paine of death, to observe him as a King before any person whatsoever that should hap to come neer him. This being thus ordered, he commanded his horses to be landed, but they had been so Sea-beaten▪ they could hardly uphold themselves. Yet there was a Barbary, white as Snow, which Polexander had bought to combate with Abdelmelec, that took heart assoone as he was landed, and refreshing himselfe on the [Page 231] Grasse, seem'd by his neighing to assure the King his Master, that he might make use of him. The Prince, after he had taken a little repast amongst all his followers, took horse and Alcippus and Diceus following him a foot, travers'd a plaine which stretch'd it selfe along by the River, and grew broader in other Lands, as farr off as the eye could extend. After he had ridden three or four miles, he descended by a pleasant slope hanging of a hill, into so delight some valleys were it for the little Brookes which divi­ded them, for the Fountaines which slid from the top of the little hills, for the meadow, coverd with a thousand severall kindes of flowers, or for the little woods which invirond them so that oftentimes considering them, I have said to my selfe, that the ancient Gre­cians had good cause to chuse the abode of their Heroes Soules in the Islands of the At­lantick Sea. If Polexander were ravished at so faire a Scite. he was farre more, in meeting with those that inhabited it. They were Shepheards so handsome, and Shepheardesses so fayre and neatly clad, that in seeing them Polexander thought on the Knights and La­dies of the French Court, & beleeved he saw them represent & act some Pastoral in their rurall habits. The first he met withall not a jot wondred to see him so richly clad and so proudly mounted. On the contrary they came to him with the grace and civility of Courtiers, and questionlesse said many neat and witty things to him, but the Prince could not understand them, and by consequence, make no answer.

He made them speake oftentimes, to comprehend somewhat of their Language, and re­taining some of their words: thought it had somewhat of the Arabick. He therefore spake to them in that Language, but they understood him not, so that, to expresse him­selfe, he was constraind to make use of Signes, instead of Words. The Shepheards supply­ing by the quicknesse of their wit, the obscurity of the Language by which Polexander strove to make himselfe understood, apprehended, that he ask'd the Name of their Island and the place where Strangers used to be received. They forthwith offered themselves to accompany him thither, and told him the Name of their Isle, But he could not divine what they said, two Young Shepheards leaving their flocks in the custody of their Com­panions, put themselves before Polexander, and making a signe he should follow them, lead him from those Vallyes, by the most pleasant way that can be imagined. Al cippus and Diceus were ravished with their Adventure, and following merrily their Master and his guides, quickly got to the top of those Hills which kept them from the Mid-daies Sun. There they saw Plaines. but covered with Flowers, and cut crosse by many wayes, which outwent the fairest Garden-alleyes and parks of Europ, As they came neere to a Wood of Palmes and Cedars, they saw leap out of it, a Hind more white then snow. She was wounded above her right shoulder: The Arrow which had given the wound yet stuck in, it, & paind her so much that she fell on her legs at every ten paces, & ran her nose to the ground. The Shepheards staid to see the fal of the dear, & well deeming by whom she was hunted, made signs to Polexander, that would have said somthing of great importance. He soon knew it, for as he had his eyes fixed on the Hind he heard a horn, and turning his head towards the Wood, saw come out of it, amongst many Lad [...]es on horsback, a Cha­riot, drawn by fonre horses as white as his own. The Chariot was uncovered, and for shape almost like a throne. A very faire Maiden, clad like a Nymph, was the Conduct­resse, and to guide the Horses, was set at the feet of another Nymph so richly clad, that 'twill be hard for me to describe it to you. She held a Bow in one hand, an Arrow in the other, and wore a Quiver crosse her shoulders. As soone as the Shepherds saw her, they gave a great shout in flying, and forgot (to our mishap) to make signe to Po­lexander, that he should follow them: He stood firme, and desired to have the whole content. But as he was intentively beholding the Troop of Ladies, and noting her that was mounted on the Chariot, the Hind came and fell almost between his Horses legges, and by that unlook'd-for fall, so affrighted him, that flying from under Polex­ander, he had almost given him a most sensible affront. But the Prince, who was the best and bravest Hors-man of his age, corrected him with so much art, and knew so readily to tame his fury, that the faire huntresses, and especially She that sate highest in the Chariot, making a stand, stood still awhile to behold the strangers readinesse. After he had made himselfe admired on Hors-back, he alighted, and delivering his horse to Alcippus, drew neer to the Chariot of the faire, and fatall huntresse. She cast her [Page 232] eyes on him, and judging him a stranger by his habit, spake to two Ladies that were neer her, and withall commanded the driver of the Chariot to put on. The Horses, stirred by the whip, fell to their gallop, and the faire Troop riding with full speed, got out of sight, as if it had been a dreame or an inchantment. Polexander, on the con­trary, stood fix'd, as if he had been trans form'd into a stone, and grew pale on the sud­daine, as if he had been ready to have swoonded; Alcippus perceiv'd it, and ran to him. Ah my friend (said Polexander, what have I seen? The two Shepherds, who had left him, return'd as soone as the Ladies were gone, and seeing Polexander so wan, ima­gin'd his horse had hurt him; and in that opinion intreated him, by their signes, to rest himselfe in one of their Cottages. Polexander, understanding by their gestures the curteous offers they made him, and besides desirous wholly to gaine them, yeelded to returne with them. He would not get againe on horse-back, but leaning on Alcippus, began to walk gently, and in going, asked him whither he had not noted (among so many faire huntresses) her, which stood up-right in the Chariot, and whither he did not remember whom she was like. Alcippus answering him, that he had not so much time; tis most certaine (said he) that either all we have seen is a meer illusion, or that admi­rable huntresse must be Alcidiana.

The Shepheards turn'd their heads at that Name, and many times repeated it, by which the King my Master was assured of what he imagined, and by that lost himselfe. Zel­matida, Smiling at the pleasant conclusion of the Viceroy; 'twas then truly Alcidiana (said he?) The very same, answered the good old man; and mark how Polexander had it manifested.. When the Shepheards had brought him to their Cottages, and entertain'd him there, not with all the magnifience, but with all the Gentilenesse of a Palace; One of them thought on somewhat which might contribute very much to the Princes contentment, and letting him know he went to fetch it, assured him that he would be back againe within two dayes at the latest. Polexander signified to him an extreame sensibility of his courtesie, and to omit nothing of that which might acquire him the favour of his hostes, pass'd over a part of the day in doing what they proposed to him. At evening, he retyr'd with Alcippus and Diceus, and giving the Later instructions of all he would have me know, sent him to me all night; and he find­ing me where I was left, made me know the Kings pleasure, and to have it executed staid all the next day with me. We unloaded our Ship, and transported to the next Town all that was in her: Which done, Diceus return'd to receive new commands, but at his arrivall meeting the King in an estate farre differing from that he had left him in, forgot all he had to say to him from me, and thought of nothing but the means to help his sick Master. Polexander might well be term'd so, for since the fatall meeting with that divine huntresse, he was faln into such a deep melancholy, that even Alcippus had much adoe to draw a word from him. He sigh'd thrice and foure times in utter­ing a word; and rather answering his own thoughts then Alcippus questions. Tis true (said he) Abdelmelec is as generous as he is rash; and since he had a mind to lose him­selfe, he could not doe it in a more high enterprize. But how I pitty him for not ha­ving seen but through a very obscure veyle, this so shining and lively a light, which makes him contemn all others. Certainly those pictures of Alcidiana which he hath are the works of ignorance or envie; and I may say, after what I have seen, that Prince adores a Divinity to him unknown. Alcippus, desirous to qualifie the disquiet of this new Lover, Me thinks (said he) that instead of lamenting Abdelmelecs fortune, you ought to extoll your own, and give thanks to Love, that since he hath inspir'd you with a desire to serve▪ ALCIDIANA, He hath not only made you worthy of her, but by a singular priviledge hath conducted you, as by the hand, where your service may receive their reward. Ah, flat [...]erer, replyd Polexander; dar'st thou, who hast seen that Princesse, make me beleeve I am worthy to serve her? The love thou bear'st me, suffers the not well to consider me. Thou represente [...]t to thy selfe all things to my advantage, and I doubt not but thou beleev'st thou doest it justly. But I, who am freed from the love of my selfe, and can be a good Iudge in mine own cause; I look on my fortune on that side it ought to be regarded, and am not dazled, as thou art, with I know not what luster, which a false light casts on it. Know my friend, that I am absolutely [Page 233] unworthy of Alcidiana's chaines; that the least of her slaves hath those qualities to which I can never pretend, and that fortune hath thrown me on these inaccessible coasts for no other end, but to engage me in a dispaire, which surpasseth the dispaire of all that have been unfortunate from the beginning of the world. Wouldst thou have mor [...] palpable, or more visible proofes o [...] this truth, then the contempt wherewith Alcidiana cast her eyes on me? Think on the circumstances of her meeting. Examine al [...] that pas­sed in that little time she permitted me to see her. Weigh seriously her precipitated de­parture; and thou wilt confesse with me, that her eyes and silence have declar'd me un­worthy of the honour to be reckned amongst her slaves. I intend to contest with your Majesty (replyd Alcippus; For having not your light and knowledge I stop at things which sence makes me see, and cannot as you penetrate into soules and discover the se­crets of thoughts. And not to lye to you, if your discourse had not taken off some­what, which hood-winkd mine eyes without perceiving it, I should yet have drawn very advantagious consequences from the meeting with Alcidiana and maintaine stifly my be­liefe of your giving her more cause of admiration then contempt. All her Nymphes, for­getting the chase, and even not seeing the Hynde which fell at their feet, press'd to come neer you, and pointing with their fingers, seemd to say to one another, that they had ne­ver seen your equall. As you love me Alcippus (said Polexander, interrupting him) make an end of this discourse. Thou makest me madde in thinking to comfort me. I know what my destiny is, but as sadde as tis, tis to me deare, tis to me glorious, since tis perfected by the hands of Alcidiana. By this answer, he impos'd silence on Alcippus, and beginning to walke in his Chamber, was about an houre in that exercise: At last he remembred himsel [...], and calling Diceus askd him whether he had brought Abdelme­lec's bucklers. They are in your Majesties trun [...]kes replyd Diceus. I would faine have them, said the Prince. We must goe for them then replyd Diceus. The place where I have left them is not so farre hence, but that I can be quickly backe againe. But Sir (said he) if the Viceroy presse me upon your staying, what shall I say to him? Thou shalt tell him (replyd the Prince all that thou thinkest fittest to keep him where he is. Diceus pre­sently took one of his hosts Horses, and in full speed came to the Towne where I was retyred. I was wonderfully astonish'd at so quick a returne, and askd him the cause. Tis nothing (said he) nor no other then the curiosity of a great Lord of this Isle: He de­sires to see Abdelmelecs bucklers, and I have ridden all last night that he might not long expect his desir'd contentment. After he had told me this tale, he took the two buck­lers, and returnd with as much speed as he came. Polexander, seeing him come back, commended his love and diligence, and with an excesse of joy, forgetting what he was embrac'd him a long time in his armes. Then he set Alcidiana's Pictures in their best light, and considering them well: I am confirm'd (said he to Alcippus) in my first opi­nion; These Pictures are nothing like Alcidiana. I saw the Princesse so little (replyd Alcippus) that my memory represents her not to me, but very confusedly. Yet, if that Idea of her which I retain hathany conformity with the Original, I find not these Coppies any way do resemble her. Assuredly (said Polexander with a litle passion) they are nothing at all like her. Where find you that sweet and majesticall livelinesse, which sparkles in her eyes? or that fresh and cleere whitnesse of her complexion and brest? No, no, there is nought here of Alcidiana. Only a man may see by some strokes, that tis the portraict of some excellently faire creature. In this discussion was the Prince, when the Shepheard who two dayes before had left him, entred his Chamber, and presenting to him another Shepherd, of a very good aspect for an old man, made him understand by signes, that, that was it which he had promised him. The old Shepheard presently beginning to speake, sa­luted Polexender in Arabian, and by that language, made him sufficiently conceive the good office done him by the young Shepheard. The Prince went and imbrac'd him to signifie how sensible he was of that obligation. After that satisfaction▪ he streight did the like to the old man, and told him in Arabicke, that he was too happy in meeting with one to whom he might make himselfe understood. This venerable old man answe­red him, his joy was not lesse; and should he reap no other fruit of his travells, then the tafting the sweetnesse of his conversation, he would (all the rest of his life) blesse that curiosity which at first made him to undertake them. Tis for me Father (replyd Polex­ander) [Page 234] to give thanks to fortune for shipwracking me on this Iland. Scarce had I set foot on this Land, but that I was [...] of the happinesse it enjoyes, as one of its na­turall proprieties. In three dayes I met with a thousand causes of conten [...]ment but there are few of them, on which I set so high a price, as on the happinesse of your acquaintance. The old Shepheard thinking in his opinion he had not words good enough to answer these, replyd, by the teares which joy drew from his eyes; and to make an end of all Compliments, besought Polexander to beleeve, that if he could doe him any notable service, he would make more esteeme of that litt [...]e time he had yet to live, then of his forepassed threescore and ten yeares. But (my Lord said he) I beseech you to beleeve my Protestation, without obliging me to perswade you by any Rhetorick. Father, I believe you replyd [...], and without de [...]ay, to put my selfe in possession of that good you so free [...]y give me, I desire (if you please) to entertaine you to my full content, and at leasure the remainder of this day. The old Shepheard bowed, to intimate his readinesse to obey Polexander's commands. Alcippus and Diceus straight took the young Shepheard, and proposing to him some other diversion, to winne him cut of the King's Chamber, left their master with the old man. Polexander made him sit down by him for all his civilities and excu­ses, and told him he was a neighbour to that Iland, a Canaryan by birth, and some­what considerable amongst those of his own Country. That some two monthes since he shipp'd himselfe for Africke▪ but crosse windes putting him from his cou [...]e had for [...]'d [...]s Vessell into a little River of that Iland, the name whereof he k [...]w no [...]. That he Intreated him to know what the Isle was call'd under what kind of Government the people liv'd and whither there might be acce [...]e got ten for them neere any of the Princes or Magistrates. The old Shepheard w [...]o [...]ad been very attentive to all Polexander's demands, seeing he went no [...] one [...]pake to him thus: I have knowne by many experiments▪ that person equally credible have not been equally beleev' [...], and that Truth hath had need o [...] an unusuall assistance to make an impression in our minds. If two men report one same thing, and the one of them is of a condition more [...], or of greater merit then the other, the testimony of that person of eminence, shall be farre otherwise accepted, then the same from a person of a vulgar quality. The thought of this hath made me piuck out of my Ancestors Graves an o [...]d Nobility, which I had there intombd together with my hopes; and to tell you that the habit I weare, is not a signe of my births meane­ [...]esse▪ but of the benefit I have received by the study of Philosophy. I was borne in the [...]plendour of a very ancient Family, bred up in the Court of the Kings of this Island; and growing old in the service of the last deceased, I retyr'd me into a very faire Village▪ a dayes journey hence, to recover among those Shepheards which in­habit there that innocency and quiet whereof the [...]te of Court had dep [...]iv'd me. I think this to be sufficient to gaine credit to [...] course, and to free you from wondring a [...] the hearing my relation of such things as come not within the verge of a Shepheards knowledge. I will first therefore tell you, this I [...]e is called the hap­pie Island and that it is so, and with a great deale of Iustice our Ancestors have gi­ven it that proud Name. Tis besides ca [...]ld the wonderfull, and the inaccessible I [...]and because, by a particular favour from Heaven and Nature, one might say, it privily withdrawes, and hides it selfe from the curiosity of those which search after it: And indeed, never any stranger arriv'd here, but as you have done I meane either by chance or tempest.

This I [...]e is farre greater then it seemes, because it extends not in length as others doe, but properly resembles a Pomegranet. It is waterd with a great many Rivers, Brookes and fountaines. It hath Lakes, Ponds and Forrests of an extraordinary greatnesse. They have harvest twice a yeare; and at all times may be seen on our T [...]ees, fruit appearing in the midst of blossomes, some ripening, and others already [...]pe: We have Mines of all metalls, but the most abundan [...] are those of Gold and Silver. Towards the South we have a plaine Strand o [...] above thirty m [...]es long, environd wit [...] Rockes▪ whence are drawne very faire Diamonds▪ and Emeralds. Towards the East, the Sea ingulphs it selfe in the Land, and receives the Tribute of [Page 235] many little Rivers, which all breed an infinite quantity of fish, within whose shells are found as great and orient Pearles, as those which are fishd in the Eastern Indies. But why doe I number our riches to you. Your curiosity is too generous to be de­lighted among the excrements of the Land and Sea. I shall doe better in entertain­ing you with the manner of our government, with our Lawes and Mannors. This Iland hath been governed from all times by Kings or Queens, for, both the one and the other Sex may indifferently raigne there. For our Lawes they have been estab­lished, rather to put us in mind of those vertues which are naturall to us, then to refraine us from Vices. But I passe by particular Lawes to speake of those of State▪ The first commands us to believe but one God in Heaven, and by consequence to adore but one on Earth. The second forbid our Kings, to take any Stranger Prin­cesses to their Wives; and declares, that if any one undertake to travell against the fundamentall Law of the State; and happens to marry with a stranger, the Children proceeding from that marriage, cannot succeed their Father in any inheritance, if they be not borne in this Iland. This old Law hath been exactly kept even to this day, or to say better, no occasion hath call'd on a necessity of putting it in practice. Yet the last deceass'd King, my good Master gave birth to one; but the Eternall wisdome, which works all for the best, strangled it almost as soone as it was borne. That great Prince (by name Alcidus) leaving the Isle to have the knowledge of o­ther people and Countries then his own, saves himselfe reduc'd to the extremity, of either violating this fundamentall Law, or to leave among the number of the vulgar and private persons, a pretious gage which he had receiv'd from the love of one of the fayrest Princesses of the world. I will sincerely relate to you the History, since thereby I shall make answer to all your questions. To take it then from the be­ginning; you may please to know there is in this Kingdome, a third fundamentall Law, which ordaines, that every yeare the King chuse one of his Sonnes, or some o­ther person of eminent vertue to the end, that as Soveraigne Priest, he make a voy­age to an Iland not farre from this, to pay the tribute of Love, and celebrate the Sa­crifice of alliance, whereto our Predecessors, have engaged us towards the true God which is ador'd in this Island, under the forme of the Sunne. The King Cleonidas, Fa­ther of the late King my Master, commanded that his son with an extraordinary stately preparation and equipage, should g [...]e and present to that Deity, the testimo­ny of his publike acknowledgement. The Prince went that voyage, but came not backe as he set forth. For transported with a desire to see the world, he cross'd the Ocean, and arriv'd in England, where he became desperately in love with a Princesse the Sister of King Edward. She was call'd Phelismonda, and tis to be confess'd, her charmes were so powerfull, her wit so admirable, and her vertues so extraordinary, that when the King my Master disclos'd to me his love to her; I was compell'd to tell him he could not have a more just affection. In that passion he made me his Confident, and Phelismonda chose for her's, an English Lady cal [...]'d Thamiris. Our negotiation pro [...]perd to the contentment of those that imployd us. But alas! the joyes which men gather from the satiating their passions, are pleasures very short and deceitfull. Phelismonda was no sooner married but she saw her selfe persecuted by the King of England, and forc'd to expose her selfe with us, to the mercy of an enraged Sea. O [...]r vessell after it had been long time beaten by the Tempest, was driven to the furthest end of Scotland, where the King my Master caus'd the Queen his Wife to land, for she was extreamly sick, and under [...]anding some dayes after that she was with Child, made an Oath, that he would not re-imbarke till Phelis­monda were deliver'd. We were neere six months among the Savages of that Coun­try, expecting when the Princesse should be brought to bed. But as I have told you, the Eternall wisdome who fore-sees even the least of our actions, had resolv'd the infortunate Phelismonda should give no Kings to this Island; for after the Princesse had undergone many terrible throwes, she dy'd (undelivered) in the armes of the King her Husband. As soone as Alcidus saw her expire, he did what he could to fol­low her, and seeing himselfe hindred by all us that were neer him, he made shew of being comforted, the more freely to put in execution his tragicall designe. But see­ing, [Page 236] at last he was at liberty, he came out of his Cottage where we had got him to retyre, and whilst he saw us busied in preparing his Ship, he threw himselfe into the Sea. I by chance was come to the very place whence he cast him head-long down, and flung me after, either to save, or not to survive him. I was so fortunate, that be­ing destin'd by providence to preserve so worthy a Prince to this Island, I met him at his rising out of the water, and catching him by the haire, drew him to shoare, depriv'd of all sence or understanding. All his Officers running thither, did all they thought fitting to recover him. The wisest of the company judging it conveni­ent to make use of an occasion, so answerable to their intentions, carryed him into his Ship, and commanding all his followers to come aboord, presently left Scotland, and the body of Phelismonde. We had lost sight of that Countries high cli [...]fs, before the unhappy Alcidus came to himselfe. At last he recover'd, and perceiving he was in a place so differing from that where he thought to have been; ask'd as by what miracle this alteration was betyded. We told him what we had done; and he pre­sently accusing us of Treason and ingratitude, would needs make us guilty of Phe­lismonde's death. Tis your malice (cryd he) or may be your poyson that hath thrown her into the Grave. And barbarous as you are, not contented to have pluck [...]d her so cruelly from my embraces, you have forc'd me to leave her deare and precious re­liques to the mercy of wild beasts! Many other words speake he to move us to compassion, and to oblige us to bring him back again to Scotland. But we op­pos'd our reasons to his, and told him, that if he return'd thither, he would finde (in lieu of the faire Phelismonde) but a diffigur'd and frightfull Corps, that would ra­ther terrifie him, then renew the memory of his former love. At last he consented to returne hither. We had a Pilot, who yet lives, his name is Lynceus, and I will say thus much in his praise, that never man knew better the Sea, and the windes, no [...] was like him, capable of a long voyage.

As soone as we had made knowne the Kings pleasure to him, he took his course farre from Land, and after two and twenty dayes sayling, cast Anchor in the Isle of Madera. From thence he would have steer'd hither, but having vainely imploy'd his Art, and the flight of certaine birds, whose brood hath from all times been cu­riously preserv'd by our Priests for the conducting those Vessells which return from the Island of the Sunne: he thought he might doe best to goe and land there, and attend the arrivall of those which should be sent for the solemnity of the yearely sacrifice, whereof I have told you. Alcidus was of his opinion, and thereupon our Ship bore right to that holy Island, and the fourth day entred the Port which carryes the name of the Sunne. The High-Priest receiv'd the King our Master, with tears of joy▪ and gaz'd on him as on a Prince, who after he had been long dead, was mi­raculously rays'd again. Alcidus related his adventures to him, and thinking he had not sufficiently acquitted himselfe of the Commission the King his Father had given him in charge, began the sacrifices anew, and after he had satisfied the Obligations of his estate, he would likewise perfect his owne particular. He presented many rich offrings to the invisible Sunne; and for an eternall of his voyage, caus'd great ta­bles of Gold to be cast, whereon his principall adventures were represented. We had been now almost five months in that Iland, when the Vessells of Cleonidas ar­riv'd there. Never was there seen so sad and dolefull a preparation. All his Vessels were painted blacke, the sayles were blacke, and all those within them witnessed by their mourning, the extraordinary desolation that was in their Country. But this Funerall, solemnity, and s [...]ate had scarce time to shew it selfe, for Alcidus presenting himselfe to the first that came on shoare, and being known of them, tur [...]'d their sad­nesse into joy▪ their habits of sorrow into robes of triumph, and their lamentations into songs o [...] mirth and jollity, The Sacrifices were perform'd with an incompa­rable Zeale, and the Altars besides the ordinary presents and offrings were loaden with other gifts and ob [...]ations for Alcidus returne. We betook our selves presently after to [...] Sayles, and the sacred birds, the second day being let out of their Ca­ges, guided us so well, that on the fourth we entred into a River, on whose bancks is built the Capitall City of this Kingdome.

[Page 237] I should be to tedious to relate the contentment Alcidus return gave to the whole I­land, and the ravishing joy the King his Father received. The Feast for it lasted many monethes, and to make it more accomplish'd, Cleonidas married the Prince, to a Prin­cesse of his blood, called Diana, (with more Iustice then she among the Greeks.) The se­cond year after this happy marriage, but of small continuance, Alcidus mounted the Throne by the death of his Father, and the next yeare he had by his Queen a Daugh­ter, who without flattery, ought to be placed among things celestiall. Tis not to say what She is, to say that she is faire, that she is witty, that she is virtuous. I shall not have saied enough of her; when I have told you that she is beauty it selfe, that she is the highest of the created Intelligences, and in short, should be taken for that extraordi­nary virtue to which the ancient Philosophers gave the Sirname Heroicall.

This Princesse to have nothing equalize her on Earth, lost the Queene her Mother assoone as she was borne, To preserve the memory of his marriage, Alcidus, out of his owne Name and his Wives, composed that of the Young Princesse, and called her Alci­diana, At that Name Polexander sigh'd, but fearing least the old Shepheard might disco­ver the cause, he stifled within him more then the halfe of his Sigh. The Old Man taking no [...]eed to it, thus went on with his discourse. Some few dayes after this Princesse birth, the Riner Arzilea overflowed his banckes, and rising hie, even to some old buil­dings which were called the Tombes of the Prophets, cast downe a peece of a wall which inclosed the Vaults where the bodyes of the Prophets had been buried. When the River was retir'd into his Channell, some body mark'd that▪ ruine, and his curiosity lea­ding him into those Caves, He saw a great Tombe covered with plates of Gold. Present­ly he published this wonder through the City, and the King being advertiz'd of it, sent thither a guard, A little after, (thrust on no doubt by some divine inspiration) he went himselfe to those Sepulchers, made the plates of them to be cleans'd, and thereon found very ancient characters, by which he understood, 'twas neere three hundred yeares since the death of those Prophets. He had patience to read all that was there written, and hapned (on a plate separated from the rest) to meet with certaine predictions which gave him matter enough to meditate and ponder on. There was one, whereon it was manifestly spoken of his raigne, and of his House. I cannot relate to you the proper termes, but I will tell you the Substance. The Prophesiy spoke of Alcidus Voyage, of the short continuance of those two marriages, of a Sonne which he was to have by the first, which should be one day one of the most valiant Princes of the World, and King of a very great Kingdome, if he could be taken alive out of the Wombe of his dead Mother. It added further how of a second marriage, Alcidus should have a Daughter, of so much perfection and rarity, thar she should be esteem'd the miracle of her age, and be passionately desired by many Strange Princes. But that it behoved them to have a wonderfull care for the gard of that Princesse, because she was threatned by many Acci­dents: and among others to be stolne away and forc'd in her owne Pallace, and to be one day the Wife of a Slave, sprung from the most barbarous of all the Nations of Af­frica, To this prophesie there was joyn'd another, in which the Prophet seem'd to see that African Slave arrive in [...] Kingdome. He solicites him for his undertaking the de­fence thereof against the enterprizes of many Strangers that would have lain it deso­late, and promiseth the Queen (in the name of the Deity) that if she could resolve to take that to her Husband, the felicities of her Raigne should be farre more great then those of the precedent Governments. Hitherto we have seen nothing of all that which the Prophesie presageth us, except the death of our two Queenes, that of the King (who was taken from us at his age of five and forty, and (if the speech be true) the designe which a Prince of this country called Siziphus had on Alcidiana. But the late King who naturally was devout euen to superstition, gave such credit to these prophesies, that he caused the Princesse his daughter to be nursed in a Palace whereto no person could ap­proach; and when she was past the brest, he chose many young Gentlemen of his Court to be o [...] her guard. Of them he compos'd an order of Knighthood, obliged them by an irrevocable oath to dy for the defence of his daughter, and appointed them to weare great chayns of gold, to the end rhey might shew themselves to be the Slaves of Alcidiana

[Page 238] This Company hath almost still subsisted, and during the life of the King my Master some French and other Strangers, driven by tempests on our coastes, by their brave acti­ons obtaind to be put in the number of Alcidianas Slaves. Some time, and not long af­ter the death of Alcidus, the Princesse sequestred her selfe wholly from the conversation of men; and besides her publique Court which is composed of the Grandys of her King­dome, and the Officers of the Crowne, She constituted a particular one, whereinto on­ly Maides and Women are admitted. The Queen is never seen of men but when she is obliged to do some publique action, be it as a Princesse or a Prelatesse. Sometimes to re­create her, She betakes her to the country, and there enjoyes the pleasure of Hunting. The rest of her time She remaines shut up in her palace amongst her Women. Thus the Old Shepheard instructed Polexander in all the State secrets he knew, and so fully satis­fied all his curiositie [...], that he gave him not place to aske him any one Question. Seeing himselfe then so well informed, he tooke hold of, and went over againe with the Shepheards discourse, and to content his passion, he began to exaggerate the Majesty of Alcidiana, and the happinesse of her subjects, and ended his speech with new thankes and new Offers to the Old man, and to oblige him to stay yet, drew from his little finger a very great Diamond, and with a good grace presented it to him. The good Old man very civily refused it, and told him, that when he tooke on the Habit of a Shepheard, hee had put off not only the Hope, but the desire of riches, That he wanted nothing, because he could content himselfe with a little, and that if he found any one that would disbur­then him of a part of the meanes his Ancestors had left him, he should walke on to his Gr [...]ve with a merrier heart then he did. Polexander, admiring so solid a virtue, would not atake the paines againe, or try new waies to incline it. Contrarily, he thought it a­misse done in putting it to that tryall, and imployed all the best words he had, to crown it as worthily as it deserved.

The old Shepherd was a little tempted by the Eares, as had he been by his Eyes. The Prince his praises put him into a confusion, and made him resolve to put somewhat in action that might oblige the Prince not to continue them. He therefore arose and making avery low reverence to the Prince, humbly besought him he might know whither he could be any further usefull to him, you will bee extreamely so alwaies replied the Prince, but for the present I intreat you one favour, and 'tis, if your affaires can permit it, you will do me the Honor to let me enjoy your company▪ till you have given me some knowledg in this Countries Languages The Shepheard (who had the generousnesse of a King) an­swered that his businesse should never be taken into his consideration, when his good Fortune would present him, the occasion of doing him Service. That he should abso­lutely dispose of him, and ever finde a readinesse to give proofe of his obedience. After Polexander had received those civilities according to his wonted courtesies, he gave a period to their first conversation, and lead the Shepheard to walke. The old man made shew of enjoying the strength of one of farre younger yeares; for though he was come that very day from a village neere twelve miles distant from that where Polex­ander lay, yet stuck he not to walke till it was farre in the night, and made the Prince confesse his legs were the worst of the two. VVhen they were returned to their lod­ging, they tal [...]ed of the quaintnesse and bravery of many remarkeable Nations of Eu­rope, and concur'd in opinion, that even the French or neater English, had no advantage o're the Subjects of Alcidiana. From thence they passed to the richnesse of the tongues, and the Old Shepheard made it appeare to Polexander by [...] great number of Examples, that his Language had all the graces and copiousnesse of the Greek. It is very likely ( [...]aid he) that we have got thence a part of our words. For the most of our Names of men, of Townes, of floods, of Beasts, of Plants, are all Greek. Another part is Arabick, and the rest which we may properly call our own, is of so sweet and facile a pronuntiation, that it seems Heaven desirous to treat us more favorably then the rest of men, hath caus'd as care &▪ love to appear even in the Composition of our Language. Polexander, said he would learne without further defer [...]ing; and Alcippus noted the first word, he asked the old Shepherd, was that of Love. For a whole moneth he gave all his time to that stu­dy, and i [...] his growing passion had not diverted his imagination, and rob'd the best [Page 239] houres he imployed in that exercise, he had drawne dry all the old Shepheards know­ledge. His disquiets pluck'd him at last from this idle life, and the desire to see Alci­diana, againe exercising and stirring him day and night, he was constrained to leave the Hamlet, where he had been so long, and to goe passe some dayes in that of the old Shepheard, where he met with all that imagination could conceive might conduce to make up a pleasant life. But he, who had confined all his felicitie in the sight of Alcidi­ana, converted into bitternesse, the sweets of his aboade, and nourish'd his melancholy, even with such things as should make an end of it. But Love, who had given the wound, would bring a remedy: for twelve, or fifteen dayes after Polexanders arrivall to the C [...]te of the old Shepheard, Alcidiana came to a Pallace, which her Predecessors had built at the Entry of a Forrest, which was full of Stagges, and wild Boares. As soone as Polexander heard of her comming, he gave thanks to the Author of his passion, and not to lose the happinesse which he presented him, resolv'd not to put off the enjoying it till another season.

He therefore caus'd a Shepheards habit to be made for him, that under such a digguise he might come neer Alcidiana's Pallace, and see her as often as she went to, or came from hunting. He departed with Alcippus, disguis'd as himselfe and driving a flock be­fore them, got to a Land of many Leagues, by which they went to the Pallace. The ve­ry same day, he saw the Princesse, and that second sight, gave the fatall blow, whereof he will never be cured. The Princesse in passing looked on him, and marking through his habit, the Majesty which he had as it were hidden there, made the Ladies, which accom­panied her to take notice of it. He the while, that would possesse as much as he could a happines so pationately desir'd, left his flock to the keeping of Alcippus, and shuffling himselfe among a company of servants, that look'd to the Hounds, made so good of that little knowledge he had of their tongue, that they not only receiv'd him into their company, as they were wont to doe other Shepheards that came, but also lent him what ever he wanted fit [...]or a Hunter. When the whole Troop was in the Forrest, the Hunts-men did their charge, and first sever [...]d the Hounds.

Polexander was sent with six to a stand for a relay far within the Wood. The desire he had to be alone, hindred him from saying he knew not the place whither they sent him. He therefore went on at all adventures, and when he thought himselfe well plac'd, got him into a bush with his dogges, and lay down at the foot of a green Oake. T [...]s not hard for you to imagine the brave meditations he had in this attending and expectation. Sometime he made a comparison betwixt himselfe and the wounded Deare. Sometimes he accused the Stagge of more than a brutish stupidity, to flye the glory of being pier­ced by one of Alcidiana's shafts, and oftentimes wished him in his place. With how much joy (said he) would I receive the death thou flyest from, and how happy would I esteeme my Fate, if, being wounded as I am by Alcidiana's darts, I durst promise my selfe to dye, as thou must, at the feet of that Princesse. Surely if in that desireable mo­ment I were seen to shed any teares, they should be teares of joy, and my sobs should be so many thanksgivings to that faire hand, which should take me from among the living. After some two houres almost of his thus intertaining himselfe, he heard a noise, and turning his head the way whence it came, saw a great Stag in a rutt way, that went quite crosse the Forrest from one end to the other. There were neither Huntse-men, nor Hounds that followed the beast, and yet he saw well he had been very sore [...]ayd to. For every foot he bow'd down his head, held his nose to the Earth, and instead of running, made many great slydings. When the Stagge was some ten or twelve pa [...]es from the bush, wherein Polexander lay, he heard the Prince stirre, whereat streight he lifted up his head, and shut his angles to make it beleev'd he went with confidence, and was yet vi­gorous enough. In that instant Alcidiana (mounted on a Horse as white as snow) came out of a thicke [...] on the other side o [...] Polexanders b [...]sh. The Horse fierce and proud, [...]ut fearefull, surpriz'd with the meeting of the Stag, cast himselfe hast [...]ly into our Lovers covert, and the Deare in the same instant giving two bounds, [...] Alcidiana had not [...] ex­tre [...]mely nimble to cast her selfe a ground, she had run the hazard of her li [...]e. Her horse payd for't, for with two thrusts of his brow-ancklers, he was layd flat on the sand. At [Page 240] the shreeck Alcidiana gave (seeing her selfe at the mercy of the incensed beast) Polex­ander (without thought of uncoupling his Hounds) cast himselfe, his sword in his hand between the Princesse and the Stag, who not to be reveng'd at halfes) came running with full bent, head at her. He setledly expected him, and by a happy rashnes, stopt him with one blow of his Sword. The beast wounded to death fell stumblingly on the dust; and Al­cidiana who thought her selfe dead fell some twenty paces from Polexander. The Prince a thousand times more fortunate then he hoped to have been, ran to the succour of this new Diana, and comming neer, with a great deale of respect, besought her to tell him what service he might doe her. You have given me the most important (she replyd) that you can ever render me. But who are you (said she) for it seemes you are not of my followers? Polexander twice or thrice, had a desire to tell her, she knew not all that were hers. But his discretion not suffring him to take that boldnesse, he answered, that he was a stranger, and not long since by a happy ship-wrack throwne a shoare on her Island. At those words, Alcidiana considering him better then she had done: I think (said she much surpriz'd) I have already seen you, but under another habit, then that you were now. Polexander was much troubled at it, because he durst not avow that truth, and yet fear'd to wrong himselfe, if he did not confesse it. But many of Alcidiana's Ladyes, and some Huntsemen, (at that instant) comming in, redeem'd him from that trou­ble. Hereupon the Queen arose, and all the rest alighting: thank this Shepheard (said she to her Ladies) but for his courage, you had found Alcidiana as ill handled as her Paifray. With that, the Nymphes environ'd Polexander, and after they had given him thankes proportionable to the merit of his action, began to praise him; this his good a­spect, another his advantageous stature, this, his beauty, that his youth; and all were of opinion, he had nothing of the Shepheard but the Clothes, and apparent simplicity.

The Vice Roy had no intent to breake off his discourse here, and Zelmatida ravished with this beginning expected the sequell with a great deale of impatiency. But suddenly there fell such a violent raine, that to obtaine a satisfaction; He was obliged to returne to the Pallace with the Vice Roy.

The Stranger Polexander, to Syziphus thrice a Rebell.

AMbition is alwaies guilty, but not ever modest. All Lawes condemne Tyrants; yet there have beene many of them seene who by their dangerous magnanimity have exempted themselves from that condemnation. This Syziphus tells thee, that when any hath violated the Law, and troden Justice under foote, it behooves him by a famous death, or some great event to deliver himselfe both from the power of Law and justice: In the meane time, poore ambitious man, in lieu of following those proude tyrannicall Maximes, thou hast imitated the proceedings of common Theeves. Thou hast lost thy courage with thy hopes; thou hast shamefully begged pardon for a crime thou wert not able to perpetrate, and thy infamy is come to that height, thou hast been seene to implore with teares, her pity whose justice thou hadst (newly) most brutish­ly provoked. After this unmanlinesse, I doe not believe there is left thee any sence of honour. Yet I will adventure this challenge, to see whether I am deceived, and if thou hast not lost all thy courage with thy integrity, thou wilt come with thy armes to justi­fie thy selfe of those crimes this State accuseth thee by my Pen.

Syziphus received the challenge with a fury unworthy a man of courage, and yet to testifie he had enough, he accepted it, and told the Herauld that the next morning he would be in the Meadow betweene the two Armies, to make knowne by the death of one of his enemies, what he had prepared for the rest. The ensuing morne at breake of the day, there was proclaimed a truce on both sides for six houres only, and yet both sides for feare of being surprised stood on their gards.

At the houre of combate, the two Rivalls came out of their quarters, and presented themselves in the field with such armes as Cavaliers were wont to make use of in the [Page] like duels. Polexander after his invocation of Alcidiana and love, came amaine on Sy­ziphus, and incountered him with such a force, that it seemed the power of those Divi­nities he had called on, had with their power effectively assisted him. Syziphus retur­ning from his amazement, tooke him to his sword, and came up to Polexander with all the resolution of a man of courage. The victory was a while doubtfull, but at last it in­clined to the just side. Syziphus covered with wounds growne desperate at [...]is ill for­tune, and tortured by the remorse of conscience, let himselfe fall at the feete of his Conquerour, to oblige him to give him his life; and confessed (with weakenesse e­nough) the crimes whereof he had long since beene convicted. Polexander bounded his revenge within the confession of that timerous ambitious man; but he strove in vaine to preserve his life, for he dyed on the place, and by a ficklenesse too ordinary in Armies, that of Syziphus no sooner saw him dye, but renouncing any other party then Alcidiana's, sent Deputies to treate with the Generall. The accord was not hard to be made, since they demanded nothing, but that all might be forgotten which was past, and every man might returne to his owne home, without feare of being inquired after. As soone as the Treaty was signed, the intrenchments which seperated the two Armies were slighted, and before 'twas night, it had beene a hard matter to meet with any of those that were of Syziphus party.

This important newes was sent to Alcidiana, and with so much diligence, that the next morning as she went to the Temple, the Post presented the Generalls letter to her; she looked earnestly on the Messenger before she opened them, and reading in his countenance the good newes he brought. What, Syziphus is beaten, said she to the Gentleman? Yes Madam (he replied) but an extraordinary way. The Queene her self broke open the packet, and according to her manner, would reade the letters without referring her selfe to the fidelity of her Secretaries of State. She heard of the Kings challenge, the combate he had with Syziphus, and in briefe, all that I have related. Af­ter she had ended her delightsome reading: All powerfull and all good Diety (cried she) into whose hands I have committed the fortune both of my State and my selfe, well may I call the day wherein the stranger Polexander landed in this Kingdome, the day of thy love and blessing! What act of thankes, Invisible Sun, what offrings can acquit me from that miracle which thy goodnesse hath pleased to shew f [...]r the safety of my people, and mine owne particular preservation? This ejaculation of her heart ended, she turned to those which followed her, and without discovering any excessive joy, come (said she) let us goe and give thankes to heaven for the victory wee have obtai­ned. It is the more admirable, since it hath cost no mans life, but that of the publique enemy. At those words there was a kinde of a humming noise, declaring the joy every one b [...]d of so happy an event, and the desire to know the particularities, which were published, as soone as Alcidiana had done her devotion, and were intertained with so generall a contentment, that all shops were shut up, and all the Temples open as on some solemne festivall day.

Polexander, who had not beene knowne but by some persons of quallity for his first service done to the Queene, by this second made himselfe to be taken notice of the meanest of the people. His name was in the mouth of every one. They called him the tutelare Angell of their Queene and State, and some even proclaimed that he was the powerfull Protector, which the prophesies promised the Kingdome under the name of a slave. Whilst these rumours ran among the people, Alcidiana, (retired with Amintha) was assaulted by many different thoughts. You judged well (said she to her Confident) when you t [...]ought this stranger was more then he seemed. For mine owne part, when I call to minde the Majesty which shines in his face, the discretion and courtesie that have made him so well esteemed by us, and those two actions he hath undertaken by an absolute effect of his generosity; I certainely believe him to be some great Prince, who to gaine renowne to his valour, and fill the world with the report of his wonders, thus travells through strange Countries. What thinke you of it Amintha? Your Majesty knowes well enough (replied the Lady) that it was my first opinion. That which he hath done against Syziphus addes nothing to the conceipt I had of him. I believed him at first sight as couragious as he is, and if your Majesty permit me to extend my selfe a [Page] little beyond what is fitting, I will take the boldnesse to tell you, that heaven in retri­bution of your good deedes, hath sent you this man, who possibly is the sole man on earth that is worthy to serve you. See, (said Alcidiana blushing) one of the pleasants fantasies that Amintha shall have in her life time. You are a foole, believe me, and thanke Syziphus for my pardoning your idle digression. I know how far you were his enemy, and by consequence should understand that the newes of his death is able to make you lose a part of your discretion. But let's talke of somewhat else. In your judgement, how should I behave my selfe towards our Liberator, and what fortune can I offer him, which may acquit my debt? One word from your Majesty (answered Amintha) may with usury pay all that the stranger hath done for you and your State. You are (may be) more in the right then you are aware of, replied the Queene; for I see not how any can pay otherwise then by words and actions of thankes, a man who makes a profusion of riches, and contemnes what others adore. After many the like words used by Alcidiana, she went to dispatch the Post which came from the Army, and by her answere to the Lievtenant Generall, not only commanded him to treate Po­lexander as her owne person, but also to bring him to her as soone as businesse would permit it.

The Courtier returned with as much speede as he came, and by his returne obliged Polexander to prepare himselfe for the receiving the reward of his victory from Alci­diana's owne hands. The Lievtenant Generall after the performance of all his charge, thought wholely of giving the King my Master all the honour prescribed him by the Queenes letters. They marched off with part of the Army, and I may truely tell you, that at that journey was a continuall triumphe. The Countrey people came to meet us, that they might have the content of seeing their Redeemer. The Inhabitants of Townes far distant from their high-way, came thither with presents, and he thought himselfe unfortunate, that had not the happynesse to be looked on by Polexander. In divers places wee meet with erected Altars, and sacrifices prepared to doe our Prince the more honour, and some more free, and daring then the rest, said aloud, that to pre­vent the disastrous allyance where withall Alcidiana was threatned by the prophesies, she ought to resolve to marry with Polexander. After eight or ten dayes in this manner, wee came to Arzilea. Never did the King my Master shew himselfe as he did that day. His presence, his beauty, accompanied with the richnesse of his habit, made him admi­red of all, and (as wee knew a long while after) Alcidiana could not refraine from say­ing to Amintha, that the stranger would never have what he deserved, if he had not one day on his head one of the fairest Crownes in the world. In that (replide Amin­tha) you may either perfect what fortune hath begun, or doe Polexander that justice which she enviously denies him.

At those words, Alcidiana could not refraine from blushing, and intimating she tooke no pleasure in Amintha's freedome, she forbad her to talke to her any more of Polex­ander but when she gave her leave. This rigourous Law being thus established, Alcidi­ana went out of the chamber where she had seene Polexander passe, and retired to be fitly dressed to receive him. At the houre appointed by her for that Ceremony▪, her great Chamberlaine, and the Captaine of her slaves, attended by all that were under their command, came to the place where our King alighted, and the complements be­ing passed, told him they came from the Queene to accompany him to his audience. This was done with a great deale of order and ceremony. But when Polexander was come to the foote of Alcidiana's Throne, and that he saw her fairer, and of more luster then all the jewells that even covered her, all his boldnesse, courage, and reason for­sooke him. He blushed, he grew pale, and as if his victory had been a matter of re­proach and shame, he was seased on by a confusion, and moved with such a trembling as all the Court marked it; so did the Queene as well as others; but faining not to take notice of it, she witnessed by a well studied speech, the obligation all her people had to Polexanders courage, and at last addressing her to himselfe, told him that know­ing not how to reward an action that was beyond all ballancing, she intreated him to give her the meanes not to live ingratefull. Amintha, that by chance was hard by Po­lexander, without doubt was afraid lest his disturbance should last; and therefore spea­king, [Page] for most commonly 'twas by her that Alcidiana made knowne her pleasure, she thanked the King my Master for the death of Syziphus, and suppressing the insurrecti­on, and so far extended her selfe in his praise, that she threw him againe into his former confusion. Yet he spake, and though he said very little, and that fearefully, he came (notwithstanding) off that action to the good liking of those who wished to see him pestered.

That publick audience was seconded by a private one, wherein Polexander had re­ceived an incomparable content, had he beene powerfull enough to have mastered his passion. But such a temper was not to be expected from a minde that suffred under the extreamest intemperancy. The cause of it increased by the addition of Alcidiana's fa­vours; and 'tis no wonder if the effects redouble. Neverthelesse they hindred not this passionate Lover from holding his part well in his conversation with Alcidiana and A­mintha. He made the third, and so readily disintricated himselfe from that Laborinth, where all things combinde to lose him, that Alcidiana had no cause to lessen the good opinion she had conceived of him. The next day she sent him by the same slave who brought him the Diamond boxe, the expeditions of the Principality which Syziphus formerly possessed. But he refused them with such excuses and modesty as might have satisfied the Queene: But yet she was not, and absolutely would have Polexander re­ceive her present, that she might not alwaies remaine obliged to him. Amintha was imployde to get him to accept it, and she made so good use of her eloquence, that the King my Master consented, and tooke the gratification. But he never made use of it, for as long as [...]e was in the Island he never would be knowne by any other title or name then that of the stranger Polexander. A pritty while had he beene in this height of hap­pinesse, I meane in discou [...]sing with Alcidiana at his pleasure; when a new adventure drew him from the midst of all his contents to expose his life to new dangers. Syziphus had a brother called [...]antalus, as vaine and ambitious as himselfe; but one w [...]o by Court hypocrisie counterfeited the hum [...]le and disinterrested, but attended rili Syziphus had tried the hazard, and orecome the difficulties, to the end, that arriving after the bat­tle wonne, he might be at no more paine then in gathering the best part of the spoiles. But when he saw his brother dead, he changed his resolution, and desperately casting away his vizard of dissimulution, concluded he would be talked of. To this end he thought no better pretext was to be chosen, then the avenging his brothers death. Ve­ry privately he sent a Gentleman of his to Polexander, and giving him to understand to what sensibility the death of his brother obliged him, laid before him his own generous­nesse, that should not refuse any content to those whom had offended. Polexander no sooner received the challenge, but he prepared to give it a satisfaction. He [...] Al­cippus, and giving him order for what was necessary for the com [...]at, went forth secret­ly with the Gentle man,

Alcippus came to them at the place Polexander appointed, and without distrusting one another came all three where Tantalus expected them. At first sight he made shew of a great courage and much hope, and spoake so loftily, and altogether with so much falcity of his brothers death, that Polexander forgetting his usuall patience, told him in heate, that he wondred how he had so long time lingered, and not sooner beene sensi­ble of this pretended murther, and with that drew his sword, and ingaged Tantalus to give over his revilings. As soone as Alcippus, saw them ready, he told the Gentleman who brought the challenge, that 'twas not honorable for them to be idle, whilst their Masters were so busied. The words stirred the generousnesse of the Gentleman, which by a dangerous consequence cost him his life. Polexander and Tantalus were the while hard at it, and because they fought on horseback, they had not so soone done as their seconds. Yet had Tantalus received three woundes, and Polexander thinking himselfe too much satisfied, intreated him to thinke on his safety, and to believe there was no [...]oule play in the death of his brother. But Tantalus had done too much to stop till he had ended. He passed furiously on Polexander, and in passing gave him a wound which he thought would have ended the combat. Indeede the wound was great, for it went quite through the Kings arme, but 'twas neither mortall nor dangerous. The generous Prince finding himselfe wounded, renewed his strength and courage, and sheathing [Page] his sword in Tantalus side, let out from his heart at once both his pride and life. The unfortunate man was not falne from his horse, when Alcidiana's Lievtenant Generall, her great Chamberlaine, and many other Lords came to their place of combat. They blamed Tantalus unjust resentment, and bewailed his misfortune. But those two things not much troubled them, they rejoyced with Polexander for his last victory. As he gave them thankes for their affection, they saw his arme all bloody, and thinking him sore hurt, made shew of all the forwardnesse, and double diligence that Courtiers use when there is any service to be done to a man in the Princes favour. Polexander assured them 'twas nothing, and though he would gladly have returned to the City without so much company, yet for feare of offending any, he was forced to undergoe that punishment. Before he came to a great causeway which crosseth the Lake in which Arzilea is built, there were assembled so many people to see him passe, that he could scarce get into the Towne. Every one called him the invincible, the Exterminator of Rebells; and mothers with their fingers shewing him to their children, told them, that for all their happinesse they were obliged to that Prince his valour. At last he got to his lodging, and all a voyding, to leave him at liberty: Diceus unclad him, looked on his wound, and having stopped the blood, applied the first dressing. With much a doe he got him to his bed; but as soone as he was laid, pondering on his action, and fearing lest Alcidiana might thinke he sought occasions to be talked of, would needes excuse it to her by a letter.

Presently he writ, and giving it to Alcippus, commanded him to deliver it to Amin­tha, and be seech her in his name to do those good offices for him to the Queene, which he expexted from her noblenesse. Alcippus performed his Commission, and earnestly pressing the Lady to tell him what his Master might hope: All (replied she) provided he mistrust his good fortune. Alcippus was wary enough of relating her speech to his Master, for feare his explaining it to his owne disadvantage, might give him more dan­gerous woundes then that which made him keepe his chamber. In the meane time A­mintha did her best endeavour for the Princes contentment. The very next day she gave him a proofe of it, which raised him to the height of happinesse and glory, if the follies of Lovers deserve to unfold them, the use of tearmes so noble and serious. For that La­dy came to him from Alcidiana. In the name of the Princesse, she made proffers to him a thousand times more considerable then the Principality she had given, and intreating him to hasten his cure, that he might himselfe be Judge of the recompence his virtue deserved, delivered into his hands Alcidiana's answere to his letter. You may imagine whether so speciall a remedy did not extraordinarily operate on our Patient. Had every word been as powerfull as the Magicians most mysterious spells, and all the Characters equalized the virtue of those which force dead bodies from their graves, and call soules out of hell, they could not have wrought greater prodigies, nor produced more won­derfull alterations, by the hidden virtue of five or six lines, Polexander had lost all me­mory of himselfe. He not only thought he was invulnerable, but immortall, and in that extasie, promised no lesse to absent Alcidiana, then the laying of all the Crownes of the earth at her feete.

Amintha; leaving him in this amourous heate, went questionlesse to tell the Queene, what miracles she had done by her answere. The Princesse continued them by her con­tinuall sending to visit her Defender; and Diceus noted it in the supernaturall healing his Masters wounde. One day he told him, that indeede his hand dressed the wounde, but certainely (said he) 'tis cured by the secret virtue of Alcidiana's. Polexander was pleased with Diceus fancy, and confessed to his Chyrurgion that the honour he recei­ved from the Queene did sensibly forward his health. As soone as he left his chamber, he went to the Pallace, and being permitted the entrance to Alcidiana's Sanctuary (if I may speake as foolishly as amorous people use to doe) ne found her in that fashion, which (by his only relation to me) I thought capable to touch even insensibility. She had layd by her habit and dresse of Ceremony, and in putting it off, disrobed her selfe of that stately and awefull Majesty which made all to cast downe their lookes that gazed on her. Love, sweetnesse, delicacy, and the graces had taken her place, and seemed to be expresly met together to sport themselves about the Princesse. Her habit lesse jealous [Page] of her beauties then that was wont, laid open to Polexander those treasures which till then he could not see, but by the helpe of imagination. Her neck was bare, and if for forme it passed all the study and examination of the most famous Statuaries, for white­nesse it obscured the very pearles, and cast raies of light, and such shining flashes, that Polexander confessed he stood dazeled with it. He cast downe his sight to recover it, but love maliciously stopped it, now on an arme, and then on her hand, which by their beauties and allurements seemed to dispute with the other parts of that wonder the po­wer of blinding all beholders. At last confessing himselfe absolutely overcome, and lay­ing his armes at the Princesse feete, she gave him his life, and to make it appeare that she tooke care of his preservation, asked him whether he were cured of his wounde. The King answered, that though it had beene mortall, the experiments of her excessive goodnesse had beene of power to have healed him. I should be very ingratefull (said she) if my service drawing you so often to the hazarding your life, I should not be care­full for its preservation. Yes, I am, and would have the world know, that I have a par­ticular vigilancy over it, and that my obligations to you are so great, that I thinke not my selfe of ability enough to acquit my selfe worthily of them. The more I consider what you have done for my people, and my selfe; the more am I in doubt whether my debt be greater to you as Queene, or as Alcidiana. Madam, you, both as Queene, and as Alcidiana so confound and disorder me (replied Polexander) that I can hardly re­serve a little judgement to cleere [...]e from those cloudes and mists which are raised and got together by vanity, to make me almost unacquainted with my selfe. But your Maje­stie (Madam) participating with the nature of that All-sufficiency, whereof you are the lively Image, with a bountifull hand spread you favours indifferently on all, and pou­ring them with prodigality on the worthy and unworthy, you hold it a thing far below your Magnificence to weigh the merit in the distribution of your bounties. If you have a minde (said the Princesse) to conquer Alcidiana, as you have others, she instantly gives you all her honours.

B [...] if you desire she should enjoy that liberty you have preserved her, suffer her with­all to make use of her understanding, and that in speaking of things as she apprehend them she yet once more may confesse, that she is infinitely engaged to you. Polexander fearing he might run into some incivility, if he too much continued his Cour [...]ship, made her no answere, but with a low reverence, shewed, that respect had imposed on him an eternall silence. I should be too long, did I relate to you all their converse after this, and the Justs, Balls, Maskes, and other braveries, wherein Polexander made that passion breake forth which hedurst not discover, no not to his trusted Amintha. I will on­ [...]y tell you, that at one meeting where the Queene was, he had opportunity to have her picture taken without her knowledge, by an Italian painter, which he had brought from Lyons. I believe you have seene that fatall portraict which cost the valiant Almanzor his life, and many other Knights. The King my Master possessing that piece, and know­ing nothing else to desire but the possession of Alcidiana her selfe; so far forgot him in his good fortune, that he was often tempted to present him to the Queene, and to make knowne his aff [...]ction to her. Amintha kept him from that fault, and assured him, that as soone as the Princesse should know his designe, she would command him out of her Kingdome.

To alter his determination, she proposed to him the petitioning her permission to be one of her slaves. He had long time before a desire to it, and was even ravished that he could please her: Y [...]r Amintha thinking it unfit for her to make the proposition, Po­lexander went to the chiefe Priest called Radiotez, who was particularly favoured of the Queene, and so absolutely won him, that he became engaged to serve him in that [...]. He did it, but without successe; for Alcidiana would never consent to that [...] of the King my Master. When he heard of the deniall, he fell into so deepe a [...], [...] wee all feared he would at last indanger the losse of reason. He put on [...], and in this sadnesse continued, till Amintha expresly commanded him to [...] i [...], to take him to his former fashion of life, not to hazard what was passed, and to handle very gently a thing which could never be knit againe, if it came once to [...]e bro­ken. Polexander was advised by her, and getting by little and little from that extremity▪ [Page] whereinto his impatiency, and the excesse of his good fortune had plunged him, he be­gan to appeare againe in company, and to the Court. The Queene at that time had made a progresse to the most distant Provice of her Kingdome, and at her returne came to one of her houses, built in a Forrest, which they call the Forrest of white Hyndes. Whilst she abode there, Polexander had once more the happinesse to save her life; for the Princesse being gone a hunting, and Amintha desirous to drive her Chariot, the hor­ses either affrighted, or ill guided, tooke their bits in their teeths, hurryed the Chariot cleane crosse the fields, and if Polexander had not happily arrived, and turned them by his voice and clamour, they were even running headlong downe a precipice, where all must needes have beene torne in pieces. The Chariot was overturned very neere the downefall, and what with the bruise and the feare, Alcidiana and Amintha lay as dead in the field. The King ran presently to them, and being not able to succour but one at once, tooke Alcidiana, and carried her all in a swounde to her Pallace. For Amintha she quickly came to her selfe, and returned without neede of any assistance. When the Queenes Physitians had by their gentle remedies, recalled those spirits which her fall and feare had dispersed, she seemed not to remember any more the accident that was betided her, and desirous to know all the particulars of that, ingaged Amintha to re­late them.

Since (said she) I had my part in the mischance and affright, I can only tell your Majesty, your horses were stronger then I, and not being used to my voice and guidance, they would obey neither; but fling away with me in spight of my resistance, and with­out Polexanders helpe they were hurrying your Majesty downe the precipice of the Cedars.

O stranger! (cried the Queene) fatall for my preservation, will fortune never leave furnishing thee with occasions to oblige me? She commanded they would leave her to her rest, and retaining none but Amintha with her, she kept her bed two or three dayes, and would see none but her women. When she thought her selfe as perfectly well as before her fall, she sent for Polexander, and with a becomming grace accusing him of all the accidents had betided her; I cannot doubt any longer (said she) after so many strange events, but that you hold intelligence with fortune, and that from time to time you command her to throw me into new dangers, to the end you may have the con­tentment of freeing me. Polexander answered very respectively to so pleasant and nice a speech, and after was with the Princesse as he had lived before his retreate and melan­choly.

Alcidiana being returned to Arzilea, our Prince was strucken with such a dulnesse of spirit, or bewitched by the philters and magicall practises of an old woman called Ste­nelica, that he forgot his affection to Alcidiana, and seemed to desire no other happines then the enjoying that Sorceresse. He gloried in that prodigious change, he spoke of nothing but Stenelica, he talked dayly and hourely of that old womans virtues, writ to her twice or thrice a day, satiated her with presents, and sometimes making use of Al­cippus, and then of me to continue that commerce, imposed on us a rigourous silence, whensoever wee offred to speake to him according to our wonted liberty. This extra­vagancy (or if you will have it so) this false and mysticall shew beguiled us five or six moneths, and wee thought wee had Stenelica sure, and reduced her to satisfie Polexan­der, she broake with him, sent backe his jewells, and some of his letters, forbad him her house, and threatned to avenge her selfe of his mockery. At that time Alcidiana went from Arzilea, to a stately Castle built on a point of Land, opposite to the fortunate Is­lands. At the foote of it is an unwalled Towne, and because there inhabit a great ma­ny fishers, and other seafaring men, I had caused our ship to be brought about thither, to trim and fit her well againe for a voyage. When wee came thither, I went downe to the haven to see what was done to her, and found her very well rigged and repaired. Our Marriners that had kept still with her, were overjoyed to see me, and though they wanted nothing whatsoever; yet they made a shew to me of a great desire they had that Polexander would bring them back againe to their Islands. To put them in some hope, I said, the King would surely part ere long, and charged them to keepe their ship in readinesse.

[Page] Certainely wee must believe wee have domesticall spirits which continually watch about us, who drawing from the very fountaine that truth which is hidden from us, make it glide into us by some unperceivable channell. For if it were not so, how came it into my minde to give our Marriners such unlikely assurances, and against my owne beliefe, talke to them of Polexander's going away as of a thing resolved on? In the meane time there hapned a strange adventure, for two dayes after Amintha was stolen away by a Portugall Pirate, driven by a furious tempest on the inaccessible Island, and so cunningly taken away, that her rape was not heard on till she was far at sea. Polex­ander no sooner heard of the accident, but he ran to the sea, and finding an armed barke at the Castles foote, got into it with Alcippus. His affection and generousnesse were very fatall to him; for they tooke from him the thought of the place he went from, and hindred him from considering that in losing sight of the inaccessible Island, he instantly lost the meanes of returning thither againe.

Diceus and I, thought the Prince might have neede of his men and ships, and there­fore wee got aboard her, and commanded to set saile. The winde was extreame favou­rable to us, and quickly brought us up to Polexanders barke. Alcippus knowing us as farre as he could kenne, and causing us to come neere, advised his Master to leave the barke, which he did, and comming aboard his owne vessell, spent all the rest of the day in chasing the Pirate, whom he had infallibly taken, i [...] the night had come on two hou­res later. But the darkenesse taking him from our sight, he so absolutely stole away from our finding, that the nex [...] morning wee found our selves in full sea without sight of land or vessell. Polexander meditated long on what he should doe, at last the secret Ada­mant of Alcidiana's charmes drawing him to the inaccessible Island, he commanded his Pilot to returne thither. 'Twas easier for him to command it, then for the Pilot to o­bey it.

He tooke his Elevation, curiously consulted with his Card and Needle, he would have returned by the same course he came forth, and thought surely that for this time Alcidiana's Isle should neither be inchanted or inaccessible. Yet for all this, after he had sailed all day, and kept him fast to his way all the following night, and so on till next noone, he found his art and paines unserviceable against the inchantments of Alcidia­na's Island. It failed but little when Polexander knew his misfortune that he had not throwne himselfe over board; but seeing himselfe withheld by our reasons; Well (said he) since you will have it so, I will live; but it shall not be for my selfe, for I ne­ver hope to see Alcidiana againe; it shall be only for Amintha. Wee were three or foure dayes in doing nothing but whirling round that tempestuous sea, and attempting new waies to get sight of our inaccessible Island. The very winde was moved with the teares, and despaire of Polexander, and willing to moderate his griefe by some diversi­ons that might wholely take him up, cast him into such places where he met where­withall to exercise both his cholor and his valour. Some six dayes saile from Alcidia­na's Isle, if my supputation be right, there is in the way to those Isles which the Anci­ents called Hesperides, another sufficiently great and fertile, out inhabited by people so barbarous, or rather so unreasonable, that of all Nations I have seene there is none so differing as they from the nature of man. The winde having driven us on the Coast of that savage Countrey; Polexander landed with fifteene or twenty of his men, but he was no sooner on shoare, when he saw a great company of those furious brutes. They never inquired his intention, they would not give him leave to speake, nor would they suffer him to retire peaceable backe againe; but on the contrary, making the aire re­sound with their dreadfull shreeks and shouts, they camefuriously on our small company, and after they had given a volley of flints and arrowes, made Polexander suspend his u­suall humanity, and repell force by force. He came up to them, his sword drawne, and with it layd foure or five on the earth. When he saw wee imitated his example without winning ought on those savages: retire (said he to us) and doe not imbrew your swords in the blood of these wretches. He had no sooner given that command, but he saw a yong Maiden, who running and stretching out her hands, besought him to take her into his protection, and save her from the fury of those mad men. His noblenesse made him streight alter his command. He made againe on those beasts in a humane shape, [Page] and in spight of all their resistance, tooke from them the Maiden, whom they had over­taken and staied in the midst of her course. He put her in my custody, and commanding me to see her a shipboard, staied with Alcippus, Diceus, and ten or twelve others to re­sist the enemy. By little and little he got to the sea, and gave command to his Cano­neers to shoot among those savages. He was no sooner obeyed, but the Cannon scat­tred halfe of them in peeces about the strand, and the rest, to fly the more nimbly threw away their stones and arrowes, and hid themselves in great woods that came downe to the very shoare: As soone as the Prince was shipped againe, and had well laughed at our pleasant adventure, he desired to see the person he had given me in guard. I told him not who she was, but bringing her, he at first sight knew her, though she was disfigured with Sunburning, travell, hunger, and the outrages she received from those Barbarians. He shewed how joyfull he was for her deliverance; alas poore Eli­da (said he) by what accident fell'st thou into the hands of these Monsters? Is not thy Mistris there? Tell me (I prithee) where I may finde her, and what I may doe for her service.

'Twas Amintha's Maide, and had been forced away with her. As soone as she saw Polexander, she was like to have [...]lne to the ground, and being not able to speake, but after a long time: Ah my Lord (said she) how doth my good fortune amaze me! and how unable am I to tell you what you desire to know? Amintha did ever verily believe you would lose your selfe in striving to relieve her, and when her Ravisher gave her leave to be alone with me; the sole thing (would she say) of which I am most sensible, and chiefest to be thought lamented in my misfortune, is, that Polexander out of his generousnesse will not faile to engage himselfe in my disaster. He will leave our Isle to follow me, and never considering, that there is no returning when once he hath lost sight of it, will bootelesly adde his owne losse to mine. If thou lovest me (replied Po­lexander) kill me not by these new proofes of Amintha's generous affection. Tell me who was her Ravisher, and whether he hath carryed her? My Lord (answered Elida) my Mistris is in the hands of a Portugall Pirate, who is no lesse mad then those you now came from.

Ambition and love have deprived him of more then halfe his reason, and yet hath e­nough left to keepe him from being carried to the utmost violence against Amintha. A tempest throwing him upon the Isle of these inraged brutes, and necessity compelling him to land there, he went on shoare, and was received in the same manner as you. He lost many of his men, and was forced to put to sea againe in the height of the tempest. The aversion or [...]islike I had to him, and the shewes I made him every moment of it, put him on to rid me away. He therefore by force plucking me out of my Mistris armes, barbarously exposed me to the fury of these incensed savages. I must needes relate to you the strange accidents which have bet [...]ded me among these fooles. Thou shalt doe that another time, replied the King; but tell me now what is become of Amintha? That which I have told you (said she) may make you imagine I can certifie you nothing of my Mistris. Canst thou not at least (added Polexander) shew me as neere as can be, the way the Rover tooke? Even this same (replied she) and if I forget not, he is go­ing to meete with other Pirates which have their place of refuge and retreate in an Isle of this sea. I know where ' [...]is (said the Prince) and presently commanded his Pilot to stand for the Islands of Cape Vert.

He was obeyed, and so happily that within few dayes after wee discovered the con­tinent of Africa, to which he was forced against his will by the winde and the currents, and staied there longer then he desired; for they were so much becalmed right against the flourishing shoares of the Kingdome of Senega, that for three dayes together his ship was as setled as it had beene turned into a rock. The remembrance of the happi­nesse he had lost, and the vexations that continually followed him, fed then extraordi­narily on him. He disclosed those anxieties, impatiences and distasts, to which he had never beene knowne to be subject. He found fault with all, the calme was more insup­portable to him then the tempest, he would not even see Elida; and scarce could Alcip­pus and I draw him for a few moments out of this melancholy humour. There was but one thing that set him at rights, and 'twas the picture of Alcidiana. They talke of me [...] [Page] who (being possest by some ill spirits, and others distract of their reason) by the po­wer of musick have beene freed from those ill Demons, and cured of their madnesse; and I believe it to be true, since I saw Polexander above a hundred times get out of that fury which visibly possest him at the only aspect of Alcidiana's picture, and to take on his former wisdome, and usuall temper. But to the common misfortune of us all, that powerfull charme, that admirable counterpoyson, that Talismon more virtuous then all that are sold at Tunis and Morrocco: in a word, that picture (which is hard to believe) was taken out of Polexander's hands. During the calme whereof I have told you, he being much disquieted, and growing weary of his ship, made himselfe be ro­wed ashoare, and not desiring any company, no not Alcippus, there intertained his thoughts neere a Fountaine in the contemplation of the Queenes picture. 'Twas the last day of the calme, he came on shoare, and the sight of that [...]aire portraict, and his reading of some Arabian verses composed by him for the Princesse, brought him into a sleepe, and whilst he lay so at rest, a yong Prince called Almanzor (as long after wee learnt) by a fatall fortune was unluckily led to the place where the King my Master lay sleeping.

From a farre off he perceived his guilt armour, and knowing not what it might be, his curiosity drew him to approach as softly as he could. The King slept still, and the o­ther perceiving that famous boxe which Alcidiana had given him, staied to looke on the picture within it. He admired, was strucken, and became in love with it. Then ta­king up the paper wherein the Arabian verses were writ, and retiring without awake­ning the King, got on his horse, and fled away as fast as he could spurre. Polexander (informed by his Guardian Angell) awakened in the very instant that Almanzor was on horseback, and heard the noise he made in flying, but his understanding and memory be­ing not yet well cleered of those vapours which cause sleepe, had not the liberty, the one of reasoning on the present, and the other of what was passed. Yet remained he not long in this kinde of darkenesse. His soule opened her eyes as soone as those of his body were unshut. He remembred his boxe and his verses, and put his hand where he thought to finde them. But deceived in what he attempted, [...]e arose all startled, he sear­ched upon and about him, he turned whence he came, his eyes are fixed on the sands, he tosseth and turneth all the leaves and flints, and scratcheth and removeth the least leafe of grasse.

Then he be thought him of the noise he had heard, and said to himselfe, that what he had taken for the flight of a Lyon or some other beast, was that of the Theefe, which had carried away all the remainder of his treasure. He would faine have followed, but knew not what way to take. Yet he ran to the Mountaine, and being got very hye, whether goe I? (said he to himselfe) what doe I looke after? Will these deserts and forrests tell me newes of it? Presently he returned to the sea side, got into his shal­loppe, and commanded the Marriners to carry him aboard his ship. As soone as he was there, he entred his Cabin without speaking to any of us, and casting him on his bed: Thou couldest doe me no other outrage; (said he) But cruell Fate, thou ruinest [...]hine owne power, in destroying those Subjects over whom thou exercisest it, and in depri­ving me of that only thing [...] desired to preserve, thou [...]akest from me all that feare which hath so often made me have recourse to thy protection. Alcippus imagining by these words, that his Master had received some new displeasure, came neere and be­sought him to make knowne the cause of his affliction. O friend (said Polexander) some one hath stolen from me Alcidiana's picture! Doe but reflect on that disaster, and oblige me no [...] to unfold it to thee.

Alcippus, at first thought his Master talked idely; but hearing him a midst his sighes to cast forth the word of Theefe, of portraict, of Alcidiana, he thought (doubtlesly) the Prince had lost his boxe, and that the robbery of which he newely spoke was true indeede. He told it me, and I relating it to Diceus, it went quickly through the ship. One of our Marriners (at the same instant) saw a ship comming out of the River of Senega, and ignorant whether he spoke true or false, or whether he should speake it or no; cried out the theefe was running away, and 'twas fit they should make after him. The ship was thereupon made ready for the winde began to rise, and the sea men who [Page] looke after nothing but confusion and prey agreeing with their companion, cried out with him that 'twas not fit to suffer the theefe to escape. Alcippus hearing these cla­mours, came out of his Masters Cabin, and being told the cause of the noise, presently ran into Polexander to advertise him of it, and by that newes, false or true, drew him from his deadly melancholy.

Hereupon he left his Cabin, came on the deck, and understanding from whence the other ship came. Be confident (said he) that's the Theefe, follow him, and (if you love me) endeavour he may not escape us. Wee gave the ship chase three dayes and three nights, and comming up to her the fourth, engaged her to strike saile, and yeeld [...]o our discretion. Polexander first boorded her, and offring his sword at the Commanders throat, told him there was no other way to save his life, but by restoring what he had stolne. I am ready to obey you said the prisoner; but remember (if you please) that I have but lent my hands, and an absolute power hath commanded me to undertake the theft.

Well, well (replied Polexander) restore it, 'tis no matter by whom it was comman­ded or acted, so I have restitution, and with that urged his prisoner to performe quickly what was required of him. The poore man, all pale and trembling, drew out of his bo­some a ring and a letter, and presenting the first to Polexander; see (said he) my Kings high prized Seale, and then giving him the letter: This is that (he added) which hath cost the death of the writer, and had we not beene met withall, and interrupted by you, was going to be the instrument o [...] a more execrable Massacre. Polexander amazed at these things, and full of choller to see himselfe so far from his hopes; keepe thy letter and thy ring, said he to his prisoner, and give me the boxe thou stolest from me. The boxe which I have stolen, replied the prisoner? Ah, noble Sir, if it be your pleasure that I shall perish, doe not search for that pretext. I am guilty enough already, without the imputation of a crime whereof I am innocent. What (said Polexander exceeding­ly angry) didst thou not steale it whilst I sleept on the banckes of Senega? I perceive now, said the prisoner, that you take me for another, and truely 'tis an admirable act of the eternall Providence, which continually watcheth for the preservation of Inno­cents.

Doe then, (my Lord) doe what that commands you! Punish a traytour and assassi­nate, who to satisfie his ambition, hath exiled from his breast all sence of honour and p [...]o­bity, and made himselfe the executioner of a Monsters cruelties, who hath but the ap­pearance of a woman. Polexander thought then he was certainly mistaken, and was at the point of setting the man at liberty; but considering that such a freedome might be the cause of some great wickednesse, he tooke the ring and letter which till then he had left in the hand of his prisoner, and made him come with him into his owne shippe, where not knowing what to doe further, bid his Pilot steere whither he pleased, for all courses were alike to him. Whilst Alcippus, the Pilot, and my selfe were consulting of the speediest way for our quick returne to the Canaries: Polexande passed the time with his prisoner, and required from him an [...] of his former speeches. The African knowing he had spoken too much [...]o hide the rest, and the feare of death be­sides, having brought him to a repentance of his [...]ormer life, he made no scruple of discovering such secrets as he intended no more to make gaine on. I am (said he) a Subject to the King of Senega. The g [...]ddy humours of that Prince, have many times throwne me from the top of all prosperity to the botome of all disgrace, and then a­gaine raised me to the height of all greatnesse. This inconstancy made me feare some blowe that would prove mortall to me at last, and to avoid it, I thought it best to betray what most concerned him, to advance the interests of that famous [...], whom he hath set in the place of the virtuous Almanzaira. This new Queene is called Zelopa, who extreamely politicke, knowing that Zabaim was not possibly long to be held in without a great many bonds, hath fettered him with such strong ones, that she [...]eares no [...] his flitting from her. She hath got him to proclaime his Queene guilty of high treason, and to condemn her to a prison unlimitable, but by the ends of her life. Nay she had wo [...] him to have strangled with his owne hands the Sonne [...] had by that unfortunate Prin­cesse; but that Almaid a Lord of Senega hindered the murther, and plucked the [...] [Page] from the blinde fury of the Father, and the sharpe sighted rage of his step-mother, who for a long time knew not what was become of the Childe; but her spies were so indu­strious that at last they discovered he was bred up in King Benin's Court. As soone as she heard it, she resolved his death, and chusing me for the executioner, or at least the prosecutor, she put in practice all that she knew might conduce to the perfecting of her damnable designe. She forced Zabaim to write to Benin for the delivering his Sonne into my hands, and in case he should refuse it, forced to denounce war against him.

You may easily see all this wickednesse proved when you please to read the letter I gave you. But in as much as the African Kings never make denuntiation of wars; but they send the Ring which is the principall note of their dignity, I found a way to steale it from Zabaim. Now, to tell you, after so many villanies, that which hath beene the cause of my being now your prisoner; know, I parted from Senega expressely on a message to King Benin, and if that Prince had delivered into my hands the lawfull heire of Senega, for certaine (blinded as I was with ambition) I had executed Zelopa's com­mand, and sheathed the sword I weare in the breast of that Innocent. Polexander af­frighted at so horrible a relation, told his prisoner he gave thankes to heaven for his be­ing mistaken, and that in his misfortunes he found a great deale of consolation; since the divine goodnesse had vouchsafed to make use of his errour for the hindring the death of the Prince of Senega. It belongs to me, answered the prisoner, (throwing himself at our Princes feete) to give thankes to the fountaine of all mercy, for the enlightning my soule with the raies of his love in spight of my obduratnesse. I therefore make a vow not to abuse it any more, nor ever to returne into my Countrey till it be freed from Zelopa's tyranny. You shall doe very well, replied Polexander, and to quit you from the sorrowing for the losse of your fortunes by this resolution, I engage my selfe to re­store them to you.

The Prince infallibly had beene better then his word to him, but heaven seeing the holy and rigorous penitence of that sinner, was willing to recompence him more liberally then Polexander: For it tooke him out of this world, the very same day that wee arrived at the Canaries. I will not relate to you the sundry fights Polexander had with the Pirates, whilst wee strove to bring him back into his Kingdome. I will only tell you he was there no more happy then he was at sea. At his arrivall he heard of the death of the incomparable Axiamira. He bewailed her losse as much as it deserved, and after some moneths of mourning, from one part of piety [...]ell to another. He be­stowed all his time in hearing the complaints of his Subjects, to reconcile their diffe­rences, and to free them from all feare of the Spanish forces. After all this, he deigned to cast his eyes on me, declared me his Vice-roy in all his Isles, and establishing me in that authority before his departure, commanded that in his absence, I should be obeyed as himselfe. Scarce tooke he any time of repose after so many travells and disquiets. Amintha's Confident, whom he had brought from the Islands of mad men, seeing him still to grieve for the losse of the picture, strive said she one day to get the thing it selfe, rather then the shadow. That thought (answered the Prince) comes on me a hundred times in a day, but I give no eare to it, because it proposeth to me a thing impossible. Tis so indeed (replied Elida) by ordinary meanes, but you must have recourse to such as are not so.

Alas! and what are those asked the Prince? I imagine to my selfe one (added E­lida) that seemes to me infallible. I prithee tell that me, said the King. It behooves you then (added Elida) either under pretext of religion or otherwise, to get entrance into the Isle of the Sun, and when you are permitted to abide there, stay for the comming of Lynceus or some other of Alcidiana's Pilots. I intend so much (sadly answered Polex­ander) but when I have attempted it, what will be the issue for my consolation. I make it no difficulty to get into the Isle of the Sun, since it is never denied to such as come thither to sacrifice. And I may too stay there, nay and meete with those that come from Alcidiana's Island; but all this is nothing, for I am certaine, the Queenes Pilots will never receive me into their vessell. What ground have you for that feare, said Elida to him? From some what you have spoaken to me unawarres, replied Polexander. I thinke [Page] I know what you would say, answered Elida. Yet faile not to doe all that lies in your power, and leave the rest to fortune. If you gat [...]er thence no other satisfaction, yet you shall at least have thus much, that you have not neglected any meanes of making your selfe happy. Well I'le believe you, deare Elida, said the Prince, and indeed fol­lowed her advice so absolutely, that the very next day he put to Sea, and tooke with him that Maiden, Alcippus, and Diceus, and though his Pilot knew not the scituation of the Island of the Sun, yet he promised to finde it, provided it were not inchanted as that of Alcidiana. But the season being extreamely ill, and the difficulty which the Pilot thought to orecome, greater then he imagined, he was above two moneths contesting with his ignorance, and the frequent stormes. At last he drew neere to that Island, and Polexander being where he might discover a far off, perceived a vessell which came a­way from the Isle. He made up to her, he carefully marked her, and finding by assured tokens that she belonged to Alcidiana, followed her, but in such a manner as he belie­ved he made them not jealous of him.

Yet Lynceus (for twas he) perceived the Kings designe, and winding up and downe all the rest of the day, thrust himselfe into the Haven of the Sun, as soone as the obscu­rity of the night had made him lose sight of the Princes vessell. The next morning he sought for her, he pursued her, he got with all the sailes he could make away from the place where he might have found her; in short, by often turning and traversing that sea, Polexander returned to the place from whence he set saile. Heere he spent a part of the winter, for all his impatiences. At last his strength being by little and little ore come by the weakenesse of his minde, he fell sick of a languishing disease. Oftentimes we thought him dead, but his good temper having wrestled neere six moneths with his dis­quiet thoughts and melancholy he recovered, I may say from the grave. Yet was he a­bove six moneths more wherein he could not put himselfe to the least effect, but he fell againe into his former malady. After so many relapses, he at last got strength whether he would or no, and recovering by the returne of the Sun a health more vigourous and setled then that which he had lost, he would sacrifice it as the other, to his passion, dis­quiets, and new voyages.

And now seeing the season approach, wherein Alcidiana's ships used to set saile for the Island of the Sunne, he did what he had so often done before, without any other de­signe then to end his life in quest of that happinesse he had lost. Whether it were that Alcidiana's ships were already gone, or that she had altered the time of sacrifices; so it happened, that Polexander found nought of what he searched on the coast of the Isle of the Sun. Whilst he was in this perplexity, one of Bajazets Rovers fell into his hands. He used him with a great deale of courtesie, and wonne him to stay sometime with him. During which, talking of divers things, he understood how valiant Baja­zet was, how generous and magnificent, and of his being passionately in love with a great Princes [...], whose picture he carried in a boxe of Diamonds. At the newes of this imagine you see Polexander troubled, all in disquiet, and transported with the desire of revenge.

He certainely believes it to be the boxe that was stolen from him: And to be cer­taine, describes to the Pirate the forme of the boxe, makes to him a picture of Alcidia­na's picture, and forgets not the least stroake in it. The Pirate, who may be only spoke by hearesay, or but confusedly, remembred what he had seene, answered Polexander to his owne desire, and could so well perswade him that Bajazets boxe was the same he described, that he presently put on to assault him in his Island in the very midst of all his forces. But his good fortune was he found him not there. He was gone a roving with his f [...]eete; and the Governour of the Isle understanding Polexanders designe by the Pirate he had let goe, would have staied him, not only as an enemy of his Governour, but as a man for whose redemption there might be payd a great ransome. Polexander, was therefore set on in his vessell, by all those the Pirates reserved for the guard of the Isle: Imagine now the Princes resolution when he saw himselfe in the midst of fifteen or twenty Pinnaces and Gallies. He made a fight that can never be worthily enough related, no not by the most eloquent pen in the world. He fought two dayes and two nights without intermission, and as a generous Lyon not only teares in pieces the toiles [Page] that invirone him, but the hunters also that oppose his passage; so did this Heroë, either sincke force from fight part of the enemies vessells, and making a great slaughter of the Pirates, gloriously returned by the same way he came thither. The third day after this victorious retreate he discovered a ship, and thinking it belonged to the Rovers that had so traytrously dealt with him, he commanded them in it to strike saile. The Master not obeying, there began a fight with the Cannon, and was continued by handy blowes. Polexander in that incounter met with a hardy enemy, and 'twas that valiant Prince, the Sonne of Zabaim and Zelop [...], who as I have told you tooke away Polexanders box. The fight was equally maintained by the valour of those two Princes for the space of [...]ven or eight houres.

Now was Polexander in Almanzor's vessell, and anon after was Almanzor in Polex­ander's. They were imitated by their Souldiers, who came on or retreated, as they had more or lesse good fortune. That was the cause, when the tempest had seperated them, some of Almanzor's Souldiers were in Polexanders ship, and the Prince wanted of his, and amongst others that famous Italian Painter, who had drawne for him Alcidiana's picture. The storme taking him after the combate, he was very violently beaten by it for five or six dayes, but at last his Pilot knew, that the ill weather had beene very fa­vourable to him, since in a small time with an extreame swiftnesse it had made him crosse a long space of the sea. The fi [...]st day of the calme he discried the top of the prodigious hye Pike of Teneriffe, and advising Polexander of it, he was commanded to get in and cast anchor there. At his landing, all the Inhabitants of the Isle shewed so much joy for his returne, and so great a desire to enjoy him longer, that he resolved to give them that satisfaction. In the meane time he sent Diceus into the other Islands to make choice of the best ships in the Havens, and to cause ten or twelve to be made ready at all points for him.

His providence may be tearmed propheticall, for Diceus was no sooner returned with the ships, but the Portugalls appeared about the Isles. Their confederates they had yet among the Canarians, had without doubt given them advice of the losse of Polex­ander, of the Queen his Mothers death, and the desire which many witnessed of retur­ning into the Portugall subjection. They therefore believing they needed but to shew themselves, and so enter in possession of the Isles, drew neere without doing any act of hostility, and sent newes of their comming to those who had called them thither. The answer they received was not such as they expected. Word being sent how Polexander was safely returned. Neverthelesse they were advised to land in the very Isle of Tene­ [...]ffe, to set on their enemy whilst he was weakest, and not to give him time to collect his Troopes. This counsell was followed, and 'twas so, but for the King my Masters greater honour. I dare say, that the forepassed times whatever they talke to us of their H [...]roës and Conquerors, have left us nothing that may be compared with that which Polexander did for the safety of his Subjects. Greece vauntes she had a Prince so magna­nimous, that he alone cast himselfe into an enemies City, and alone sustained all the as­sau [...]s and sha [...]s of a Nation who wished his death. But Polexander did that by the greatnesse of his courage, which the other did by necessity. Instead of standing as simply defensive, he went on alone to incounter a great number of the worlds most va­liant Souldiers; and what passeth all beliefe, in opposing his only sword and courage, to the [...]ury and power of a whole Navall Army, disputed with it two dayes and two nights their entry of the port of Tene [...]iffe, and gave time to his ships to come and par­take in so wonderfull a victory.

The Portugalls perceiving well there was nothing but blowes to be gotten, fled after a short fight, and seeing themselves chased by our vessels, retired into the ports they have on the coast of Africa. Polexander had begū to take breath after all these turmoiles, whē a new enemy as much to be feared as all the Portugals together, ingaged him to exercise once more his valor. Twas the generous Almanzor Prince of Senega. I have told you he found Polexander sleeping neer the sea shoar, and how he took away his box, & Alcidi­ana's picture. 'Twas a fatal theft to him. He saw himself takē as soone as he had takē; for Alcidiana's admirable beauty communicating to her picturs some beame of her light, & a part of her power stroke those with love that had never seen her, & flash'd forth flames [Page] from a cold piece of copper, and a few dead colours. As soone as Almanzor had made tryall of that prodigious adventure, he coveted nothing, no not life, but for Alcidiana, and turned all his youthfull valour, against a Rivall whom he thought to be more gra­ced then himselfe. Nor was he tormented with that sole Demon, for those of honour and renowne did not lesse afflict him. His generous disposition upbraided him with his these, and represented to him his poorenesse of spirit which could not sufficiently be condemned, for stealing and robbing a man that was a sleepe. These two motives with his jealousie and repentance, made him leave his owne Territories the very day of his Coronation, and forced him to crosse an unknowne sea in quest of Alcidiana and Polexander.

The last he met withall, as I told you, and fought with him unknowne. But after they were seperated by the tempest, he knew it from out Italian Painter which was left in his ship, and then he thought of nothing else but of finding him againe. As soone as he was in the roade of Teneiffe, he sent back the Italian to Polexander, and by him a letter so full of excuses for his fault committed, and so many testimonies of his repen­tance, that by the accusation and humiliation, the King my Master knew the magnani­mity of that Prince. At the end of his letter he spoake to him of the greatnesse of his love, and said, his passion had reduced him to that point, that he could not without death restore a thing which he himselfe confessed could not be detained without the losse of his honour.

Polexander, sent Alcippus to him with the Italian, to assure him of the estimation he held of his courage and intention, to intreate from him the honour, to enter his Terri­tories, and assure him he would contribute to his contentment all that did not oppose the service he owed to Alcidiana. Almanzor grew almost desperate to heare all these generosities, and made shew of an extreame sensibility of what his Rivall had offered him, called himselfe a most unfortunate man to have to contest with so high a virtue, and at last told Alcippus, he most humbly besought Polexander to give him the happinesse to make an end on Land, of that fight which they began at Sea. Alcippus set all his wits on worke to alter that Princes resolution; but seeing 'twas all in vaine: I will (said he) goe, and make knowne to my Master the King the true cause of my voyage. I be­seech you doe so (replied Almanzor) and after his imbracie would have loaden him with jewells. But Alcippus very civilly refusing them, got himselfe to be landed, and so went to give an account to his Master of what he had done with Almanzor. That brave and great King sent him back with new complements to his enemy, and till the day of fight treated him as if he had beene Zelmatida or Iphidamantus. The Indian Prince smiled at the old Pimantus addresse, and intreated him to relate the combate be­tweene those two illustrious Rivalls. The particulars (answered the Vice-roy) deserve your curiosity.

Those two Princes met at one instant on the place of combate, armed at all points, and mounted on two of the best horses in all Africa. They threw away their speares af­ter the first course, and with their swords beg [...]n so furious a comba [...]e that I cannot ex­presse it to you; but in saying. it was the dreadfull effect of a prodigious cause. That fu­ry and rage which yong men call love, in arming those two youthfull Princes dispoy­led them of all judgement and humanity. Thinke after that, what they were capable to act. They contented not themselves in covering the earth with the bloody pi [...]ces of their broaken armour, but made rivers of their owne blood, and becomming far diffe­rent and unresembling the men they had beene till then, confinde all their former gene­rous ambitions in the fearefull desire of each others destruction. At last Polexanders in­vincible Angell compelled Alma [...]zot's to contend no more against his fate, and to humble himselfe before a power that mastred his. Almanzor, covered with blood and woundes fell downe under his horse legs: Polexander was as quickly alighted, and to him with his sword in his hand; you desired (said he) to be overcome, confesse now, that you are so. That Prince seeing himselfe neere the losse of his life, contemning the threats of his enemy, cast his thoughts on Alcidiana, and addressing himselfe to her, made to that Queene a resignation of his life in such tearmes as drew teares from the eyes of his Conquerour. What said I, his Conquerour? No, the King my Master, in [Page] hearing them, confessed himselfe vanquished, presented his sword to Almanzor, begged him his life, and avowing that he was only worthy to serve Alcidiana: he added; yes certainely you deserve that honour, and you are too sole vanquisher; for our combate having for object nothing but Alcidiana's service, he alone may justly be termed victor, who hath given the best testimony of his love and constancy. Polexander yet went further, for seeing Almanzor desperate of life, he left him his sword, and going away, as if afraid, strove to make it believed he had had no advantage ore Almanzor. That poore Prince would faine have died where he fell, but his Servants carried him back into his ship, and finding his woundes not mortall, omitting nothing to hinder de­spaire from doing more then the sword of Polexander. But all their labour was in vaine, for Almanzor would absolutely dye, and after a languishing of many moneths percei­ving he began to amend, he caused himselfe to be carryed into that stately Tombe which is to be seene in one of our Isles, and unmercifully turned on himselfe a weapon more cruell then that of his Rivall.

The King my Master heard not of his death till a long time after, by meanes of his forsaking his Realme, as soone as his woundes were healed, and rebeginning his errant life, to lose the sorrow for his victory, as also to tempt fortune againe, and meet some Angell, or some star that might reconduct him to the Inaccessible Island. But neither on the waters, nor in the skies found he ought, but what had conspired his ruine. Ne­verthelesse he returned to the Isle of the Sun, and had long conference with some Priests whom he had wone by his gifts.

From them he got all that might advance his intention, and yet ran two moneths more up and downe the sea to try his fortune. He put in execution all that love advised, he observed all that the Priests of the Sun had prescribed him, and notwithstanding did nothing but increase his afflictions, and ruinate the remainder of his hopes. In this vaine travell having spent almost all the yeere, which was the fourth since he came out of Al­cidiana's Island, he came to winter in this Island, and in the beginning of the spring put to sea with seaven good ships of consort. In this last voyage he perceived that perseve­rance might overcome the malignity of fortune and the starres; for being a dayes saile from the Island of the Sun, he discovered three great vessells, and for feare of terri­fying them commanded his Pilot to steere a contrary course to theirs till the beginning of the night, which was executed with so much art, that the three ships sailed without any suspition.

At sun set, Polexander hoysed up all his sailes, and was so fortunate, that at day breake he was come up so close to them, as he knew them to be of the Inaccessible Island. He saw Alcidiana's new arising Phoenix painted on the sailes of the tallest, and judging thereby it was the sacred vessell: Companions (said he) at last wee have found that wee have sought for these foure yeeres; but that we may not perish in the Haven, we must joyne wisdome to valour, and ability to affection. Let every one of you therefore contribute to my contentment, and make it appeare in this occasion the same obedience they have testified in all those that have preceded. I particularly desire from you this obedience (said he) because by it I will suspence with your valour, hold your hands, and take from you that wonted fervency wherewithall you were accustomed to assaile mine enemies.

You know these are none, and 'tis only the reverence they beare to their Lawes of their Countrey, and their Queenes command, which makes them turne their armes a­gainst us. After he had thus spoaken, he caused five of his ships to make up, and com­manded the Pilots to get the winde. Himselfe with two other made right to those of Alcidiana. They instantly severed, one tooke towards the South, another towards the East, and the last Northerly. This stratagem angred Polexander, and made him afraid of losing them, either in following them severally, or if he should give chase but to one. He deliberated a while what to doe, and thought it best to get his ships together, and follow all that which tooke her course to the North. It was the greatest, and therefore he thought her to be that wherein Lynceus was. Well after her he made; but the first and second day he could not come up within reach of the Canon. The third day he got to her, but that the night made him lose sight of her, and was the cause why all the next [Page] day she could not be seene of them. The fift, he discovered his Canaries, and a Marriner which was in the scuttle of the Mast, cried out, he discried Alcidiana's ship. This newes infused new life into Polexander and his followers. They hasted all after the cunning Lynceus, and having singled and found him out among so many turnings the sea makes by reason of the Islands, laid him aboard in sight of that of Iron. He could no more have escaped us, but must be taken. Polexander was now (as he thought) the Ma­ster of fortune, when a great vessell which lay in the roade of the foresaid Isle, came out, met with him, and staied him, and withall gave testimony that the inequallity of their forces should not binder him from fighting. Polexander cryed out to his men, that they should not amuse themselves about that new enemy, but closely follow Lynce­us. But the Turkes in the great vessell forced them to fight for their passage. The King inraged at this obstacle, layd the Turkes aboard, and being unable to compell them to a retreat, came to handy stroakes with their Captaine. I will relate to you an admirable adventure: In the heate of the fight, some of our people crying out, that Polexander had the victory; scarce had the Captaine of the Turks heard that name, but he came and threw himselfe at the feete of the King my Master, presented him his armes, petiti­oned to be chastised for his insolency, and in a word, made himselfe knowne to be the same Iphidamantus whom the Sultan Bajazet forced away the same day he caused Peri­ander to be strangled.

Polexander astonished at the adventure, witnessed how much he rejoyced in seeing him againe, but remembring he lost Lynceus, intreated him to goe and expect his re­turne at the Canaries, and suffer him to follow the ship wherein his fortunes were in­closed. Iphidamantus after he had craved pardon for his errour, would repaire it in as­sisting him to take Lynceus. They did all they could to fetch him up again, but in vaine, and in lieu of it found themselves pestred betweene two Navall Armies, which were ready to give battle. The one was Spanish, and the other made up of part Turkes, and part Moores.

The Vice-roy of Argier commanded in chiefe, who having passed the streights at the request of Abdelmelec and other Africans to make an enterprize on the Portugall, saw himselfe compelled after a bloody fight, to returne into the Mediterranean, and dispute no more for the Empire of the Ocean with a Nation, who by their late discoveries, and mighty fleete were gotten Masters of it. 'Tis fit before I proceed further, that I relate to you Iphidamantus life, as he himselfe told it his brother Polexander whilst they were together. Do not put your self to that trouble, Father, replied Zelmatida; I know it all. He himself made it known to me in the Pirats Iland. I know how he was bred by the Basha Achomat under the name of Soliman, that Melicerta and Histeria daughters of the Ba­sha fell in love with him, and am not ignorant how the insensibility of Achomat caused the death of the one, and the banishment of the other. In briefe I know all that hath [...]ided him to the very day he was taken by our deare Bajazet. Since 'tis so, replied the Vice-roy, I have no more to tell you, but that Polexander (after the battle betwixt the Turkes and Spanyards) finding againe the pretended ship of Lyncens, did what he could to winne her by faire meanes. But that being bootelesse, he followed her to the Pirats Island, fought with her, and at last understood he had taken all that paines only for an apparition and Chymera. For in effect 'twas not Lynceus, but a Rover called Cid Hamet, which scoured through the seas in a ship which a little before he had taken from one of Alcidiana's Pilots.

Judge now, great Prince if love be not a dangerous thing, or rather a malediction which heaven in its anger powres downe to chastice the sinnes of the earth. Certain­ly tis the greatest scourg it can inflict upon us. O Sorceror which empoysonest by thy fa­teries? O Basiliske which murdrest whomsoever thou beholdest! Accursed love, which whilst I live shalt be the object of my hatred and imprecations. By thee, the most vali­ant and generous of all Kings hath lost the use of reason, the fairest time of his life, the desire of honour, and the hope of a thousand conquests. Through thee he goes like a mad man to assaile all alone a whole Nation, and expose himselfe to the fury and deri­sion of a hundred thousand Barbarians. Through thee he hath altred the order of na­ture, the necessity of his condition, and of a great Prince as he was borne, he is become [Page] a new Monster of the Ocean, the playing toy of the windes and waves, the outcast of the rocks, and the prey of Pirates. It may be at this houre I speake he is tossed by some surious tempest, sees all the elements animated aginst his temerity, and findes himselfe at the point of paying by a sad shipwrack the contempt he hath had of that absolute power, which with an equall justice disposeth both of the calmes and tempest. The Vice-roy's feare was not only provident, but propheticall, for at the very time he spoke, Polexander expected, (but constantly) the shipwrack which threatned him. Yet he es­caped it, and after the surmounting many perrills, landed in a little Bourg, which is but two dayes journey from Copenhagen. He came on shoare in that place to thinke advisedly on what he was to doe for his cloathing himselfe after the Danish fashion, to avoide the exposing his person in strange habits to the fight of the vulgar people of Copenhagen.

He had not much Danish, but he had enough for not being a stranger among that rude Nation. When he had put all things in order, he got on horseback with Alcippus and Diceus, and tooke the next way to the chiefe City. He lodged (first night) in a great Towne a little dayes journey from it, and rising about breake of day, which was then about ten of the cloack, he rid a great way before he baited, and having not past five houres of way more to ride, he entred into a great wood of firre trees, and had scarce gone two hundred paces, but he was ingaged to stay and read in a copper table fixed to a tree the way he was to take. Whilst he made that inquisition, he heard a great noice, and making a stand, lent his eare, and judged there were some theeves robbing of passengers, his innate goodnesse soliciting for their succour, he rid towards them, and leaving his way, tooke another far narrower, which seemed to lead to an old Ca­stle which he saw on the knap of a mountaine. When he was come to some ruines which he saw in a little open bottome, he perceived a man with his sword drawne de­fending himselfe against five who would either have taken or murdred him: Wounded he was in many places; yet did not his woundes deprive him of strength or courage. The King made in to second him, and instantly mingled amongst the murtherers, made them feele the weight of his blowes, and gave them not time to perpetrate that crime they had begun.

The Dane perceiving the assistance which was as 'twere miraculously betided him, tooke breath, joyning with his defender, fell'd on the earth the last of his enemies. He thought the combate done, when Alcippus and Diceus cried out, and he looking about, saw ten new cut throats came to charge him, who questionlesse had surprised him with­out their advertisement. With that Polexander alighted, so did Alcippus, Diceus who was a Souldier followed them, and the Dane shewing himselfe more resolute, and un­toyled then before, went foremost to meet those traitours, and no lesse terrified them by his threats then his blowes. Alcippus valiant even to rashnesse, flew on one of the theeves, but whilst he laid him in the dust, was charged behind, and so pressed that he could not turne head. He received so unfortunate a blow, that he lost the motion of his right arme, and by consequence the meanes of using his sword. He was even compel­led to sit downe, and leave to others the taking of revenge which he was desperate of being able to performe himselfe.

Polexander no sooner saw him unfit for further combate, but he ran to him, and so manfully sustained the stroake of the enemy, that he deprived them of their obstinacy of fighting. The Dane had a great part in this defeate, and Diceus was not without acqu [...]ing a greate deale of honour there. The combate being ended, Polexander went againe to see in what case Alcippus was, and thought him dead, when he saw him bleed so exceedingly.

But Diceus assured him, he had no other hurt then a veine cut, and that 'twas nothing. They quickly saw he spoake truth, for he stopped the blood by the first swathband. Pre­sently the Dane came to Polexander, and seeming almost nothing weakened by his woundes: I cannot (said he) render you service, that may any way equalize the obli­gations I owe you. Did I owe you but my life, I could be in hope of acquitting my selfe by offring you that little of it which I have remaining. But being engaged to you [Page] for my honour and my life, I can neither finde words sufficient to expresse my grati­tude, nor what to doe to returne a satisfaction. Neverthelesse let me know who you are, and what fortune, so favourable for me, conducted you to this wood. That little of life which my wounds have left me, beseecheth you not to retard that favour for which I petition.

Polexander, would have answered him so, as he might have beene contented; but some twenty paces from him he saw a woman of a very good countenance, though she seemed not young, who was mightily affrighted. As soone as the Dane saw her, he thought no more of what he had asked Polexander, nor may be on his woundes. He opened his lips to speake, but his strength failing he fell downe as dead: O! Heaven, cried the Lady, seeing him fall, must I needes be so miserable? And therewithall com­ming neere to one of the slaine, and a while considering him perfidious Adolphus (said she) hast thou thus betraied me? Or rather see how thou hast betrayed thy selfe. Hea­ven is just, and its wisdome permits not rancor and malice to have alwaies the upper hand of innocency. Which done, she ran to succour the Dane, whom Polexander had so well assisted, and after she had oftentimes called him her Sonne and her hope, commanded a Maiden that followed her, to run quickly to fetch her Essence, and call some of her servants.

The Maiden hastned and quickly returned with all she was sent for. The Lady then powred some drops of a very cleare water into the Danes mouth, and presently he came from his swound. Wherewith the Ladies servants lifted him into a coppered chaire, and would have carried him away; but he commanded to stay, and intreating Polexander to come neere, yeelded him thousands of thankes, then giving him a picture boxe, covered with Diamonds with a great deale of civillity: Be pleased said he to ac­cept this boxe, for a remembrance of our meeting. But doe not imagine, I am so igno­rant of the value of things, that I thinke my selfe acquitted of the debt I owe you by the worth of the stones on it; if I intreate you to accept it, tis for no other considera­tion but that you may know if you come to the Court, the name of the man whom you have obliged. I dare not stay longer with you, Thamiris command, which calls me o­ther where is too just to be obeyed. At first Polexander was somewhat nice to take the boxe, but perceiving by the Danes speech, what a discontent that might have been to him had he refused it, and besides conjecturing that token might be advantagious to him in his designe, he tooke it, and told him, that going to the Court, he would not faile to bring it him back aga he. After this promise, many great compliments passed, & assurd him, that if any other then the Lady who had so well assisted him, had commanded his carry­ing thence, he would hardly have resolv'd to part with him. The Dane besought him not to be troubl'd for him & said, that whither he went he rā no hazard. Polexander expoun­ded his words in the sence a Lover might give them, and for feare of disobliging, tooke his leave of him and the Lady, and so with Alcippus and Dic [...]us went streight to horse, and recovering the high-way, got quickly into a great Village at the end of the wood, wherein he had met that bloody adventure. Of necessity he was to alight there, for Al­cippus was so weake that he could ride no further. He had him to be brought into the best Inne, and commanded Diceus to treate him as himselfe. It hapned as fate would, that the Hoste was an old Souldier, who after his bearing armes many yeares without bettering his fortune, had retired himselfe thither, and married an old Hostesse very well accommodated.

Polexander, desirous to free the minde of his Hoste from the astonishment he had to see Alcippus in so ill an estate, told him, how in passing by the neighbouring forrest, they had been set on by theeves. You are not the first (said he) who have fallen into their hands. There is none that passeth that way, but he loseth his life or his money if he be not well accompanied. Those are the inconveniences the wars usually leave be­hinde them, and the disorders which happen through the negligence, or purloining of such as are appointed the Souldiers pay masters. This mans discourse made Polexander believe that he might informe him of what he so much longed to know. He therefore in a small time grew to a great familiarity with him, and to win him absolutely, put him­selfe to the trouble of inventing a thousand tales, under whose probabillity he was got [Page] to be of his ancient acquaintance. Some fifteene dayes he was in that Inne, for Alcip­pus cure, and one of them being wonderfull desirous to know who he might be whom he had ayded, and finding his Hoste in a good humour, asked him whether he went not sometimes to the Court? He made answere, he had beene there but too often, and how after his unfortunately living there five and twenty yeeres, he was constrai­ned to retire to get his bread, and play the begger no longer. If so (said Polexander) there are then but few persons of quallity whose faces you know not? 'T were happy for me, said he, if I knew them lesse then I doe, and that their false semblances had not vainely abused my expectation, and worne out the prime of my youth. Whilst he was talking thus, Polexander opened the boxe which the Dane gave him, and taking out the picture shewed it to his Host. Scarce had he fully seene it, but he cried out, and clap­ping Polexander on the shoulder, whence come you said he, that you know not this face? I come (replied Polexander) from wandring through most of Europe, and am but newly come into Denmarke. By chance found I this picture, and imagining it belongs to some great Lord, I would faine restore it, and that bred my curiosity to know him. You have good cause to prosecute your intention (answered the Hoste) for 'tis the por­traict of one who is likely to enrich you for the least service you can doe him; his name is Phelismond, our Kings Heire and Favourite, or to speake more freely, he is indeed the very King of Denmarke.

At the name of Phelismond, Polexander was so supprised, that he changed colour, and was faine to sit downe to resettle himselfe. His Host tooke notice of it, and as­ked whether he were not well? He replied, twas the remaines of a late sicknesse, and so cast himselfe on a bed, as well to dismisse the man, as to ponder seriously on so wonderfull an accident. After a long times musing, he rising, addressed himselfe to his [...] and told him he must participate of his astonishment, and know who 'twas whom they had [...] from among the theeves. Tis (said he) Phelismond; surely I know by this [...]at reaven delights in the confounding the judgements of men, and laughing at [...] deliberations, will they nill they, brings on them all which it had de­creed from all eternity.

I came of purpose into this Kingdome to kill that Phelismond, whom for Alcidiana's sake I have prosecuted as the chiefest of mine enemies, and yet the first adventure which presented it selfe heere, engaged me to hazard mine owne life to preserve his. After this miracle, I bow my head, and see cleerely that heaven cannot suffer our rash thoughts to oppose themselves against the secrets of its providence. My passion presented to me Phelismond as one of those happy Monsters, whome fortune takes pleasure to raise a­loft, to shew how far pride and licence to doe any thing dare goe. But I know quite contrary, that this Prince is adorned with excellent quallities, and his courtesie is no lesse winning then his valour is redoubtable, without whose approbation there is not a virtue, but is a vice, nor courage, but is unmanlinesse. I am no lesse guilty then Phelis­mond, since I have received other Lawes then those thou gavest me. Tushe, tushe, I re­nounc [...]e all these unlawfull motions, for since thou hast resolved it, Phelismond must pe­rish.

When Polexander had ended, Alcippus began, and confessed there was something of he knew not what extraordinary good in this adventure; neverthelesse (said he to his Master) I admire nought at all these strange accidents which betide in what you have undertaken. You should not be the man you are if things did not befall you other­wise then to other men. Well, well, (said Polexander interrupting him) tis enough; once, either Phelismond or I must dye. The sentence of our deaths hath been given by the mouth of a Judge, from whom it is neither lawfull for him or I to appeale. Come let's see whether he have as much courage against love as we have been witnesses he had against other enemies. Two or three dayes after this last resolution of the King, Diceus assured him Alcippus might get on horseback, and they all three departed from their Inne, and the same day betimes arrived at Copenhagen. They lodged neere the Pallace, and understood the very next day, Phelismond was by the Kings command brought into the City, and being absolutely out of danger, was seene and visited by e­very one. This newes exceedingly pleased Polexander; yet resolved to attend his cer­taine [Page] health before he would make knowne to Phelismond the cause of his voyage, and thought it fit withall to restore him his boxe, and disclose himselfe, that so at his returne he might intimate to him that which lay on his heart. One morning therefore, taking Alcippus with him he went streight to the Favorites lodging, as soone as he came in, he noted there was nothing in that man but savoured of the greatnesse of his courage. His house was open to all men. No person hindred the entrance into his chamber, no not of his withdrawing roome. Tis true, he was so generally beloved, and the respect the whole Court had alwaies borne him was so strong a guard to him, that neither great nor lesse came to disturbe him but upon some very just cause. The first to whom Polex­ander addrest himselfe to know whether that Prince was to be spoken with, offred to conduct him into his chamber, and Polexander accepting his courtesie, followed him. He went through great Halls very stately furnished, through chambers, and anti-cham­bers far more magnificent, wherein he saw none but Phelismonds domesticall servants. This sollitude so much ravished him, that he could not hold from telling his Conductor, the Courtiers of Denmarke, were either very negligent or little ambitious, since they gave so much ease and quiet to the man, who only next the King might make them a fortune.

You see (answered his Guide) that our Po [...]ters have no greate imployment, and there is no great crouding in our chambers. Yet tis not because our Couriers are not the most diligent, and ambitious of all men; but the Prince long since told them once for all, that he pretended not to be the most unfortunate in all Denmarke, because his Ma­ster did him the honour to love him more particulaly then others: That he engaged himselfe to serve them as often as his credit could adde any thing to their merrit, or their Princes will; but he would not promise it but on condition they would suffer him to live at liberty. Truely replied Polexander, I understand dayly there are most eminent virtues in Phelismond, though he be of their number, with whom they have been thought (even till this day) to be incompatible. The mind [...]s of the multitude must needes be very bad, since some of them have been to wicked as to finde fault with the actions of so great a personage., It may be (said the guide) some one may have cause to complaine of the Prince; yet I intreate you to believe they are much in the wrong who make him the cause of their publick miseries. He dayly toiles to put a period to them, and when he thinkes to be at the point of relieving the people, some spirits borne for their ages affliction, alter those good designes, and inforce him whether he will or no to raise the charges and impositions, to deter the intire desolation of the Kingdome. But let it suffice, I have not in command to justifie his actions, nor condemne other mens, and see, we are at the chamber doore.

I intreate you then (said Polexander) to see what the Prince doth, and if you thinke it fitting, to tell him, that the Gentleman to whom he gave a picture boxe, is come to restore it to him. At that word, the Guide smiling, left him, and presently returning, said, that Paelismond intreated him to come in. At his first step into the chamber, divers Gen­tlemen came and saluted him, and all with a great deale of civility, led him to the Prince his bed side.

He raised himselfe halfe to embrace him, and received him with so great expressions of joy and sensibility, that Polexander had not been worthy to have lived, had [...]e not been moved with his courtesie. He began his compliments by the boxe he presented him, and often besought his pardon for the long unacquitting himselfe of what he owed him. Phelismond, embracing him againe, tooke him from the continuing those civilities, and wringing his hand, I see well (said he) that you have no better an opinion of me, then of custome men have of such who are in the same degree of fortune with me. E­very one believes, that no man can be a Favourite, but he must instantly forget himselfe. But if I might have the happinesse of seeing you often, I hope you would change your opinion, and finde, that I left not to be rationall when I came to be a Favourite. I aske your pardon for this ill discourse; but I am so much afraid to be taken for another, that by this declaration I begin my acquaintance and friendship. To this Polexander answe­red with so much freedome and gentlenesse, as if he had not beene Polexander, or the o­ther Phelismond; he felt within him an extraordinary deba [...]e, and his virtue opperating [Page] her accustomed effect, compelled him to love his Rivall, and Alcidiana's enemy. At last his passion, and that Princesses command got the upper hand. Hereupon he resolved his owne ruine, or to avenge both, and for that cause would be but a little with Phelis­mond, who did all he could possibly to stay him: But Polexander came off so gently, that without any incivility he had the liberty he wished. When he was returned to his lodging, he began to muse on his fortune, and passing and repassing through his memo­ry all P [...]elismonds endowments; I am (said he to himselfe) reduced to two extremities, far differing from one another. If I put not in execution what Alcidiana commands me, I am a coward, a traytour, and ought to thinke no more on the meanes to finde the In­accessible Island. On the other side, hath any man seene an example of brutallity e­qu [...]ll with mine, if I yield not my selfe captivated by all those generous actions where­withall P [...]elismond obligeth me to love him? But what of this? Alcidiana shall not then have satisfaction? Instead of excuting her commands, I shall become the censurer of her will, and have the impudence to accuse her of injustice when it accords not with my opinion?

No, no, she must be obeyed. Let those who know not how to love aright, reprove my ingratitude. Let them convince me of extravagancy, and take me either for some in [...]m us person, that cannot indure the lustre of extraordinary virtues, or for an exe­crable fellow, who would make himselfe immortall by some signall villany. Alcidiana is more to be feared then all these accusers. I will act what I ought; Phelismond can­not blame me for it, and whosoever is truely generous, shall (at the same instant he de­plores the misfortune of so accomplished a Prince) set downe among his first examples of Loyalty, the excesse of my blinde obedience. After this discourse with himselfe he began to thinke on the meanes of bringing his resolution to a good issue, and after a long meditating on it, came forth with Alcippus to revisit Phelismond, and met with his first Conductor, who assured him his Master was impatient till he saw him againe, and that all the afternoone he had entertained his visitants with nought but his ingenuity and cou [...]age.

Polexander, answered as he ought, and so ascended to Phelismonds Chamber. He found him up, and was received with a great deale of joy and gentlenesse, behaviors ra [...]e, in men of that condition. Long time the Prince embraced him, speaking, as he had knowne the secrets of his soule. When (said he) shall I have the happinesse to see you as really my friend as I wish it? Polexander, who could not betray his conscience, nor indiscreetly offend so generous a Prince, studied an answere that might satisfie him, and yet be no prevarication in what concerned Alcidiana: The sole cause (replied he) which deters me from receiving the honour you doe me, is a feare that when I shall be more particularly knowne to you then I am, you will be inforced to cut off a great deale from those favours you doe me.

Phelismond, at that word stopping him; assure your selfe (said he) that neither you nor all men breathing can by any action whatsoever take from me my intention and will to be entirely yours. But fearing least you may imagine that rather some other con­sideration then that of your virtue hath obliged me to woe your friendship; I asked it you, without the knowledge of what you are, not what you can doe. These courtesies of Phelismond, so distracted Polexander, that but with a great deale of trouble could he frame an answere to so many noble speeches. In the meane time, Phelismond, who had a designe to gaine him absolutely, smiled to see him at a nonplus, and thus came on againe. Be [...]ide what may, yet must I have what I intreate for. Doe you not know, that Love hath the priviledge to be resisted by nothing? See then what you intend to doe. If you be so good a husband of your friendship, as you will sell it, either it is ine­stimable, or I have that which will buy it. Or if you [...]e so liberall as to give it; I am ready to be wholly oblige [...] to you for it. Polexander confounded with these new char­g [...]s, was even desperate of ever contenting P [...]elismond, and admiring his generosity, (s [...]id to himselfe) Alcidiana was unjust in desiring the death of so perfect a Prince. At last he overcame the agitations of his minde, and resolved not to discover himselfe, but to declare to P [...]elismond the cause of his journey, and by consequence what 'twas which hindred him from accepting his friendship. See how he came off from so diffi­cult [Page] a straite, and under what tearmes he hid the truth of his life: Since (said he to Phelismond) you will have me absolutely accept the honour you doe me, or give you reason for my refusall, I will make use of the liberty you give me, and freely tell you, I cannot receive your offers, how advantagious soever they may be to me, nor yet pro­mise you my service, till I am disingaged from an affaire wherein your selfe is in some sort interrested. Of what nature soever that businesse be, (replied Phelismond) I sweare to you, if you please to doe me the favour to trust me, I will ever conforme my selfe to what shall be most agreeable to you. This protestation full of candor and affection, obliged Polexander to trifle the time no longer, but thus to goe on with his Declarati­on; I am a French man (said he) and my birth good enough for satisfaction. I have been bred up among the troubles wherein my Countrey hath laboured within these few yeeres, and fortune hath been so favourable to me, that I have had thence more then I expected. But when I adapted me to tast the fruites of my labours, she hath raised me a fearefull enemy, and would have put him in possession of all that good I promised my selfe.

Yet when she was in hand to put him the enjoying, she found her selfe too weake to performe it. That Favourite hath met with more obstacles in that he would deprive me of, then the greatnesse of his quallity could imagine. He hath seen his hopes, as well as mine, take their end when they should have had their beginning, and when I should have complained of his violence, he obliged himselfe to give me satisfaction by waies that were not honourable. Pardon me if you please (continued Polexander) if I name not my Usurper, for he is so well knowne in this Court, and you have so much cause to affect him (as I have been told) that I feare for his sake you will forget all your promises to me. Believe it not (replied Phelismond) I heere againe engage my selfe to make good what I have promised.

Since you are so generous (said Polexander) I will lay open the summe of all my bu­sinesse: My enemy unwilling to have our quarrell decided otherwhere then before the King your Master, sent that he would meet me heere to give me full satisfaction, and that at farthest I should heare of him within a Moneth. See Phelismond my fortune, the cause of my voyage, and wherefore I dare not believe you can love me. You may per­ceive by this that I am come into Denmarke to fight by the Kings permission; and to petition him that in his presence, I may force satisfaction for an injury which will not suffer me to live without its resentment. After this last overture, if you have yet remai­ning disposition to oblige me, suffer me not to have made an idle journey. My Adversa­ry is not now in case to make a joynt petition with me to the King, but he is a person so noble, that he would not for any thing faile of his word. If I therefore dare to hope ought from your goodnesse, or rather if my fantasticall designe hath made no change in your opinion, I conjure you once more by that virtue which is so habituall to you, to free me from my continuall molestation, and to imploy a part of that power you have with the King in getting me his permission for a combate. Phelismond, observing in all Polexanders discourse the mildnesse, and well temperature of his speech, answered him thus; I will make you see how much I value this your greatnesse of courage, which no lesse apeares in your resentment, then in all the rest of your actions; I therefore promise to serve you at what hazard soever, and either to lose all my reputation, or give you that content which you hope for by your combate. But (if you please) it shall be on condition, that you finding nothing in this which may hinder your being my friend, you will grant me that which I have often sued for. When Polexander saw his busi­nesse goe on beyond expectation: I should (said he) be unworthy of the honour you doe me, did I not confesse that my desire to be your servant is equivalent with that of overcomming my enemy.

Notwithstanding, since it is very likely you would not treate a friend to lose him pre­sently; let, (if you please) our inclinations rest in suspence, till the day which may by chance finish them, and besides thereto adde so much as may last us the rest of our lives. There must (replied Phelismond) needs be some hidden mystery in your reservednesse in a businesse which seemes to me so just, but I content my selfe with what you thinke fit; and will have so much command on my selfe, as to regulate my will by yours. In the [Page] meane time I assure you that even to morrow the King shall know what he ought of your businesse, and that I may serve you effectually: I will take my time for it, when he pleaseth to doe me the honour to have me retired with him to treate of matters which concerne his service. How infinite is your noblenesse (replied Polexander) and how much more ought I to acknowledge what you have done for me, and otherwise then I have yet performed! Doe not speake so (said Phelismond) the respect I beare you is sufficient to make me performe impossibilities, and (if need were) to proclaime me an enemy to my selfe.

O valour! (cried Polexander, interrupting him) before whom all other things have nought but of what is base; why should a cruell and powerfull necessity bereave me of the meanes of acting what I ough [...]? After this stirring, which in truth was not sea­sonable, Polexander recalled himselfe, and besought Phelismond not to acquaint the King to hastily with his businesse, since he was certaine his enemy could not be in case to answere him for a moneth. He fained this excuse to give Phelismond the more time for his strength. The Prince paused a while before he answered him, at last he tooke him by the hand, and wringing it as if he knew his designe; I will doe whatever you please (said he) and till you command me, I will speake nothing of your affaire. Till that happy houre be (replied Polexander) with your leave I will take a view of this great Kingdome, and satisfie my curiosity with the infinite number of rarities where­withall your Seas and Islands are replenished. I could wish (replied Phelismond, you had no such intention, and would trie to make you spend the time with more ease and plea­sure; but since you desire to travell, I will not deprive you of that contentment, but on the contrary give you a guide, for whose fidelity I will be answerable both for your person, and the successe of your voyage. Polexander thanked him for that new fa­vour, and the next day having made himselfe ready for his journey, tooke his leave of the Favourite. I should transgresse the liberty I allowed my selfe, if I related all the ho­nour they gave our King, and his worthy intertainments in all Townes where he came. Tis enough to say he saw many strange things, and particularly all those varieties where withall nature pleaseth to disport her in that end of the world. After his being neere three moneths at sea, he landed againe at Copenhagen; where he found the Court, and was welcomed by Phelismond with such embraces and excessive favours, that he was a hundred times about to confine himselfe to some corner of Norway, to leave him the liberty of serving Alcidiana. But what cannot a true love doe? The re­membrance of the most accomplished Princesse of the worlds beauty, soone made him alter his resolution.

The very next day he betooke himselfe in earnest to his businesse, and to stick constant to the execution of Alcidiana's commands, stopped his eare to all that reason, and de­voyre could perswade him. He went to Phelismond at his arising, and assured him of his enemies arrivall, besought him to perfect his affaire. Phelismond promised he would, and that very day obtained all he desired. Presently he advertised our King of it, and demanded if there were any thing else to be done? Yes my Lord (replied Po­lexander) tis not enough that we have leave to fight, but that we have the time and place assigned us.

Phel [...]smond assured him how that very evening he would try to get the Kings consent it might be in his presence, and in the great place of Copenhagen. For the day (said he) tis fit wee leave him the liberty of appointing it you at his pleasure. Yet this one thing I will promise you, that you shall not be long in expectation. Herewith Polexan­der left the Favourite to take order about his affaire, and returned to him againe to­wards his bed time to know the Kings pleasure. He was told that the King put off the combate to the last day of the moneth, and that tearme is very short, for tis the day af­ [...]er to morrow. See, at last you have your desire; but believe me, that with griefe e­nough I have served you in this occasion; but since 'twas your will, I thought on no­thing out your contentment. Polexander thanked him for the continuance of his fa­vour, and besought him to believe that nothing grieved him, but his being constrained [...]o engage the Favourite in his follies. As soone as he was retired to his lodging, he sent amongst all the Armorers of Copenhagen, for the choice of the best armes. He [Page] had two of the best horses in Denmarke, and was troubled at nothing, but how he might become the Conqueror, and yet not afflict or disgrace Phelismond. At last the the day for the combate being come, Polexander went very early to Phelismond, and finding him ready, [...]treated him to make a turne in the Garden. Phelismond agreed, and imagining Polexander requested it not without some designe, commanded none should follow him. When he was descended into a walke of Pines, Yewes, and Cy­pres, he stopped, and intreated Polexander to speake freely to him. Our Heroë kept constant, and making no shew of any emotion or tartnesse, thus bespoake him: The first thing I have to say to you Phelismond is, that I am extraordinarily in love, and with the fairest Princesse of the world.

After this Declaration, I doe not only believe you already have excused me for all past faults committed in your presence; but that you will like wise approve of all my offences hereafter. I would not promise my selfe this grace from you, if you had ne­ver loved; but when I call to minde the power Thamiris hath over you, I finde where­withall to justifie the most remarkable crimes which love can possibly make me perpe­trate. Is it not true Phelismond, that Thamiris beauty, and admired graces are by you held in that esteeme, that there is no man living, nay I say even the King your Master, whose enemy you would not declare your selfe, had he an intention to rob you of them? Heere he stopped, and did it of purpose to give Phelismond time to answere. Though I see not well whereto you tend (said that Prince) yet I freely confesse to you, I am of your opinio [...], and I love with so much fervency, that I would ( [...]f 'twere possi­ble for me) set all Europe in a conflagration, rather then to make a cessiō of whom I serve to the greatest of Kings, or dearest of all my friends. I have well perceived (said Po­lexander) your love to Thamiris is very violent, and tis by that example, which I would prepare you to judge favourably of such things as love commands me to put in execution. I will make knowne to you heere on what tearmes I am with Thamiris, nor what the cause is which makes me so much affect her. It shall suffice me, that you know, I love in so high a place, that all the virtues and beauties of the world have con­spired together to compose the object of my love: Let the Reader imagine whether Polexander were sensible of these words or no, whether the jealousie they imprinted, were not power [...]ull enough to make him forget all his Rivalls courtesies. He could not indure he should goe further, and had not reason assisted him, 'twas to be feared, that conversation had not ended as it began.

Polexander suppressed his first agitation, and returning into cold blood, thus went on againe. Ther's no more time left to conceale my selfe, and [...]ide from you a businesse which you must necessarily know. I am Polexander, the servant of Alcidiana, and Phelismond is the enemy, I come (by her command) to seeke in Denmarke. After this short Declaration, he related to him at large the humours of that proud Queene, and told him word by word the tearmes she made use of, when she let him understand by one of her sl [...]ves, her aversion to his su [...]te and himselfe. As soone as he had begun this discourse, Phelismond lo [...]t both his colour and countenance, and looked on Polexan­der, as if he had been no more the man, to whom he had vowed so much amity. At last comming to himselfe, he very distinctly spoake thus to the King; I shall never be ca­papable of contradicting Alcidiana's commands. Since you come from her, I am rea­dy to bring you into the field to him, whom so great a Princesse holds to be so uncivill and barbarous.

Come Sir, you that are happy in all things, let us hasten her revenge, and satisfie her justice by the death of this Northerne Monster. This new proofe of Phelismonds ge­nerousnesse, so cooled Polexanders blood, that it neither left him the power, nor the desire to doe what he had so often resolved. Neverthelesse after he had a long time contested with himselfe, it seemed to him that Alcidiana upbraided him with his thoughts of pity, and accused him of private correspondence with her enemy. This made him give Phelismond this answer. If our Princesse could be won by merit, or ra­ther if the distance of places, had not been so ex [...]reamely disadvantagious to you, I doubt not, but being one of the prime Princes of the world, you might have prevailed as much ore the affection of that faire Queene, as you have done ore the mindes of all [Page] the North. Questionlesse I should be that Barbarian, which she hath a will to destroy, and you had received (in my place) the command which I am resolved to put in exe­cution. But let us not amuse our selves (if you please) in condemning the disorder we finde in our adventures; but since that great Princesse will is the sole Law we ought to keepe; let us on where her absolute power calls us. Can I take armes (replied Phe­lismond) without adding rebellion to rashnesse? No, there is nothing left for me to doe but to dye. Too sweete a tongue hath pronounced my sentence of death that I should desire life.

P [...]lexander strove to bring him from this extasie, and perceiving how insupporta­ble Alcidiana's disestimation was to him, he repented his naming the tearmes of Mon­ster, and barbarous. After Phelismond had mu [...]ed a while, in fixing his eyes on the earth, he at last cast them on Pole [...]ander, and told him he would go to the King, to dis­pose so well of all things, that Alcidiana should have cause to hold her selfe sa [...]isfied, and after he had thus spoke he imbraced him, and besought him to doe nothing till he came back from the Pallace. Polexander promised to obey his command, and accom­panied him to his chamber, where they discoursed a while of ind [...]fferent things, but as soone as he was adver [...]sed of the Kings being awake, he left Polexander in the com­pany of five or six of his particular f [...]iends. H [...] stated above two houres with the King, and when he saw him ready to goe to the place of the combate, he returned to Polex­ander, and told him, he had n [...]w nothing to feare, and how he had obtained all that was fitting for his safety. Polexander tha [...]ked his for all his fav [...]s, and said aloud, he thought himselfe the most unfortunate man of the world, in putting him to so many troubles. Hereupon he tooke his leave, because twas late, and returned to his lodging to put things in order. After he had beene there an houre, there came a Gentleman from Phelismond to intreat him to come and arme himselfe in his lodgings, where he should meet with five or six Lords whom the King had sent to conduct him to the field. Polexander went to him, and after more then an houres being with the Prince, caused himselfe to be armed.

The King sent to tell Phelismond he was risen from table, wherupon Polexander, and his conductors got to horse, and came to the Justing place. The Windowes, the Terras [...]s, and the Scaffolds were filled with men and women of the Court and the Ci­ty, and the Kings guard stood about the railes. he had not beene long there, when Phelismond recompanied with five or six of his friends rid round about the field, and then placed himselfe right against his Rivall. As soone as the King was at the window of his pavillion, the Judges of the field sent to search the Combatants, and dividing the Sun betwixt them, set them one opposite to the other. Presently the trumpers [...]ounded, and the word of letting goe together, the good Knight was given by the Danes King at Armes. Phelismond came on with his lance in his rest as if he would have [...] Polex­ander through and through. Yet he made his intention appeare to be cleane contrary. For Polexander, he had resolved to over come him w [...]thout lance or sword. When they were in the midst of their careere they lifted up their speares, and so passed without touching one another.

All the Assembly gave a great sh [...]ute, and seemed to aske the reason of this novelty. In the m [...]ne time the two Rivalls ran the sec [...]d [...]ime, and d [...] as a [...] first. Indeed their horses (who were ignorant of their intentions) i [...]countred so furi [...]usly, tha [...] P [...]lexan­ders failed but little of being overthrowne. The other's was fo [...]ced back to the earth on his crupper, and so broke his harnesse, that Phelism [...] fell [...]n tge ground. This disorder put him into choler, and made him change his resolution. When they had brought him another horse and that he was in c [...]se to fight, he told P [...]lexander, that it was not [...]me to pacifie Alcidiana, and satisfie the spectators expectation. I am glad (said Polexander) to heare you of that m [...]de. Let us on then (in good time) to alter the opinion which our first courses have given all the Assembly. With that they with­drew from one another, and when they were at the end of the list, they turned head, and expected when the Judges would command the trumpets to make them start. As soone as they heard the signall, they ran against one another with an impetuosity, that made all the Spectators thinke their complements had now given place to their re­sentments. [Page] At their incounter, the lances flew in shivers. When that was done with­out advantage on either part, they tooke new speares, and met with more vigour then in the preceding course. They broke their speares to their very gantlets, and held on with so much equallity to the eight course, that the people ravished with thei [...] mighty brants, could not make shew of their astonishment, but by their silence. The King [...]f Denmarke, and his Courtiers (who for the most part are excellent Tilters) confessed, they had never seen better performance, and asked one another, who that Knight might be, which had so [...]ong time resisted him, that Phelismond by his relation made them conjecture to be the most valiant of the times. Whilst all were in these thoughts, the two Rivalls came on their eight course, but it had an event far differing from the other.

Polexanders victorions destiny unhor [...]ed Phelismond. As soone as he was on ground, Polexander alighted, and putting not his hand to h [...]s sword till he had seen Phelismond doe so, came towards him, but would not give the first blow. Phelismond tooke no heed to that complement; but made [...] feele the weight of his arme, who streight imitated him, and pressed him very neere. If these two Rivalls had made shew in their courses of their dexterity and strength, they declared their const [...]t foot fight, that their courage and vigour surpassed the beliefe even of those who saw the proofes of them. In a thousand places were their armes slashed and broaken, and their b [...]ood which distained all the dust, had already converted into horrour and comp [...]ssion the admiration of all the Spect [...]tors. This combate continued from one of the clock till seaven at evening. At last the Danish Prince staggered and fell through weakenesse. When he perceived himselfe unable to rise he presented his sword to Polexander, and uttring his words with a great deale of paine, I confesse (said he) [...] is just, and only you of all the world d [...]serve to serve her. Returne then to [...] ( [...]appy Polexan­der) and assure her, that death was welcome to me, since I knew it was the sole meanes to content her. But stay no longer here, rather g [...] [...] of this Kingdome the soonest you may, you shall not be pursued whilst I am [...]eere. Pol [...]xander came neare to his generous [...]my to comfort him, and to aske his pardon [...]r w [...]t had passed; but as he was stooping, both his sight and understanding failing him, he f [...]ll [...]s dead some three paces from P [...]elismond,

The King of Denmarke pitted to see two so valiant men in that estate, and said to those who were about him, he repented of what he had granted [...]o Paelismond, with­all sent to see where he was, and thinking he was one o [...] P [...]lexanders Conductors, caused him to [...] for among that Troope, but they were [...]re enough from fin­ding [...]im th [...]re. W [...] [...]ey brought the Ki [...]g word of his not [...]ing there, he comman­ded some Officers of [...]is guard to inq [...]ire what was [...]come o [...] hi [...]. They went to all the hou [...] [...] [...]ked in [...]o [...]he p [...]ace, then into [...], and l [...]ft no place unsear­ched [...]o [...] [...]m, [...]t [...] in [...]. At l [...]st they re [...]ned to t [...]e King and assured him that no man c [...]uld tell [...]m what was [...]ecome of Phelismond. How's this said he? Phelismond was n [...]t [...]ont to forget himselfe in things that concerne me. The night comes, and let it as fast as 'twill; yet should I stay he [...] [...] [...]omorrow, I will keepe my word.

After he had thus s [...]d, he commanded torches to be lighted, and as soone as those of his pavillion were▪ presently all the windows throughout the place were full o [...] [...], Amidst the new pay which t [...]e infinite number o [...] [...]ches m [...]de, the Spectat [...] began to clap their hands, and were abov [...] two houres shewing [...], [...] by their silence, and then by their shoutes. The King [...] to [...] we [...] [...] [...] ­ing Phelismond, when from among the [...] suddaine all those which had been even [...] [...] ­ly there was s [...]ene to enter the field twe [...]ty o [...] [...] men, [...] in his hand: Behinde which Troope [...] foure others, and seemed to be extraordinarily [...] where Phelismond and [...] say [...] out as dead; [...] [...]er own h [...]s she tooke off the Favourites helmet, and commanded on [...] [...]f her [...] much to Polexander. He was free from his [...]ing, w [...]en [...] Lady came, and [...] ­ner [Page] felt the aire but he came to himselfe, So could not Phelismond, for he had lost al­most all his blood, and was in so ill a case that they believed him dead. No body was seene so much grieved as the Lady, who so happily arrived; long wept she, and at last, said, it was not fit the death of so generous a Prince should be left unpunished. Af­ter she had much vexed her selfe, she came to Polexander, and gazing on him as if she knew him, she called one of her women, and giving her a paper; goe (said she) shew this to the King, and tell him that Phelismond hath deceived him. The Damsell went, and was presently with the King. In the meane time the noise which was begun by the vailed Ladies arrivall, increased with clapping of hands, and unusuall clamours. During this tumult, the King came into this place, and drew to Phelismond. Polexan­der was risen before he came, and as soone as he saw the King, stood still (as well as his weakenesse could suffer him) and perceived he was no lesse afflicted then angry. He cast himselfe on the body of his Favourite, wept long, and on a suddaine rising up in a rage: He shall dye for it (said he) that miscreant, who came to murther me in the person of Phelismond.

In saying so, he turned him to Polexander, and full of rage, thou shalt not have the honour, said he, to perish by so glorious a hand as that of Phelismond, and when he had thus threatned, he looked on the Captaine of his Guard, and commanded him to lay hold of Polexander, but before he had time to execute his charge, Polexander came to the King, presented him his sword, and in offring it spoke thus: I know what respect is due to Kings. Since your very Subjects protract time in obeying you, so much feare have they lest you should be accused of perjury. I will act what they dare not. Take here (if you please) this sword, the cause of your displeasure, and assure your selfe, that your just griefe shall advise you to nothing which I will not undergoe without a mur­mure.

These words surprised the King, and cooled his choler. Yet his love not permit­ting him to make use of his judgement; you imagine (said he) that your courage can finde nothing, which it cannot overcome; but since you have contemned my friend­ship, I will make you see what my power is. Polexander could not answere him, for he had lost so much blood since he got up, that all his strength failing him againe, he fell so, as the King was faine to prop him, or he had run the hazard to have fallen with him. He therefore commanded five or six of his guard to take and carry him into the great Tower of the City, which was instantly performed whilst he was in his swound. The King of Denmarke freed from the object of his choler, cast his eyes on his deare Phelismond; While he thought of nothing but to have him carried away. Alcippus and Diceus rushing out of the croude, where they concealed themselves, came and fell at his feet, and besought his eare. What are you, said the King? We are (replied Al­cippus) servants to that Prince whom you treate not conformably to the Covenant, whereby you permitted him the combate.

But in the name of Heaven Sir, hearken to reason how just soever your resentment be, and call to minde what you have sworne! The keeping of your word ought to be no lesse deare to you then the preserving your Authority. But if you thinke you have no cause on this occasion to stick to it, reflect on the greatnesse of your prisoner, and decree nothing against him: till you have well pondered who Polexander is. I know what I have to doe, answered the King. In the meane time, I command you to get out of my Court within these foure and twenty houres, if you will not run the fortune of a man who within these two dayes was but a meane Gentleman, and now forsooth must be taken for one of the prime P [...]inces of the world. But I sweare to make of him an example, and at once give condigne punishment for the imposture, and the murder. Alas! Sir (replied Alcippus) I beseech you humbly not to suffer your selfe to be trans­ported by your indignation. Your Majesty shall pardon me if you please, should I say you would lose the respect I owe you. The King justly offended at Alcippus indiscreet zeale, grew more in rage then ever, and commanded him with Diceus to be carryed to prison. Both of them thanked him for that favour, and (uncompelled) went whither they would lead them. They were shut up in the same Tower where their Master was, and presently after they sent him Physitians and Chyrurgions to see his woundes, which [Page] they found to be great and dangerous. But Diceus was not of their opinion, and desi­red he might dresse his Master. Those good people that were no more cunning then they should be, thought this request was not to be denied, and therefore gave way he should looke to him, which he did, and neglected nothing that might prevent those accidents which cause woundes to become mortall. In the meane time the King of Denmarke was much troubled for Phelismond. He had commanded six of his Gentle­men to take and carry him, and not only went with him to the Pallace, but had him laid in his owne bed, where he was visited by all the Court Physitions, and looked too for all things necessary, as Heire to the Crowne.

Neverthelesse, for all they could doe to his hurts, they were so dangerous that till day breake, all thought them incurable. His Master went not to bed that night, and swore, if Phelismond died, he would instantly command Polexanders head to be stroake from his shoulders. After 'twas day Phelismond grew sensible, and (as soone as he could open his mouth) [...]asked where his King was, and what was become of his ene­my. The King kissed him often, and shedding teares for joy to heate him speake, my Phelismond (said he) take heart, and aske after nothing but thy cure. He for whom thou inquirest is where he wants nothing, since I saw by the letter thou writtest to Tha­miris, thy desire he should be treated as thy selfe. Ten or twelve dayes slid away, du­ring which time, the two Rivalls woundes, threw forth part of their fire, and cast them into such violent Fevers, that their youth was the best preserver of their lives. Phe­lismond now grew to be out of danger as well as Polexander, when he called to minde he was not to faile of his word given him. That consideration moved him to supplicate the King his Master, he would be pleased he might be carried to the place where Po­lexander was: Phelismond (replied the King) whilst the greatnesse of your woundes, made me feare what would become of you, I dissembled my resentment, and would not thinke of your offending me; but now you are out of danger, I will tell you my minde, and command you, as I am your Master and Father, to invent no pretext for having any cause to contradict me. I have so much affected you Phelismond, that in my life time I would have setled the Crowne of Denmarke on your head. This extra­ordinary token of my love, should intimate how deare your safety is to me, and indeed it is so much, that there is nothing which I would not doe to give you all the satisfacti­on you can desire. Yet there is one thing I receive to my selfe, and for which I will neither lend lend eare to my affection, nor your intreaties. 'Tis the life of that stran­ger, who without doubt hath bewitched you, since you love him even after he hath de­clared himselfe your enemy, and without regarding so many generosities which should perswade him, hath done what in him lay to deprive you of your life. Phelismond the most noble of men, answered so advantagiously for his Rivall, that his Master imposed him silence.

I will hold my peace, Sir, (replied he) since your Majesty commands me; but I must submi [...]ly beseech you to believe that my life is inseparably knit with that of the King of the Canaries, and had rather dye, then be the cause so great a King as you should not fullfill what he hath promised. Verily Phelism [...]nd, replied the King, tis too much, anger me no more, and call to minde that my crowne and amity deserve your care of pleasing me. Phelismond would no longer exasperate his Master; but put off further discourse of that businesse till another time. Polexander was this while in prison very well treated, and served with as much care as if he had beene even in the Island of Alcidiana.

Besides, Phelismond who was not able to be wearied with shewing his generous­nesse towards him, sollicited his deliverance, but his Master grew obstinate in refusall. One day, when the Favourite had but two or three woundes yet open, he would needs try his last indeavour, and utmost power, to see whether his Kings minde might be changed, and to that end made to him a long and well laboured Oration, desirous to remonstrate by all waies of reason, as well of State, as of what was seemely and be­hoofull, that he ought very honorably to send home Polexander. The King answered according to his custome, and Phelismond replied according to his owne, so that at last they grew both so hot, that they were long time in contestation. But when the King [Page] saw his reasons were too obstinately disputed and opposed by those of Phelismond, he arose all in choler, and being unable to containe himselfe any longer: Content your selfe (said he to him) that you have displeased me, and never speake to me more of a man who shall feele how heavy that Kings arme is, who will not be wronged without a just punishment. Phelismond then growing calmer, and more humble, as his Master waxt hotter: Sir (said he) tis most just, you be obeyed, and most of all that I receive an infliction for my losse of respect; I therefore here vow never to supplicate for ought that may displease you. This humility of Phelismonds met with the King so much transported from himselfe, that it won nothing of him. He walked with hasty strides in the chamber, without turning his eyes towards Phelismond, and on the sud­daine thrusting open a window which looked into the Pallace great garden, he lea­ned there about a quarter of an houre, musing and disgesting his choler. Longer had he beene there, but for the shriecks which on the suddaine were heard behind him. He turned his head, and saw that Phelismond servants and Chyrurgions were round a­bout his bed, and held him for dead.

He ran thither, and found that poore Prince in the most pitifull posture could be i­magined. He was fallen in a swound, or to say better, as it were drowned in his own blood. His woundes were all open and the bloud which came not out but drop by drop, was a certaine signe there was not much more behinde in his veines. His body was halfe out of the bed, and his armes and head almost touched the floore. They jud­ged he had done himselfe that violence, because he held yet one of his swathes which because it was knit about his arme, fell not with the rest. The King yet tooke no heed to it, for he was so transported, that he could not utter a word. When the first astonish­ment was over, he commanded the Chyrurgions to use all their art for Phelismonds safety, who poore Prince lay all that day without any signe of life. The King in the meane time was extreamely afflicted, and asked every one the cause of this new disa­ster, but no body could satisfie him. The Chyrurgions, and servants told him, that com­ming into the Chamber to dresse Phelismond, they found him in that deplorable manner. The King began to weigh what might cause this affliction, and could attribute it to no­thing but his owne generousnesse.

I will (said he then) save Phelismond, though I never receive satisfaction, nor con­tentment. After these words, he set himselfe at his beds head, and stirred not thence till he heard him sign, and thereby gave hope he had some life in him. Halfe of the night was spent ere the King retired, and yet slept not, but sent hourely to know in what estate Phelismond was. He was at the extremity the first three daies, nor was he much better the foure following, and so lay betwixt life and death till the seaventh. As soone as he began to speake ought at all, the King asked him the cause of his vio­lence on himselfe. 'Twas the feare of displeasing you (said he) and if your Majesty think it not fit that I importune you againe, tis in vaine for you to endeavour the saving my life. He so often repeated the same discourse, that he made it appeare he was ear­nestly resolved to dye or to free Polexander. And the King howsoever, fearing to lose so incomparable a Successor, resolved absolutely to give him that satisfaction, without which he saw there was no meanes of curing him. He came then in person to visit Po­lexander, and could with much dexterity colour his rashnesse, that our Heroë confessed he deserved to be far worse dealt withall then he was. The King imbracing, and cal­ling him his Sonne, said a hundred times that he rep [...]ted of what had passed; but that the circumspection of his authority, and the ordinary mutining of his Subjects permit­ted him not to doe otherwise. That he was not ignorant how far the promises of Kings should be inviolable, and principally when they were made to Princes. But that he knew withall, that the Law of Nations gave no security, nor exempted from any ri­gour in strange Countries, the greatest Princes of the Universe, when they came thi­ther concealed, and would not be esteemed for what they were. This being so (said he) you will grant with me we are both equally in fault. You for not making knowne your quallity, and I for being too quick with you. After Polexander had heard him speake so judiciously, he replied, 'twas he alone that was in fault, and therefore asked his pardon, and humbly besought him to believe, that had he not been compelled by a [Page] necessity more urgent then all kindes of considerations to fight against Phelismond, he had not so slightly come to disturbe the Court of so great a King: The Prince replied, he would not dive into his secrets, nor engage him to discover them: But (said he) we trifle too long, let us goe visit Phelismond, and get him from that passion wherein he lies, and render to him that quietnesse he enjoyed at the very time he knew you were a prisoner.

With this he tooke Polexander by the hand, and lead him to the Pallace. Alcippus and Diceus went out with him. When the King of Denmarke was returned to his Court, he retooke Polexander, and leading him to Phelismonds bed side; see heere (said he to him) your friend, whom I have (my selfe) been to fetch to you. I will not relate to you the apparant alteration Polexanders presence wrought in the incompara­ble Phelismond. He wept for joy, and found not words enough to expresse his expor­tation. His Rivall he called the second cause of his life and his honour, acknowled­ged by an excesse of humility that all the honour of the combate was due to him, asked his pardon for his ill treating since, and assured him, his King had been forced by very great reasons to cause him to be staied. Whilst Phelismond was thus talking to him, the King made divers turnes in the chamber, and after he had long mused, he came to Phe­lismond, and asked if there were any thing else to be done to content him. Phelis­mond tooke hold of his hands, and transported with joy, raised himselfe halfe way up in his bed to thanke him.

Phelismond (said the King) take heed your joy bring you not into the same case your griefe had reduced you. That which is to be done by you and your friend, is to consider how you will live your selves hereafter. For my part, I promise you both that I will follow your intentions, and in all you desire there shall neither be found difficulty, nor delay. The two Rivalls thanked him with an equall resentment, and Polexander for his particular intreated him to be pleased he might speedily returne to the Canaries. The King replied, he was at his owne liberty to doe what he pleased, and when he had a minde to depart he would furnish him with men and shipping. Sir (said Polexander) since your Majesty will so much favour me, I beseech you humbly to doe it intirely. I came into Denmarke with a Gentleman and a servant, and I desire (if it please you) to returne so.

You shall doe as you list, replied the King, and finde in Denmarke as many friends, and as much observance as in your owne Territories. These complements ended, Po­lexander resolved to be gone as soone as he could, to the end he might returne againe to his wonted and unprofitable inquiry. Phelismond shewed an extremity of griefe to see him so neere leaving him, and did all he could possibly not only to retaine him, but to perswade him that his Master bore him a great deale of affection. Phelismond (said Polexander) I will not contradict those reasons, whereby the King your Master may justifie his act, nor I assure you will I ever complaine of it. For your selfe, believe it, you never have had a servant or a friend, whose love hath been more true then mine. Al­cidiana shall know (if I can possibly) your value, and her aversion cannot be of that force but it may be surmounted by the infinite number of your virtues, when they shall once be made knowne to her.

When Phelismond heard his Rivall speake thus, he raised himselfe to imbrace him, and when he was as it were glued to him, made this answere. I know what I owe you, and am not so much an enemy to true honour, to fancy to my selfe I can pertake with you of any in our combate. It is intirely due to you Polexander. Go then and gather the fruits of it, and (if you please) assure Alcidiana, that the fortune of armes having confirmed the sentence of death she hath pronounced against me, I will not faile to execute it my selfe. If I toke time to doe this execution, tis for no other cause but to serve her in that person, which of all the world should be most deare unto her, and to undergoe the longer time the pennance for my offence committed, in daring to adore her without being first worthy. Phelismond (replied Polexander) if the greatnesse of your courage, were not knowne to me as it is, I should hardly suffer a discourse that wrongs the wonderfull actions of your life. Live happily, and doe not so great an in­jury to our great Princesse judgement, as not to expect from it a recompence proporti­onable [Page] to your deserts. Hitherto you have not beene so well treated only because you were not knowne. But when Alcidiana shall understand what Phelismond is, and heare it even from the mouthes of such whom she cannot suspect, assure your selfe she will change her opinion. Grant me then the request I am to make you before your seperati­on, and tis that you intend you recovery, and be not transported to any dispaire, till you have received a new command from Alcidiana; it you doe otherwise, I denounce on her behalfe, you shall not only offend her virtue, but demonstrated by your owne disobedience you never truely loved her. To how many new Tortures (answered Phe­lismond) doth your request ingage me? But I refuse nothing (said he) raising his voice, since tis for the honour of Alcidiana, and the increase of her renowne. Yes, you most generous man on earth, I will punctually observe what you p [...]escribe me. Yet (if you please) it shall be on condition that I may enjoy your company yet for three dayes. Po­lexander granted it, and unable to be wearied in the admiration of his valour, continu­ed with him the time he desired: During which, they almost spoke of noth [...]ng but the virtue and beauty of Alcidiana, of the impossibillity of getting to her Island, and the number of Lovers her pictures had acquired her in all parts of the world. This inter­taining had not ceased, but that by the King of Denmarkes presence it was often inter­rupted.

At last the three dayes being expired, the businesse was of taking of leave. Phelis­mond, though ex [...]reamely weake, went out of his chamber to doe his Rivall the more honour, and wished a happy succe [...]e as well to his love as in his voyage. The King came betwixt this Farwell, and shewing a great deale of griefe for the departure of his second P [...]elismond (for so he called Polexander) promised to preserve preciously in his memory the voyage he had made into Denmarke, but principally, because of his happy successe. This said, the three P [...]inces made mutuall promises, and reciprocall presents, and the two Danes accompanied the Canarian to his ship. The Pilot unwil­ling to lose a North winde that was so good for him, left the Coast of Zeland, and in a little time got into the Germane Sea.

THE ADVENTURES OF IPHIDAMANTUS.

AS soon as the Vice-roy of Argiers had intimated to me the prosperity of Peri­anders worthy successor, I got to sea again, and with the most diligence I could sail­ed along the coastes of Barbary: I was like to have been lost in the straights of Gibral­tar, and but for the extraordinary skill of my pilot, my ship had been split in peeces against the point of an Island in the midst of the straight. At last I got into the open sea, but 'twas to be beaten with new tempests. The second day that I was got into the Ocean, my mariners, who had never sailed but on the Mediterianean sea, were intertained by a winde they knew not, and against which by consequence they could not defend themselves. The billowes went so high, that for three daies we were every foot carried from heaven to hell, and from hell to heaven. At last the winde threw us on the coastes of Morocco. 'Twas there, that the storm redoubling, and that the elements having made a particular combination to punish my offences, turned topsy turvy (if I may say so) the first order of nature, reconciled contrarities which should be everlasting; found nourishment for flames in the water; composed two rights of what should be one day, and made both the land and the sea equally dismall unto us. Ma­ny leagues on this side Morocco there is seen a rock, on which is built a Castle which they call Guargetsem: the tempest bore me right against it. Twice did my ship strike a­gainst this fearfull rock, and by the impetuosity of the shock, not only opened it in the mid'st, but was thrust off farre into the sea, that of all those aboard, there was not one who saw not his certain death before him. Every one therefore got hold of what he could, to hinder their sinking with the vessell, but the storme made all their forecast bootlesse, for the justling of the waves, which confounded themselves one within a­nother, swallowed up all my mariners and souldiers, with that which they had gotten to save themselves. I only (who without doubt had not suffered enough for my many offen­ces) was frustrated of that quiet which my companions found in the armes of death. Having therefore (without faining) no intent to preserve my miserable life, I was thrown by a wave into a Cavern which time and the surges had digged under the rock of Guargetsem. When the sea is very high, or that there is a violent storme, as there was then, the water enters into the bottom of that Cave, and throwes in what it brings with it; but when the waves retire, or that it is calme, the place is dry; and hath some resem­blance with those grottes which Art hath invented for the imbellishing of Gardens. For an hour or two I was but ill at ease within that cave, for I was upto the neck in wa­ter, and knew not where to place my selfe better. At last the sea went out, and then I found I was out of danger. The Sun which inclined towards the West, and was then ve­ry near to the Tropick of Cancer, suddainly striking through the thicknesse of those cloudes which had been so fatall unto us, enlightened the most obscure corners of my retreat. I set me at the mouth of it, to injoy the suns heat and dry my clothing. A­bout an houre after I had been there, I perceived some fishermen: who questionlesse [Page 22] were got out in their boates to gather the remaines of our shipwrack. I will not tell you that surely chance was the Author of the good fortune befell me at that instant, but will let you know, how those fishermen being desirous to get a chest which floted on the waves, and which I knew to be the same wherein my servants put my best habili­ments) drove right to my Cavern. As they were about to take it in, I cried to them for helpe; and my voice on a suddan comming out of that cave, so affrighted them that they left the chest, and betooke them to their oares. I besought them to take me in, and told them, the chest which they were about being mine, I would freely give it them, if they would bee so charitable as to carry me to the next shore, and tell me on what part of Africk I was shipwracked. My habit and language make­ing me passe for a Musulman, the fishers believed, that Mahomet had sent them thither to exercise the hospitality which he so strictly recommended to them. They therefore tooke me into one of their boates, set my chest by me, not permitting me to open it for their reward; and betaking them to their oares, brought me to a little-port, which is as the entry of a Suburb by which they ascended to the fortresse of Guargetsem: There the fishers dwelt, and they received me into their Cottages built of clay and straw, with a great deale of humanity; and carried my chest into a place under ground, whereof they gave me the key. I refused it, and to obliege them to the continuation of their affection, tooke out of my chest some chaines of gold, and rings, which I distri­buted amongst them: They grew ravished at the richnesse of my presents, and judged by them that I was a person of great quality. I thought it not amisse to keepe them in that opinion; and to that end, I went presently to put off my spoyled sea weeds, and take on others of cloth of gold, enriched with buttens of rubies. When I had fitly clad my selfe with the richest cloathes I had, I came in to my fishermen, and astonished them farre more by this second sight, then he had done at first. They lifted up their hands; they whispered together, came and peered me in the face, handled my cloathes, my belt and Cymiter, and asked me often whether I were an Angell, or a man. When all their wonder was over, they told me in what place I was, and assured me, their King would already have sent to entertaine me according to my desert, had he been advertised of my arrivall. I asked them where he was; and after they had by their answer informed me he was come a few dayes besore into the fortresse of Guargetsem, I thought there was no better course for me, then to make my selfe knowne to that Prince. I there­fore sent one of those fishers to the Castle, and expresly charged him to relate truly how I was shipwracked. He went up, and presently came back againe with Moores. The first that saw me, blinded with the lustre of my Jewels, or surprised with seeing me, stopped on the suddaine, and turning to his companions; Ennoramita (said he to them) Ennoramita. The rest gaz'd on me, and all with one voice cried out, that I was Ennora­mita. Straight they cast themselves at my feet, kissed my hands, called me their Prin­cesse, and entreated me to go to their King. They drew me out of my cottage, and causing all the mountaine to ring againe with the name of Ennoramita, carried me whe­ther I would or no up to the fortresse. Some of them being run before, to advertise Hely of my arrivall, so ravished him with the newes of it, that forcing his weake legs to uphold him, maugre their feeblenesse, he came to meet me, welcomed me with a great many pleasant huggings, repeated a hundred times over the name of Ennoramita, would even adore me, and gave me the title of a Goddesse, and sometimes that of an Angel. He entreated me straight to tell him how I escaped out of the hands of the cruell Nephizus, brought me into a chamber, the best furnished I ever saw next to those of Zelmatida, and Bajazet; and entreating me to take my bath, withdrew, with a great deale of respect. Presently came in diverse white Eunuchs, and seven or eight black. The last fetched all that was necessary for my chamber; and the women having brought me into a great withdrawing roome, shut the doore on us all. If I were wonder-strooke at what I had seene and heard, I was farre more when I saw my picture (done like a wo­man) hanging under a cloth of Estate, made of cloth of gold. I asked those who would have undressed me whether I would or no; for whom that picture was made. They an­swered me all at once, twas for the Princesse Iphidamanta. At that word I was like to have falne downe, and certainely believed I was got into the house of some one of those [Page 23] Enchanters, which every day worke so many prodigies in the townes of Africa. I knew not which way to be cleered of my doubts. In the meane time I was in an extreame perplexity. But perceiving that Hely and his servants had no other intent then to serve me, I said to my selfe, I should be very unwise to dis-obliege them. I went therefore into the bath, but so dextrously, that I discovered not the difference betwixt Iphida­mantus and Ennoramita. Assoone as I was dried, persumed and clad, Hely reentred the chamber where I was, and shewing me my picture: See (said he) that which hath pre­served my life in your absence. At that speech I put on a very serious countenance, and told him I had beene in so great an astonishment, by meanes of that which had betided me since I was taken out of the Sea, that I could scarce reserve to my judgement suffi­cient to know whether I were yet my selfe or no. But let me tell you. I am a man. He­ly smiled, and shooke his head, hearing me say so; and taking me by the hand, faire En­noramita Iphidamanta, replied he, do not think to hide your selfe from those eyes which love hath made so clear-sighted. You have now nothing to feare. The traytor Nephizus is not in this countrey, and Abdelmelec hath acknowledged his offences. You are absolute Mistris of me and my Estates. Command solely, and you shall be punctu­ally obeyed. I grew almost mad to see my selfe treated like a maid, and in that choler, I spoake to the King any thing that came first to minde. At last recollecting my wits: I cannot imagine (said I to Hely) how you came to know my name to be so neere to Iphidamantus. But you may know that that Iphidamantus was born a Prince, and bred up in the Port of the Grand Seignior, by the name of Solyman. I see (said I) you do not beleeve me; but since your credulity is so wilfull, I will make you both an eye and hand witnesse that I am no woman. Presently I unbuttoned my robe, and would have shew­ed him my brest, that he might know I wore not garments unbefitting my Sex: but he clapped his hands on his eyes, and protested, he had rather dye then engage me in any action which should displease me. No, no, (said I) I will do nothing unseemely. Come, see, and disbeguile your self. That old foole, holding his hands still on his eyes, told me, he was too certaine of who I was to desire new testimonies. Should my eyes (said he) now tell me the contrary, I would say they lied, and hold them for Impostors. Be therefore still (if you please) what you have beene. Be Iphidamanta, be Ennoramita, be a Shepheardesse, be a Princesse; you shall still be that visible Divinity which Hely will adore whilst he lives; and the onely beauty he will enjoy in that Paradise which his great Prophet prepares for him. Nay, Iphidamanta shall be the chiefe part of my beatitude. She shall be the most delicious dish I will taste of in the eternall feastings, and her divine allurements will make me look with contempt on the miraculous Pom­citrons which our Prophets Angels will give to his believers for the accomplishment of all their pleasures. And to speake truth, how rare soever the beauties of those celestiall fruits are; what is there in them that can be compared to the charmes of Iphidamanta? This discourse, composed partly of that poor Princes errors, and partly from those of the Alcoran, gave me good cause of laughter. Yet I could not hold, but at last grew angry; and had I given way to my first thought, I had made Hely repent him of his ex­travagancy. But when I called to minde, that I should avenge my selfe on a poore man whom age had deprived of judgement: I said to my selfe, I should be more senselesse then he, if I went about to wrong him. For three months together, I had as much of this as was possible. I patiently endured the Kings highest impertinencies. I coldly re­ceived his Idolatries; I gave care even with pleasure to his supplications, his idle talke, and his wayanentings. In a word, I almost became the same which that foole tooke me for; and tooke in hand as well the rest, though much against my will, the needle and the spindle. At last, Hely brought me to Morocco, and caused me to be received with an incomparable magnificence. But after I had beene there a while, and was growne of so ridiculous a life; I resolved to beguile, or to bribe the Guard that was night and day set over me; and to take my time, when some strange ship should be ready to set saile. There chanced an excellent combination to perfect my designe. Postes came from Thu­ [...]is, from Argiers, from Fez, and many other places; who all solicited Hely to bring in­to the field those troupes which he had promised for the invading of Spaine; and assured him, that within few dayes, the Grand Seigniors fleet would be at the generall Rendez­vous. [Page 24] These newes a little suspended my old Dotard's follies; and made him turne his thoughts on more important businesse. Hee sent notice to Abdelmelec hee should be in a readinesse. Who answered him, he staied onely for the ships which the Vice-roy of Argiers had promised him for his troopes. That his Army was brave and very resolute, and that ere long he would send him farre better assurances of that verity, then words and letters. I understood from Hely how the Grand Seignior (offended with the Portugals beginning by their East-Indian Navigations to breake the trade of Spice, which from all times before had beene through his Dominions) was resolved to invade Spaine, and by a continuall warre, take from them the meanes of sayling into the East. Twas for that intent this great preparation was made. You have seene the event in the battaile which the Turks lost; it will be therefore superfluous to relate the particulars. Assoone as Hely had made good his promise, and drawne out of all places all that were fit to carry Armes; he brought me back againe to Guargetsem, that he might be farre enough from the noise of warre, and by a sound repose satisfie his ridi­culous passion. After we had beene there a month, Abdelmelec sent to the King his Fa­ther a great Gallion which he had taken from the Portugals, and with that vessell above three hundred Christians of severall Nations. When I saw that vessell, I said to my selfe, the Prince of Morocco had rather sent it to me, then to the King his father, and in that moment, put on my last resolution of freeing my selfe. Hely having extolled to me Abdelmelec's valour, and desirous to let me see the proofes, brought me into a very great roome where he had put all his slaves. I looked on them, and though they were all wounded, yet I found them exceeding constant in their adverse fortunes. I bid them (in Spanish) to be of good heart, and told them I would take care for their safety, and labour for their delivery. They gave me thanks, and one amongst them, of an exceeding good aspect, said softly to me, that if he and his companions could but get weapons, he assured himselfe (as incommodated as they were) to get againe what they had lost, and something more. That mans freenesse was like to have ruined him; for Hely suspecting what he said, gave command he should be presently strangled. I besought him to spare his life for my sake: and I had no sooner requested but it was granted me. From the prison we went to our ordinary diversions; and from that day set my wits on worke for the advancement of my Enterprise. I promised so many things, and gave so much to two of my Eunuchs, that by their industry I secretly got Armes out of the fortresse, and as closely sent them to the Christians. Assoone as they were in case to make use of them, and that they had as many as they needed, they broke open their prison, cut the throats of the small Guard they had, and got aboard their ship in the roade of Guarget­sem. At the same instant the tumult began, I got to the secret staire that went downe from the fortresse to the Sea, and by which my deare Cydaria saved her selfe as I con­jectured by the ordinary discourse which Hely had with me. When I was got downe, I found a boate ready for me, and my two Eunuchs in it. We got speedily to the ship, and being aboard, the question was, what way to steere, to avoid the falling againe into the hands of our enemies. All the Christians having chosen me for their Commander, besought me still to be their Releasor. The fafest course for us (said I) is to make off from the coast of Africk, because of the great number of Turkish ships which get thi­ther. But since our ship hath all the markes of those of Turkey, and that our Armes, our Turbants, and the rest of our cloathes, may make us passe for some of their party, let us not lose sight of these coasts, nor engage our selves in a Sea we know not. This ad­vise was followed; but had it not beene for the ignorance of our Pilot, who the very first night was run out of the way, it had cost us our lives, or at least our Liberties. For Hely assoone as he heard of my escape, sent forth foure great barkes well armed, which he had for the defence of the place, and commanded those that went aboard them, to follow me to the worlds end, rather then let me scape away. Our Pilots error having preserved us from that danger, cast us into another as great. For, we lost sight of land, and were two or three dayes wandring up and downe the Ocean. At last we descried the high mountaine of Teneriffe, but knew it not; and as we were about to land there, a storme cast us on the sides of a little Isle, where I learnt (said he, addressing himself to Zelmatida) at the cost of my bloud, how fatall Polexanders valour is to those that pro­voke [Page 25] it. Our Hero being oblieged to answer to these words, extraordinarily praised Iphidamantus; and related to Zelmatida particularly with what generosity his brother had taken Alcidiana's Pilot into his protection, and with what boldnesse he came alone to assaile his whole fleet. After this discourse was ended; Iphidamantus intreated his brother he would be pleased to let him prosecute a design for which he had left Bajazet; and that taking again the ship which he brought from the Pirats Island, he might make an end of his unhappy destiny. Polexander imagining by his words, he laboured under some great perplexity, and loath to use the authority his age gave him over his brother; told him, he might do what he pleased: though (said he) Zelmatida and my self would gladly enjoy you longer with us. But since you are cal'd otherwhere, go when you please. And, who knows but love may be the cause of so speedy a separation? Iphidamantus fighed at his brothers last words, and having taken leave of them both, caused his men to make towards the mouth of the Straights. Achaim, Hamet and many other Cap­taines of the Pirats, came likewise to bid adieu to Polexander; and giving him extraor­dinary thanks for the honour and riches whose acquiring he had beene the chiefe cau­se, swore to him many times, they would eternally preserve the memory of his benefits, and a desire to merit them by their services. Our Hero having bid them all farewell, had now no other thought (if we except the commanding and perpetuall thought which [...]nseparably linked him to Alcidiana) but to bring back his victorious fleet into the ha­vens of the Canaries. This resolution was attended with all the happinesse which ac­companied him when he tooke paines for the contentment of others; and his returne was such a plentifull sourse of delights, as his Isles, how fortunate soever they have beene alwayes esteemed, were ignorant of knowing any the like till to that day.

The History of ALMANZAIRA and ZABAIM.

I Owe the honour of my birth to that great King, who by the extent of his territo­ries, as by the strength of his people, hath alwaies disputed with mighty Belul the title of Emperour of Ethiopia. His name was Almanzor, and because the Queene my Mother was brought to bed of me upon the River Zaira, he would have me called Al­manzaira. You wonder may be, to see the colour of my face not answerable to that of my Nation, but your astonishment will cease, when I shall have told you, that my mo­ther (as borne in Europe) was farre whiter then I. That Princesse had not by my birth the contentment she expected. For she never had her health past her childbirth, but dyed after three or foure yeares languishing. Almanzor having lost so amiable a wife, turned all his thoughts and care to preserve what she had left him. I was then all his af­fection: and noting in my extreame childhood, I know not what inclinations, which bred great hopes in him, 'twas his will I should be brought up with the most of wari­nesse and curiosity. To that end, he built for me a Palace in the midst of his gardens, and gave me many Ladies of eminent vertue, that having alwayes in sight, persons of such perfection, I might at last become somewhat that was not ordinary. I profited so well in that schoole, that at the age of ten yeares I had gotten to such knowledge as bred wonder in my Father and Governesse. I liv'd in a continuall repose to my age of sixteene; but as if that sixteenth yeare had beene the utmost terme of my felicity, I found my selfe (though innocent) involv'd in crimes and infamy. Farre from the Kingdome of Congo, raign'd, under the authority of the Queene his Mother, that Mo­narch feared of all Africa, whose remembrance is as deare to me as his enmity is sen­sible. Almanzaira could speake no more, but her sobs did for her, and told Polexander that, which may be she had not dar'd to say her selfe. At last she grew recollected; and retaking her discourse: Zabaim, and my deare Lord (said she) is the Prince I meane. He had not yet attain'd to his eighteenth yeare, when his desire of fame, and the curio­site of seeing strange Countries made him leave his Kingdome. He got to Sea, attended proportionably to his quality. Some time he spent in the Court of the King of Guinea, from thence he went to that of Benin, and came at last to ours at Congo. Almanzor welcom'd him as a potent Prince and his ancient Allie. Some few dayes after his arri­vall, some body spake to him of my beauty and wit, and those relators told him those tales lyed the more boldly, because they were certaine I was not to be seene, and by consequence Zabaim could not convince them of imposture. At first that young King heard those praises without shew of any desire to see me, nor any great discontent if he had not: seene me yet. But assoone as he heard how my Father caus'd me be kept in a Palace whereinto none had accesse, he seem'd presently troubled, and growing in love on heare-say, or rather following the error of most young people, who affect nothing so much as what is forbidden, resolved to see me. When he had set that designe on foote, all others were suspended: and without foreseeing the difficulties of his enterprise, there­in imbark'd himselfe with all the indiscretion which commonly accompanieth those of his age and quality. He might have made knowne his desire, and have asked the King my Fathers leave to present his service; but he thought it would be no glory to him to take those wayes which should be common to him with Princes of lesse value. He therefore concealed his intention from him, strove to win some one of my dome­sticks, set his Confidents on worke, walk'd at all times neere my lodgings, and by a young mans imprudency no day past without talking to Almanzor of his depart, and yet staid without any appearance of a just hinderance. Some time past before my father had any suspicion of Zabaim, but so soone as he had reflected on his discourses, he per­ceiv'd the cunning. He therefore set his confidents as spies over him; and watched him with such care himselfe, as one evening he found him with one of my women. Be [Page 39] pleas'd to imagine whether he were offended at it, he who was the most severest Prince of the world, and the most jealous of his reputation. His first thoughts were to kill Zabaim. But loath to draw so powerfull enemies on his armes, or at least pardoning the Princes youth, he thought it best to be freed of him without any noise. To that pur­pose, the next morning he writ a note to him in the name of the Prince his Confident, and sent him word, his designe was discovered, the King was advertis'd of it, and that if he did not quickly save himselfe, he ran the hazard of never seeing his owne Kingdome againe. This letter was so nimbly thrust into the Princes bed, that he perceiv'd it not, though he was present. When he was laid he found it, and calling for a torch to see what 'twas, was much amaz'd when he saw his designe thrive no better. His courage yet fail'd him not. A day or two longer he staid in Court, with as good a cheere as be­fore, and inventing a specious pretext to colour his departure, took leave of the King my Father. Almanzor, somewhat troubled for thus making him quit his Kingdome, sent spyes after him, with charge, to see what way he tooke. At their returne they said for certaine he was gone towards Guinea. He thought then that the Princes passion would go no further, and that it was rather a Caprichio of youth, then a designe well framed. Time confirmed him in that opinion, and his minde was quite at rest; when the King of Benin sent his Ambassadors to him to renew their ancient Alliance, and in­treat him to be pleas'd that the Princesse his daughter might passe some time in my company. Almanzor thinking himselfe much oblieged to the intreaties and civilities of that Prince, dispatch'd two of the principall Lords of Congo, to restore his comple­ments, ratifie the treaty of their Alliance, and to offer him aswell as to his daughter all that was in his command. Not long after the returne of my fathers Ambassadors, arri­ved Palmira, (so was the Princesse of Benin called) and was receiv'd with all magnifi­cence, and the first day lodg'd with two of her Ladies within some of my lodgings. Our first interview was accompanied with all that, which courtesie makes use of in the like occasion; but there was this difference betwixt my complements and those of Palmira, that mine were all heart and freedome, and hers mix'd with so much feare and humility, that I knew not how to behave my selfe to her. She had not been with us above fifteen dayes, when a strange accident discover'd to me the cause of her submissions and diffe­rences. The King my Father who punctually visited me twice a day, had let slip foure, without either seeing or sending to me. I wondered at his neglect; but I did it more, when one evening I saw him come into my chamber, dragging after him a man who had his hands bound behind him. As farre off as he saw me, Almanzaira, (said he to me; with the tone of a voice which witnessed at once both his choler and griefe) where is Palmira? I answered, she was retir'd. Let her come to me, (said he) and turning to one of my women, commanded that servant to call her. Whilst she was gone, Almanzor did nothing but walke with hasty strides up and downe my chamber. Some times he lifted his eyes and hands to heaven, then he stamped on the planching, and afterwards stopping short before me: O heaven! which seest all, (cryed he) and art just [...] why wouldst thou suffer so horrid a treason? But since 'tis thy wil that I must punish it, poste­rity shall know, my honour hath ever beene more [...] to me then my life, or my Crowne. After that, he turn'd him to my Governesses, and with an angry brow, 'Tis you, (said he) unusefull and perfidious women, which one way or other are become confederates with mine enemies, and you shall receive the deserv'd punishment of your negligence and disloyalty. As he ended these threatnings, Palmira entred my chamber. She neither trembled nor look'd pale; and though in her conscience she knew her selfe guilty, yet shew'd such a height of courage, as is not usuall with maidens. As­soone as she saw the Prisoner which my father held, she knew him to be her principall Confident, and judging by his surprisall her cunning was discovered; in lieu of being troubled at it; she spake thus to the King my father: Think more then once on what thou intend'st to do. Thy precipitation may work more mischiefe then my rashnesse hath done. Give no eare to it then; if thou wilt preserve the name of discreet, and give thy selfe patience to heare me. I call to witnesse that eternall Providence which reades my heart, and beseech it to be never auspicious to me, if I hide from thee the truth of [...] things as have passed since I have beene with Almanzaira. I sweare to thee, that [Page 40] neither she, nor any of her women, ever knew me for other then Palmira Princesse of Benin. Let them live in that error still, and talke not to them of a crime, of which they are ignorant, that they may so continue without knowing the offender. Almanzor was staid at Palmira's words, and though he gave no great beliefe to them, yet fearing to commit a fault, durst go no further. Presently he led away Palmira, with his pri­soner, and left me and my women, poore innocent creatures as we were, in such a feare, that we passed the rest of the night in asking one another what offennes we had com­mitted with Palmira. At day breake, there came into my chamber, the President, and the most ancient of Almanzors Councell: After they had put forth my Governesses, they asked me many questions, and would compell me to confesse, I knew Palmira for some other then the Princesse of Benin. (Be pleased my deare Comforter, that I open not againe an unfortunate processe, which made those who knew me not, to suspect my innocency, and was like to have utterly ruin'd both mine honour and life.) Know that Almanzor, (of a debonaire and loving father, growne suddainly a mortall enemy) per­mitted the inhumane and miscreant Baramas Prince of Anzicana, to maintaine pub­liquely I had lost mine honour with Zabaim. In prosecution of this false accusation he gave me over into the hands of such Judges, who without doubt were wonne by that unfortunate Tyrant; and with his owne hand sign'd the Sentence of death which they had pronounced against me. 'Twas by that bloudy Judgement I understood, not onely Palmira to be that Zabaim for whom I was accus'd, but also how without any regard to the quality of a Soveraigne he was condemn'd to three strange kind of punishments. First, they enjoyn'd him to marry me, to satisfie the publique Scandall, and restore me my honour lost by his meanes. Secondly, he was to fight with Baramas, or confesse the crime whereof he was accused. And lastly, 'twas said, if he escap'd the first combat, he should be expos'd to the Lions for reparation of the injury he had dar'd to commit a­gainst the Crowne of Congo. In the interim, the Name of Zabaim and his regall qua­lity running in my minde, I long time meditated on the danger he had undergone for me; and by little and little engaging my selfe to wishes for his most advantage, I ad­mir'd the discretion wherewithall he had liv'd among all the liberties I had given him. Afterwards, I approv'd of his love; and finally, my memory representing him to me farre fairer then it was painted there by mine eyes, made him so deere to me. that I griev'd not so much to lose mine honour, as to be depriv'd of so true and respectfull a lo­ver. For himselfe, he thank'd the Judges for their severity; and calling them his tute­lar gods, and his benefactors, besought them a thousand times, to cause their Sentence to be speedily executed. His excessive joy, made my father thinke, I had not so farre for­gotten my selfe as to satisfie the Princes desire. Notwithstanding, imagining he could not stop the speech of the people, nor resettle his shaken reputation, but by that great execu [...]ion, he would not have it put off. Many of his subjects petition'd for my pardon and Zabaims, and told him, that though he would not be so good a father as to have pity on a daughter whom all the world thought innocent, yet should he be so wise as not to draw on his hands the forces of many of his neighbours, who sought but an honest pretext, to proclaime warre agai [...]st him. These reasons, which in all likelihood should have staid, were the cause why he hasten'd the execution of Judgement. I will not tell you Zabaims extreame joy, when he was taken out of prison to marry me; nor what countenance I kept during an action which in effect was to me as glorious, as in appea­rance it was full of dishonour. The Prince spake to me a hundred things powerfull e­nough to obliege me to love him, yea if I had beene to that time his enemy; and seeing I dissolv'd in teares: Madam, (said he, casting himselfe at my feet) why do you so ex­ceedingly afflict your selfe? In troubling the peace which the witnesses of your con­science should give you, you justifie the injustice of our common enemies. Remember that you are innocent, and in performing the actions of a criminall, you cast blots on that most pure reputation with which you ought to returne to heaven. But what an ill Interpreter am I of your sorrow? You weepe not with griefe for your offence, since most certainely you have committed none. 'Tis the discontent to wed a Prince without Name and merit which afflicts you: and you believe without doubt that this alliance is no lesse infamous, then the crime whereof you are unjustly accused. If it be so, Madam, [Page 41] be of comfort, since you shall be a widow assoone as married; and at farthest within foure and twenty houres you shall see your selfe freed from that ignominious servitude whereto a cruell necessity hath ingag'd you. I could not endure that Zabaim should say more; but entreated his silence, and my request was accompanied with such a counte­nance, as sufficiently shew'd him what my intention was. The chiefe Priest of the gods of Congo, had order to come where we were; and he entred with his attendants, where omitting no ceremonies which are observ'd at the marriage of Princes, he link'd Zaba­im and my selfe in such a bond, that in spight of a devilish Sorceresse charmes it holds to this day. Assoone as these Rites were performed, the Prince of Senega was conducted back againe to prison, and I was left without any other company, then my afflictions, teares and prayers. The next morning, they made me put on mourning, and in those funerall ornaments, I was brought to the place where my deare husband was to fight with the perjur'd Baramas. He came presently after me, and desiring to see me before he died, presented himselfe at the foote of my Scaffold. Long time stood he with his eyes fix'd on me, and shew'd he durst not speake for feare of offending me. I perceiv'd his feare, and (desirous to assure him of my love, by such termes as was firting for me) Our enemies (said I) have imagined they should lessen your courage, and encrease your adversaries valour, by cloathing me as if you were already dead. But their malice shall have a successe quite contrary to their hopes; and the black I weare, is a certaine pre­sage of that death which your valour and just iudignation have prepared for them. For the rest, if you love me, thinke of preserving a life which is the beginning of mine; and fight with this beliefe, that one onely Soule equally animates both our bodies, and she therefore cannot be separated from yours, but it must instantly abandon mine. I will then, Madam, (replied Zabaim) live and overcome, since 'tis your pleasure; for I should doubt of that Providence which governes all, should I doubt of the victory, which its Justice and your Innocency assures me. The Prince could not answer me, be­cause his enemy was come into the field, and cryed audaciously, To the combat. Here­upon Zabaim left me, and flew on Baramas as swift as lightning, met with him like thunde, and had sooner kill'd him, then they perceiv'd he was wounded. This facility of quelling a man, which had the repute of being invincible, so astonish [...]d the beholders, and so absolutely changed their first imaginations; that all with one voyce cryde out, that I was innocent. For all this, I was brought back to my prison, and my deare Lord and husband to his. But the people, confident of my vertue, and enraged at my fathers rigour, ran out of the place where I had beene justified, and ran to the Palace. Great and little, rich and poore, men and women, rushed in, and cryed, Congo is saved, Al­manzaira is innocent, the Calumniator is dead, and the honour of our Prince is redeem­ed. Almanzor, who gave not over the being a father, though he was a Prince, and a Prince exceeding jealous of his authority, was ravish'd to heare these transports from his Subjects, and those testimonies of love. Yet would he not let goe nor forget the affront which in his opinion Zabaim had an intent to put on him. Seeing then his sub­jects would not be appeased, he arose, and imposing silence: My people, said he, I thought my daughter would have prov'd innocent; but this is not enough, neither for my selfe, nor for her, nor for you. It behoov'd, that she should not have beene suspe­cted. Vulgar persons are as those lesser starres which may be obscur'd, and yet our eyes not lesse enlightned. But those whom heaven hath constituted Princes, in this re­semble the Sun, that being borne to be conspicuous to all the world, all their Eclipses are noted, and their least blemishes not let passe unknowne. I perceive well by your actions and words, that you would have me indulgent, and you beseech me for the life of her whom you think not unworthy of her birth. Well, my people, I will remember I am a father, since that quality is not contrary to the name of Judge and Prince. I cannot erre, since heaven it selfe hath made so publique a declaration in favour of her Innocency. I give you your Princesse, but aske me no more. This impudent and daring young man, who to satiate his brutish appetite, hath caused so many troubles amongst us, must satisfie our just indignation, and restore to my daughter by another way then that of marriage the honour which we may say she hath lost, since she was in danger of losing it. The people replyed nothing to my fathers words, but went out of the Palace, [Page 42] all at once blessing his clemency and Justice. Almanzor was no sooner retir'd into his privy chamber, but two of his Officers came to him. The eldest began thus: My Lord, (said he) Zabaim hath requested a favour from his Judges, which they have denied him, because it absolutely depends on you. And what is that? (my father asked) It is not (said he) that you should give him his life, nor that you should change his punishment; but that you will be pleased, the Princesse may be to morrow on the same Scaffold she was to day, onely to have the contentment to dye in her presence. He entreates you likewise, that she come not clad in those mournefull habits which accused her of a crime whereof she was innocent. That Magistrate spake no further, but attended the Kings answer. My father was pleas'd with Zabaims request, and to shew he liked it, sent one of his Confidents, to command me from him, to deck my selfe the next morrow as I was wont to do on my birth day. This command was the more welcome to me, be­cause I thought Almanzor had acknowledged my deare husbands Innocence, and so sent his will that I should dresse me for the solemnity of my nuptials. On that beliefe I unloaded a part of those afflictions which oppressed me. I set my minde at rest for some few houres; and my hope of being happy was prevalent enough to shut mine eyes which had not beene closed since I was a prisoner. My sleep yet was not so sound, but that it was sometimes interrupted by my dreames and affrightings. By that little light which came at day-breake into my chamber I fully awaked: and calling up those women which served me, commanded them to let my Guard know I was so. With a great deale of joy they obey'd me; and almost assoone I saw enter my chamber the Ladies who had had the care of my breeding. At their coming in all my cares vanish'd; and I believ'd that he who did me that favour, seem'd to promise me many others. Those Ladies dressed me, and their neatnesse was accompanied with so much diligence, that I was ready when I was sent for. Out of my prison I came, and saw all the streets full of people. Joy sate in their countenances, and when I entred the Amphitheater, the clap­ping of hands, and acclamations assuring me of the publique affection, were certaine presages of my approaching felicity. A little while after I saw appeare the valiant Zaba­im, accompanied with his Judges, and followed by a great Guard. Never did my ima­gination represent him to me to amiable as he appeared that day. He intimated a cou­rage, which made no man doubt but that he was really a King. In the meane time, pity and horror seized upon me, when I saw my selfe so farre deceiv'd in my hopes. My affrightment was farre greater, when Zabaims Judges and Guard, placing themselves on the Amphitheaters degrees, left him alone on the Sand. We gaz'd on one another, with eyes which witnessed the truth of our affection. But assoone as I saw one of those dreadfull and furious beasts, which was to devoure the Prince, I fell (after a great shrieke) flat on my face, and so lay in a swound all the time which my deare husband spent to make himselfe victorious. The shoutes of the people, the noise of the trumpets, and the joy of my women brought me from my fainting. I recover'd my [...]ight, and the first thing I saw, was my beloved Zabaim, who planting his foote on the Lions belly, and leaning on his sword, seem'd to aske whether there were any more enemies to be overcome. A litle after that deare Prince came to me, and gave me thanks for the good successe of his combat; and saying, a thousand like victories could not make him wor­thy my favour, he swore to me, his utmost desire was to gaine by an honourable death the glory to live continually in my memory. They gave him not time to continue his discourse, nor me leave to answer him: for all the Spectators, leaving their places, and making their excesse of joy resound through the place, came all thronging about my Scaffold. Some tooke Zabaim, and (whether he would or no) placing him on the buckler wherewithall he fought, put him on the shoulders of ten or twelve men, and in that manner carryed him about the Amphitheater. Others tooke off the Lions skins, and (with them) setting their heads on tops of pikes, carried them as trophies before the invincible Zabaim. During this little triumph, some advertis'd the King my father of what had passed, and though he seemed discontented at it, yet Zabaims vertue touch­ed him; and judging, by what he had done, what he might doe, esteem'd himselfe hap­py (in himselfe) to see me the wife of so great a King. Yet, he would not let the people perceive he was capable of so quick a change. He kept in his Palace; and though he de­sired [Page 43] Zabaims alliance as much as his Subjects, yet he seemed as if he had beene yet in his first sentments. When those who caried Zabaim were entred the Palace, they ask'd to see their King: He came out on a terrace, (which was in a place from whence one might easily speake to those in the Court) and seeming to be much astonish'd; What's here (said he) my subjects? Have you chosen another Prince then my selfe, and put in my place the man I see on the buckler? The multitude confusedly answered, no: And after they had many times cryed out, Heaven save our Soveraigne Prince! My Uncle began to speake for all; and told my father, that Congo besought him by his mouth to preserve a Prince, which had not onely vindicated his innocency by all kinde of proofes, but who promised no lesse by his valour then to add to the Crownes of Senega and Gambra, those of the greatest Kingdomes of Africa. As my Uncle ended his Re­monstrance, I entred the Palace borne by ten Gentlemen. At sight of me, the shouts and applauses began againe. But when the people saw that Almanzor was not to be mov'd, they fel on the earth, and said they would never rise thence, till they had obtain'd Zabaims life, and the accomplishment of my marriage. At last my father was pleas'd to be forc'd, and told them he accorded to their prayer, what he would not have yeelded to the solicitations of all the Kings in the world. They thanked him for it after their manner, by shouts, clapping of hands, and other confusions. Assoone as Zabaim was at liberty, he came, tooke, and led me to my father, of whom he knew so well and with so much eloquence to aske pardon, that he got it for us both. Almanzor granted it with his eyes full of teares, as transported, he imbrac'd us both, and leaving himselfe to be wholly overcome by his owne good nature: I have (said he) erred my children; and knowing you as I doe at this present, I disavow my circumspection and hastinesse. Live happy, live long! What said I? Let us live together full of quiet and honour, that our perpetuall union may make us beloved of the good, and redoubtable to all miscreants. Zabaim cast himselfe at my fathers feet, when he heard him speake with so much affe­ction, and imbracing hard his legs; My Lord, said he, you shall never repent you of the favour you have done me. I wil give you a good account of the life you have given me, & if so be the favour of heaven second my pretentions, I dare vaunt, that the glory of my forefathers shall be but a part of that which I will leave to my children. Almanzor took up my deare husband, and held him long in his armes without the power of speaking a word, except that he would forget what was passed, or would not remember it, but to affect more the person who had cost him so deare the getting. These tokens of recon­ciliation having spent the rest of the day, the two following were bestowed in preparing the solemnity for my nuptialls, and the pastimes wherewithall they were to be accom­panied. For many months our Court was busied about nothing but in celebrating my mariage feast. After all the sports were ended, Zabaim tooke leave of the King my fa­ther, and departed, to satisfie the request of all his subjects. For my selfe, who could not resolve to leave a personage that was so deare to me, I fell into a swound in bidding him farewell, and in that manner was carried into my deare Lords Ship. After a happy voy­age we landed at Senega, and were there welcom'd with all the magnificence which the people use to display on the like occasions. Two yeares together Zabaim serv'd and ho­noured me with the same distance, and the same passion which lovers make shew of in their first pursuits. I was his sole delight. I absolutely ruled the minde of the Queene my Mother in law, I enjoyed the love all the Kingdome, and never Princesse liv'd invi­roned at once with so many prosperities: Truly they were excessive, and so not of long continuance. At the beginning of the third yeare, Love gave place to warre. Zabaim offended by the King of Melley, entred with his armes into his territories, and made himselfe master of them. The Kings of Temian, of Guma and of Dama arm'd them­selves to reestablish that Prince; but by the valour of Zabaim they were enveloped in the fortune of their allie. The King my Lord, loaden with palmes and honour, retur­ned to me, and renewed his former flames. A little time after the King of Guinea, who by his power had made himselfe redoubtable to all his neighbours, and who alone thought himselfe to be the Arbitrator of peace and warre, put a great Army into the field, and sent to proclaime warre against Zabaim. My deare Lord, unwilling to suf­fer this audacious Prince to goe unpunish'd, entred his Kingdome, and conquer'd it with [Page 44] an incredible promptitude. But alas! how fat all were his victories to him? what did he lose in getting that great kingdome? and how cruelly did a slave belonging to the King of Guinea, avenge the defeate and death of his Master? Yes, (my deare Deliverer) du­ring that Conquest, Zabaim by my mis-hap rather then by his fault, or if you will, by the power of charmes and philters, rather then by his levity, became so dislike himselfe, that you cannot without horror heare that which I have to tell you. But be­fore I relate to you so prodigious a change, promise me, rather to bemoane my Lord, then to blame him, and that no compassion which you shall have of me, winne you to wish him ill: for, I shall hold you for mine enemy, if you cannot love me without ha­ting him whom I love more then my selfe. Rather bemoane us both: abhorre that witchcraft which hath had power to ruine so solid an amity; and if you have ought which you can lawfully affect, beseech the Author of all love which is sacred, that he give you not over as he hath done my deare Lord and husband, to the mercy of those in­famous Sorcerers, which corrupt the best dispositions, and make brutish the most ratio­nall of men. The three first months of my deare Lords absence, I heard so often from him, that I admir'd his care of writing to me, and the speedinesse he commanded his Couryers. The fourth, both the one and the other grew more slacke, and the fifth passing without any newes at all, I was perplexed with so great apprehensions, that both sleeping and waking me thought I still saw that deare Prince in his grave. Had I not fear'd his displeasure, I had gone to see him in his Army. But rather willing to be un­fortunate, then to undertake ought he might dislike; I had recourse to my vowes and prayers, and did then nothing but beg from heaven, either to take me from the world, or preserve to me the friendship of my deare Lord, without which my life was a tor­ment to me. In lesse then three weeks, I sent above twenty Postes into Guinea. Those who most truly loved me, return'd with that haste I commanded them, and brought me the Kings letters. I receiv'd them with that transport of joy you may imagine. But when I saw not in them those termes of love I had read in the former: Alas, cried I, I have lost my Lords affection. Unfortunate that I am! some one of my actions, or of my words, have receiv'd an ill interpretation. I confesse, deare Zabaim, I have erred; but how great soever my offence be, it merited not so rigorous a punishment, since my heart never consented to it. My griefe had even carried me to despaire, if my women had not used all kinde of reasons to suppresse it. Sometimes they accused me for suffering my self to be deceiv'd by vaine imaginations; then they put me in minde, that time and businesse had changed the Kings amorous thoughts into others more serious. These con­siderations did a while master my sorrow: but a little after I rejected them, and would receive no more comfort. At last, after I had well wept, written much, long expected, and made many prayers and sacrifices, my deare Lord return'd to me. I did not think to see him of eight dayes when he came into my chamber. This suddaine welcome surpri­sall so transported me, that going to meet him, I lost at once my strength, my know­ledge, and my sight. What did not that good King doe, seeing the excesse of my love? He kissed me a thousand times, and wetting my cheekes with his teares, stood a while without turning his eyes from me. When he saw I came not againe, he caused me to be carried and laid on my bed, where joyning his mouth to my cheeks, Poore Princesse, (said he aloud that my Nurse might heare him) can I be rationall and betray thee as I do? With that he held his peace; and stirr'd not from my boulster till some remedies had recovered me, which by little and little I did; and the first thing I took notice of, were some teares which were yet on my deare Lords face. That sight presently blot­ting out all displeasing imaginations that remain'd yet behinde, and making me believe I had ill conceiv'd them, I gently let fall my head on Zabaims cheek, and thus bespake him: Your Almanzaira then is yet pleasing to you. She may yet glory she enjoyes your favour, and time hath not depriv'd her of that which love had given her. The King could not answer me. His Speech was restrained by I know not what hinderance; but his silence and teares assured me of his love farre better then his words would have done. I besought him to go take a little rest, and after so long and painefull a journey, not to give himselfe new vexations. To these words I added a many more, and entreated him so often to looke to his preservation, that he arofe from me; but in rising said: Ah Al­manzaira! [Page 45] how happy should we be, if we might be alwayes together? Though that Speech made me feare some new disaster, yet I made all other thoughts give place to that of the Kings health; and pressed him so hard to go repose himselfe, that he gave me that contentment. He was not above two houres away when he came again to me, where he passed the evening and part of the night. In all which time, he left not to en­tertaine me in the same manner he was wont before his voyage. Nay, me thought, he had in his speeches more of tendernesse and of passion, then I had noted in those I had from him when his love was most violent. I know well these particularities doe but weary you, and you may laugh at my simplicity: but, pardon if you please (for this troublesome remembrance) a woman who loves nothing in the world but her husband, and yet cannot have the contentment to be with him. Five or sixe dayes together the King was in his good humour: and I already esteemed my selfe the most fortunate Princesse of my time; when I found my feares were just, my suspitions reasonable, and the Kings kinde usage but forced. He fell without any apparent cause into so deep a melancholy, and was mov'd with so much impatience and disquiets, that in all the Court there was none but I who found him supportable. My entertainement grew troublesome to him, all companies displeas'd; and not suffering himselfe to be seene but seldome, he abode whole dayes retired in his Cabinet. His anxiety went yet fur­ther. It made him hate his Palace, the aboade in townes and the frequency of his Cour­tiers. He retir'd him to a Castle which his Predecessors had built for their pleasure in hunting, and seem'd to be delighted with that Sport, to have some pretence and meanes to muse and plod at his liberty, and wander the woods alone. This life made me feele my first griefes, and search all the imaginable meanes to know the cause of it, and there­to to apply a remedy. Before I had recourse to those extraordinary, I would try the most speedy and facile. I therefore went to the King in his retirement, and besought him, by his first affection to tell me the cause of his melancholy. Deare Almanzaira, (said he) if it be true that thou yet lovest me, doe not enquire after my affliction. Get thee from me, and let me undergoe the punishment I have deserved. The feare I had to displease him, kept me from pressing him any farther, or staying longer with him. With mine eyes drown'd in teares I left him, and promised in that to shew my obedi­ence as well as in all other things. Believe what I am now about to tell you; and there­by judge of my Lords noble nature. He could not refraine from weeping when I went from him; and the griefe he had to see me afflicted, made him to teare his haire, and of­tentimes beg his death from the Deities. When I was come back to Senega, my first sorrowes renewed; and feare, representing to me the future, more unfortunate then I have found it, made me leade a life so retired, as if with the Kings favour I had for ever lost the hope of seeing him againe. At last I threw my selfe into the armes of the affli­cteds Comforter, and thence supplicated for sufficient strength to resist so prodigious a calamity. Truly, that Bounty that would not have a teare of theirs lost who are con­formable to its will, suffer'd not mine to be fruitlesse, but granted all I petitioned for See how it hap'ned. You may please to know, that among those who came with me to Senega, there was a Prince of my bloud who became so pleasing to Zabaim, as he made him his Confident, in spight of all jealousies from the Principals of his Kingdome. That Prince so wisely husbanded his favour, and so gentilely oblieged even those who had professed themselves his enemies, that by little and little he quell'd their envy, and fill'd all the Court with admiration of his vertue. In this generall approbation he had beene a yeare when he was engaged to follow Zabaim into Guinea. At his returne he avoyded all occasions of comming where I was & durst not come to give me an account of those commands I had given him. I presently therefore thought him guilty, though was innocent; and not knowing on whom to throw Zabaims change, I imagin'd Almaid (so was the favourite call'd) had wrong'd me to him, that he might solely pos­sesse him. With this beliefe I returned to Senega, and gave it not over, till I understood the true subject of all my afflictions. Zabaim one day sending to me Almaid, to make knowne the affection he preserv'd me in midst of his melancholy, or rather to hinder my complaining of his ill treatment, I conjur'd him by our neerenesse of bloud, by my sad fortune, and by the authority which heaven had given me over him, not to conceale [Page 46] from me any longer the causes of Zabaims hatred. When I perceiv'd he strove to put me on some other discourse without answering me, I redoubled my entreaties and commands, and led him into a little closet whereto I usually retir'd me to weepe more freely. When he saw himselfe alone with me, he was not a little perplexed, and much doubted, I was not come to that extremity, without having taken some strange reso­lution. I shut the doore, and fell on my knees before him, with an intent to move him by those extraordinary submissions. Straight he kneeled too, and almost not daring to looke on me. Madam, (said he) let not your Majesty doe any thing unworthy your birth, and vertue, and suffer not a curiosity (which cannot but be prejudiciall to you) en­crease a malady which it cannot cure. No, no, (replied I) I will not lose the occasion I have to get out of my miseries by one meanes or other. I cast me at your feet, Almaid, not as your Queen, but as a poore afflicted Lady who hath need of your assistance. Take pity therefore of so many teares which I have vainely spent, and suffer her not to lan­guish out her whole life, whom you can comfort by one onely word. Almaid, moved by my teares, could not hold his first constancy in so great a cause of compassion, and falling to weepe as well as I, call'd himselfe a thousand times unfortunate, and wish'd he were dead. I left him to his raving a long while, and spake to him all that my griefe prompted me, to winne him to discover to me the cause of all my miseries. But when I had long expected, and saw his pity extend no further, then to bewaile and not to suc­cour me: I arose, as one furious, and getting out his sword: Barbarous and inhumane wretch, (said I) which hast but a false and seeming pity on my afflictions, and who ta­kest pleasure in persecuting of Innocence by thy feigning comforts; thou wouldst have me with mine owne hand perfect that murder which thy calumnies have begun. Almaid hearing me speake in that fashion, and knowing I was resolute enough to fall on his sword, had he gone about to take it from me: Madam, (cried he) preserve that vertue which hath made you hitherto victorious over your enemies, and know your wrongs are lesse dangerous then the remedy you will apply to them. I will not propose to you these considerations to release me from that absolute command you make me. Know, Madam, I will obey it. But you must please first to promise me secrecy, to be of good heart, and to have power enough over your selfe, to suffer without resenting the most unjust contempt in the world. Were I now (replied I) to heare my Sentence of death, and that I should be engaged to execute it my selfe; I am ready prepared. I refuse no kinde of torment, so I may know what 'tis that troubles the King, and makes him hate the sight of me. You shall be satisfied, (said Almaid) and I sweare to you by that which is greatest in heaven, I will conceale nothing of what you desire to know, on condition you first render my sword. There 'tis, (said I) and do not believe, if thou deceiv'st me, but there are meanes enough to deliver me from my miseries, and make thee repent thy treachery. Almaid, judging by my actions as well as words, he must either ruine me, or discover Zabaims secret, resolv'd to save my life even with the losse of his for­tune. He arose then, and assoone as he saw me set, (beginning his discourse by a long Preface, which tended to nothing but the justification of mens inconstancy) told me, it betided even the most wise to have extravagant humours, and to preferre the most abject things which they possest not, before the more excellent they enjoy'd. After that preparation, he related to me as succinctly as he could, how Zabaim in his conquest of Guinea was falne in love with a white Slave; and so fondly amorous, that to be­hold the alterations she wrought on him, 'twas necessarily believed she had bewitched him. This Sorceresse (Madam) hath not onely made him forget his first affection, but made him insensible of his owne honour, and not left him so much discretion to hide the excesse of his folly. Most commonly, the like passions are of small continuance; and though they are even strong enough to last in spight of time, yet have they not such ability as to bicker with absence. This love of Zabaim is quite contrary. Time strengthens it, absence, in lieu of quenching, feeds and augments it. Those mad men which are chain'd up, have not more fearefull agitations then this Prince hath every day. He finds no ease but in his self-vexations. He hates all company where his griefe is restrain'd. He flies into the forrest before day, and most commonly there spends in­tire nights. He scarce eates or drinks. He hath ever in his mouth the name of Zelopa, [Page 47] (so is that Sorceresse nam'd) and if he see her not againe the sooner, I will not promise you his life. Here Almaid ended: and I, who was prepar'd to heare matters more pro­digious, found my selfe in heaven when I heard this. I look'd on Almaid with a cheere­fulnesse he expected not; and desirous to let him know how I tooke it: This is then (said I) all the cause of my Lords melancholy, and his aversion to me. Truly you are not to be pardon'd for being so reserv'd in a businesse, which hath not troubled me, but onely while it was conceal'd from me. Your extraordinary silence had been excusable if Zabaim had intended to have repudiated me, or to immure me to be starv'd betwixt foure walls. But what thought you would betide when I should know the King lov'd another woman then his wife? The corruption of all Ages, and the examples of all Princes have taught me, that 'twere worth wondring at if Zabaim should not take the way of his Equals, but have beene contented to enjoy one sole woman. I be­waile his weakenesse, I deplore his blindnesse, I condemne his inconstancy, but I wish him no ill at all; and were not heaven displeased with his passion, I should be the first to serve him as his Agent. Go Almaid, go, and labour for that Princes quiet who loves thee so dearely. Leave him no longer in his despaire, bring her hither whom he loves, and free him from those feares he suffers for my sake. I promise thee I will not crosse his contentment, nor omit any thing belonging to the endeavour of a wife of honour. Were I in your place, I would quickly finde some specious pretext, whereby, without scandall, that happy Slave, what said I, that happy slave? that abominable Sorceresse, might live with her Lover. But why should I soyle my selfe in your ordures? All you men are ingenious enough in wickednesse, without any need that my too much love to my Lord should make me your Confederate. When I had thus spoken to Almaid I was silent to heare what he would answer. But he was so ravish'd with my resolution, and so astonish'd at my constancy, that he could not reply. At last he came out of his ad­miration, and falling at my feet, Madam, (said he) your wisdome this day saves all A­frica, and I hope in little time your vertue will be the Kings preservation. Since you have taught me with what dexterity this malady is to be treated, I sweare to you I will forget nothing of that which may hasten his recovery. Thus ended our discourse. Presently I writ a letter (to the King) full of respect, and sent back Almaid to him: and within short time understood how Almaid had taken the way I had prescribed him. Zabaim had a cessation from those cruell tortures his affection inflicted. By little and little he became accessible, left his country life, and recalling about him all those whom his melancholy had estranged, made the Court as full and flourishing as ever. But not to shut himselfe presently within his Cities, nor to give his subjects a new cause of en­tertaining themselves with his alterations, or rather to drive away the time whilst they went to fetch the infamous Zelopa, he would needs make a progresse through his King­domes. Before he began it, that journey he came to Senega, and entreated me by the love I had alwayes borne him, to forget what was passed, and to be the same with him I had beene the two first yeares of our mariage. I confesse to you, I receiv'd his excuses as if they had been true; and was as sensible of his kindnesses, as if a loyall love had pro­duced them. He was so overjoy'd to see my affection nothing lessened, that a hundred times in a day he asked my pardon for his extravagancies. For my part, I doubted not, if he had not been forced by some witch-craft, but that he would have repented him of his error, and beene wonne againe by my care and complying. In this good correspon­dency we began our progresse, and so ended it. 'Tis true, that oftentimes he fell into his frensies, and was as transported from himselfe by the charmes of that Sorceresse. But his disquiets lasted not, and the hope he had of reseeing Zelopa, joyn'd with the facility he promised himselfe from me, made him hide his passion so well, that it troubled no body but himselfe. We went even to the frontiers of Guinea, and Zabaim, resting him­selfe in a very faire towne, intended to stay there till the Spring, and resolved to passe that season in all kind of sports and pastimes. Three weeks or a month after our arri­vall, the speech went, that the onely daughter of the late King of Guinea was coming to the Court, to cast her selfe at the Kings feet, and to beseech him for somewhat whereon to subsist after the ruine of her house. This newes coming from the Town to the Court, at last entred my closet; and one day, Almaid so well watch'd his time, that he spake [Page 48] to me of that supposed Princesse, even in the Kings presence. I seem'd to believe what he told me. Zabaim was overjoyed at it, and saw well by my innocency, I would con­tribute as much to the setling of his pleasure as himselfe. When Zelopa was within three dayes journey of the Court, I advised the King to send to meet her, and give her all those honours which appertained to a Lady of her extraction. He prais'd my courtship, and promis'd to follow my counsell. But when he saw I resolv'd to go so farre to enter­taine Zelopa as out of the towne, and conduct her my selfe to the Palace, his joy so much troubled him, that had I beene ignorant of his affection, that which he did to thank me, had beene sufficient to have too much discover'd it to me. Some five or sixe houres after, Zelopa came to a Castle which is but a quarter of a League from the towne. I went thither to her with all the Court, and neglected nothing of that which might sarisfie her pride or expectation. I found her not more faire then Almaid had describ'd her to me. But I saw by her countenance she should be very humorous and cruell. My conjectures (alas!) have beene but too true; and I feele yet daily the feare­full effects of that ambitious and barbarous minde. Let me relate to you my misfor­tunes in order, and you will admire, what my desire to please Zabaim made me do in spight of my inclination. I kissed that infamous woman, I spake to her in her owne language, to entertaine her the more civilly, I intimated to her the resentment the King and I had of the honour she did us, and so was with her, as she had beene the greatest Princesse of Africa. In a very ill garbe she returned my complements; and shewing a brutish pride in her actions as well as words, gave a most disadvantageous opinion of her selfe to all those that came with me. I endur'd all that fooles extravagancies for his sake that lov'd her; and forgetting the birth heaven had given me, gave her place, and with the most respect I could, brought her to the Palace. Zabaim, whose passion deserv'd pity, came out of the towne, and under a pretext of hunting, would witnesse to the Sorceresse, that her absence had nothing at all lessened the power of her charmes. But, (my deare Comforter) let us lightly passe over this fatall enterview, and be pleased, I spare him, who is so much the more to be bemoan'd, because 'twas either by force or frailty that he became guilty of my misfortunes. The pernicious Zelopa was receiv'd and lodged in the Palace as if she had beene something more then Zabaims wife. She was serv'd with so much order and State, as made all the Court quickly believe there was some mystery in those Ceremonies, and that she was not come to implore the Kings elemency. The day after her arrivall, there were by his command Justes proclaimed, and to make himselfe amiable to that foole, made the most prodigious expences that ever love joyn'd with prodigality had ever brought any man to. All the winter was a continuall succession of Sports, of Masks, of Feasts and other pastimes; and he was not in favour with Zabaim, who would not ruinate himselfe to encrease the monstrous ex­cesse of his luxury. Whilst these wicked riots drew the anger of heaven on the head of my deare Lord, I was almost continually in my closet, bewailing the crimes whereof I reputed my selfe guilty. But being not good enough to appease the eternall Justice, I employed in those actions of pity, all that were esteemed good people in Senega. Day and night were the Temples open, and our Priests did penance for their Soveraignes sin, oppos'd their prayers and Sacrifices against the impetuous hand of heaven and puri­ty. Zelopa had not beene at Court full six months when I found my selfe with child. I conceal'd that alteration as much as I could possibly; and as if I had foreseene the mi­series I was to undergoe for it, did nothing but weep and afflict my selfe, till I was brought to bed. For all that, my women no sooner discover'd that which I conceal'd, but they divulg'dit; and by that declaration fill'd all our Territories with a content­ment beyond imagination. Zabaim no sooner heard of it, but he abandon'd for a while her, who compell'd him to looke on me with contempt, and came to throw him­selfe at my feet. Many times he kiss'd my hands, and bedewing them with his teares, Deare Almanzaira, (said he) can you endure the sight of the most ingratefull and per­fidious of men? But I wrong your vertue to doubt of those miracles you can doe. Yes, you love me in spight of my infamies, and the case wherein you are, gives me so great and so certaine proofes of it, that I must hold those for mine enemies who [...]ve per­swaded me the contrary. I could not answer him but with my teares, nor de [...]d my [Page 49] Innocency, but in witnessing the joy I had to see him. Eight dayes he staid with me; and during all that time, he either thought not on Zelopa, or thought on her but to despise her. O happy had miserable Almanzaira beene, if her Lords good motions had lasted longer, or rather if Zelopa's charmes had had lesse power on the will of so great a Prince. He seem'd to be absolutely freed from her, when Zelopa sent to aske his leave for her returne into Guinea. At the sole name of that Sorceresse, he returned to his first mad­nesse. He was likely to have falne downe flat. He suffer'd incredible agonies; and [...]ru­ly I heard him say, (turning his eyes on me as he had beene ready to give up the ghost) make an end Almanzaira, finish my miserable Destiny, and suffer me not longer to languish. No, no, my Lord, (said I) you shall never perish through Almanzaira's fault. Had your malady none other remedy then my death, it should not be incurable. Come home to your selfe then, and figure not in your thoughts those ills which are not. And since Zelopa's company is so necessary for your repose, either stay her by your love or power. With that I left my chamber, which I had not done in three months before, and went to the lascivious Zelopa. I wonder'd to see her so much altered, and beleev'd she had given out speech of her departure, by that trick to re-inflame Zabaim's affecti­on. I entreated her to stay yet some longer time in Senega, and easily had my request granted. 'Tis true, she yeelded not to me, but on condition she might goe from Court, and have the liberty to retire her selfe to some place where she might not be seene but by her owne domesticks. I carried Zabaim that newes; and may boast, by that Ser­vice (which shall be ever glorious to me) I preserv'd his life. Presently he left me, to run whither he was hurried by the power of Charmes, and the next day departed the Court and Towne without bidding me farewell. He shew'd Zelopa all his Kingdome, and to take from before her all displeasing objects, he embarked himselfe with his Mi­nion, and carried her into the fairest and most delight some of his Islands. Shee tooke a great delight in it, and calling to her ayde all those Spirits which had made her eyes and tongue so powerfull, compell'd them to pluck out of Zabaim all his remainder of reason and humanity. The poore Prince felt the effect of those new Sorceries. He be­came an enemy to his fame, to his people and his owne bloud. He forgot his woefull Almanzaira, and casting the respect of himselfe into oblivion, he ador'd his Crime, and lay buried in the sensualities and ordures of Zelopa. Neere three months slid away; during which, I contented my selfe in complaining alone, and weeping without wit­nesse: but when I saw my misery grow every day worse and worse, and that Zabaim neither sent me Letter nor messenger, I could not chuse but let my griefe breake forth. Restore me my Lord, (wicked Zelopa) cried I often, and oppose not thy selfe against the Decrees of that Soveraigne Justice which would not have thee enjoy him. My wo­men and friends joyn'd their complaints with mine; and (believing it would please me) said all, so great a licentiousnesse was not to be longer endur'd. Cruell and unjust friends, (I replied) to what crime will your unfitting cares of me carry you? What, shall wee revolt from our Prince? Is he not absolute Master of our lives? and can his actions be reprehended or chastis'd by any other power then that which is above his owne? The Ladies were astonished at my resolution and remonstrance: and making them knowne to their husbands, hindered them from putting in execution that which they had de­termin'd for Zelopa's destruction. In the meane while, I drew necre my time, and fear'd lest by my too much tormenting my selfe I might become the murtherer of that on whom my utmost hopes were setled. Living therefore in some rest, in regard of it; I talked mightily alone, and of accusing me for too much endangering the life of a crea­ture which was Innocence it selfe: I will no more afflict me, said I; the Gods, Nature, my Duty and Love forbid it; and I should be more guilty then Zelopa, should I stifle within me the Image of Zabaim, the hope of so many people, and the cause of my ap­proaching happinesse. Keepe then, keepe Almanzaira the treasure thy deare Lord hath entrusted thee withall, and deprive not thy selfe of that meanes which (alone) is left thee, for the freeing him from a Witches enchantments. With the like resolutions, I spent my going with childe, till my ordinary throwes gave way to others which were yet new to me. At breake of day was I deliver'd of a Son, which was receiv'd by all those who assisted me, as if he had beene the tutelar god, by whose vertue the power of [Page 50] the Sorceresse should be absolutely annihilated. A little after his birth, they gave him me in mine armes: As feeble as I was I tooke him; and, I befeech the gods (said I to him) thou beest borne to a more happy Fate then thy Mother. Present [...]y, the Messenger whom I had chosen to carry the newes to the King, went away, and used such expedi­tion, that in two dayes he came to the unfortunately inchanted Island. Zabaim receiv'd the message with an appearance of joy; but sent back my Posts not giving him leave to take his repast, and made him set saile without the permission of speaking with Almaid of any other. The same day he came to me, conceal'd what might discontent me; and inventing an extreme satisfaction, said, the King had promis'd he would be quickly with me. Alas! he came not, and thought it enough to send Almaid. That generous Favou­rite, seeing me so desolate, forc'd himselfe as much as was possible for feare of encrea­sing my afflictions; but the compassion he tooke of my fortune overcame his resolution, and drew teares from his eyes. 'Twas yet worse when he would have spoken to me, for his speech failing him at the first word, he stood as knowing not what to say, and by that confusion told me, what Zelopa's wickednesse was able to make me suffer. In the meane time, that Wisdome which is the Source of all other, forsooke me not in that extremity. In lieu of despairing at Almaids discomfort, I found my selfe miraculously fortified. My courage encreased, and finding my selfe armed against all that might hap­pen: What Almaid, (said I) must I contribute a constancy and consolation which I expected from you? Cannot you endure the sight of an unfortunate woman? or have you not the heart to tell to what new torments she is condemned? Almaid seeing with what constancy I bore my affliction, tooke courage; and thinking there was no need of mincing my misfortune to make it the more supportable to me: Madam, (said he) the King who is not yet well satisfied in his former suspicions, would see the little Prince before he would have him acknowledged for his Son. He hath commanded me to come hither, and to bring the child to him without delay. Let nothing hinder you from being conformable to what he desires. Doe this last violence on your selfe. Give him that admirable proofe of your love and obedience; and consider (if you please) the consequence and importance of his command. Cruell and barbarous command! cried I, but I must obey it, since my Lord will have it so; and that with the sensibility of Nature I lose all those feares which our Enemy throwes on us. Take this little In­fan [...] Almaid, and go (maugre your selfe) deliver it to the fury of inhumane Zelopa. She cannot endure Zabaims lawfull heire to live. He must dye to assure her tyranny. One same day must give and take away from me the quality of a Mother; and without doubt by a fearfull agnition that monster must offer up the Son to those Demons which have sacrific'd the father to her. Almaid having by his remonstrances and teares obliged me to put a period to my laments; Madam, (said he) if any of my actions have had the power to make your thoughts doe me the honour as to thinke me worthy the name of an honest man, I submis [...]y beseech you to believe the little Prince shall run no danger; and that I will dye a thousand deaths (if possible) ere I suffer any whatsoever to attempt ought against his life. Let your Majesty therefore set your minde at rest, and satisfie the will of a father who is most dangerous to be provok'd. I wil not say some great hap­pinesse may succeed your obedience, but I am certaine, your refusall will render our wrongs absolutely incurable. After he had thus spoake, and told me what perill it was to detaine him, he cast himselfe at the feet of a Lady of Senega, who was most of my Counsell, and all my comfort, to dispose her to follow his opinion. I knew well I must resolve to leave my childe: I therefore call'd for it, and bedewing it with my teares: Goe, said I, little creature, unfortunate assoone as borne; goe, (under the protection of heaven which I adore) whither his commands call thee, by whom thou sawest the light. Give him a tryall of thy obedience even before thou knowest him: and when thou art with him suppresse thy cryes and teares, for feare of his ill interpretation, by imagi­ning thou turn'st against him all those armes which Nature hath bestowed on thee. With these words I fell into a swound, and my childe had falne on the ground, if Almaid had not caught him. He carried the childe to his lodging, and in lesse then two houres making all things ready, put on his way with my Son, and the women which waited on him. The very day on which that desolate troupe came to a Castle on the Sea side, Za­baim [Page 51] heard of it, and (leaving his inchanted Island) came to see this living image of himselfe. Almaira presented the child to him, and said I beseech'd him by our first love to consider that Infant as he was the father of it. 'Tis that to which Zelopa repre­sents me, cried Zabaim. She would have me use that power which the name of father gives me; and would not have any thing that is mine owne to be deerer to me then my selfe. Thou therefore poore innocent creature must bethe Sacrifice, not for the expiati­on but the continuance of thy fathers offences. Zelopa covets thy life, weake and unfor­tunate Infant; and will not believe my love to be without example, till she have seene me commit a murther which shall never have any. Dye then, since my fury condemnes thee; and let my weake and captivated reason give way to that unjust necessity which pronounceth the Sentence of thy death. What, thou weep'st my childe? and thy little cries seeme to implore my assistance against Zelopa's cruelty. Stay thy teares, smother these laments, and if thou wilt have me to be pitifull, do nothing that may make me so. But alas! I see that all things conspire with thine Enemy. Nature betrayes in fay­ning to succour thee. Thy teares, in lieu of pleading for thy safety, solicit thy destru­ction; and thy cries precipitate thy fate, in going about to divert it. Well, 'tis done, I am vanquish'd. Pity hath mollified my hard heart. I feele the force of bloud. I confesse my selfe thy father, and therefore thou must dye: for Zelopa assign'd me that fatall mo­ment, and commanded me then to begin thy murder, when Nature gave me the most lively and tender feelings a father could have for his Son. Zabaim could not continue his lamentations. The overflowing of his teares, and the violence of his fobs and sighes, tooke away the use of his voyce. He stood sometime like a Statue; but on the suddaine, passing from one extreme to another: He shall dye, since you will have it so, (cried he) he shall dye, the little Monster who will not restore me the life I have given him. Al­maid staid not till the poore Zabaim put those dreadfull words in execution, but snatch­ed his Son from him; and giving no eare either to his threatnings or prayers, went out of the Castle, cast himselfe into a barke which waited for him at the Sea side, and car­ried his little Prince into a Sanctuary; where in spight of all Zelopa's devils, he hath found his happinesse and safety. Yes, my deare Almanzor, that goodnesse which I have so often call'd to thy succour, hath cover'd thee with his wings; and leading thee as 'twere by the hand to that honour thou enjoyest, would have thy very infancy to pos­sesse its beauties and wonders. Till then Polexander abode in a deepe silence, but at the name of Almanzor he broake it, and looking on Almanzaira with a kinde of astonish­ment: how (said he) Madam, was Almanzor Prince of Senega your Son? Almanzor the lawfull Prince of Senega (said she) is my Son, but he of whom you speake to me, is not. Ah Madam! replied Polexander, how you affrighted me! for if the unfortunate Almanzor had beene your Son, you must have prepar'd your selfe for new sorrowes. Almanzaira shewing her good nature even to her enemies, entreated Polexander to re­late what had betided the Son of Zelopa since he was crown'd King of Senega. I am now cleer'd of all my doubts, (replied Polexander) and to make an end of yours, know that Almanzor is now no more then a little dust, and he hath suffer'd for the sinnes of those which brought him into the world. The same passion through which his father hath committed so many crimes, hath made the Son act one, which is so much the more pro­digious, since by its execution he hath cut off for ever the meanes of repenting him for it. Polexander had not continued this discourse, but seeing himselfe pressed by Alman­zaira, he recounted to her how Almanzor at the sight of Alcidiana's picture, fell ex­treamely in love with that Queene. That some few dayes after he was crown'd, he for­sooke his kingdome, and put to Sea, with a resolution to finde the inaccessible Island: but despairing of his voyages successe, and not enduring a Rivall in Alcidiana's love, he was forced to satisfie his jealousie by a combat. In which he had the better, but recei­ving not so much as he hoped for, he retir'd himselfe into one of the Canaries, and after he had there caused to be built a stately Tombe, had employed his owne against his own life. Almanzaira sigh'd often whilst Polexander made her this relation; and when he had done: All powerfull heaven, (said she) lifting up her eyes, thou hast shew'd thy Ju­stice in the death of that Infant of impiety, now let thy mercy beseene towards the child of benediction. The offence is punish'd, let the criminals acknowledge it, and after [Page 52] so long disorders, let all things returne to the course thou hast ordain'd him. Almanzaira and Polexander could not keepe on their conversation, because an old woman (coming in) addressed her selfe to the Queene, and said; Madam, Amalthea is dying, and peti­tions from you before her death, the honour of a visit. The extremity wherein she is, gives me the boldnesse to entreat you, not to deferre that worke of charity: Ah good heaven, (cried Almanzaira) by what accident is Amalthea brought to that ill estate! You may know it from her selfe, (replied the old woman) in the meane time, I most humbly beseech you from her, that you will obtaine so much from this stranger, as his staying in this place till your returne. Polexander delayed not for Almanzaira's request, but offered to abide there, or follow her: and if my Service (said he) may be any way beneficiall, command me, Madam, what you please, and you know your injunctions shall be inviolable lawes to me. The old Matron casting up her wetned eyes on our Heroe. O aspect too dangerous, because too charming! (said she) how true doe I finde that which Amalthea hath so often told me? But, Madam, (continued she) addressing her to the Queene, flye from this desirable Enemy, and come understand such things, which without so fatall an occurrence would not seeme credible to you. Almanzaira comprehending nothing of the Matrons Speech, arose, and after entreating Polexander to give a few houres to the satisfaction of a personage which merited to be obliged: She is (said she) of those unfortunate ones, in whom reason is found to be weaker then af­fection. She hath lov'd in spight of her selfe. She loves still, and hath for two yeares done pennance for a fault which deserves not that name, since 'twas never voluntary. Polexander would gladly have knowne who was this Innocent-guilty-one, but seeing the Matron extraordinarily presse the Queen, he suppressed his curiosity, and presented his arme to assist the Princesse in her walke. She very gracefully would not accept it, and to justifie her refusall, told him, the lawes of her Hermitage forbad the receiving of any such courtesies. With that she went out of the roome where she had entertained him, and making new excuses to him, wish'd him to goe see the grots and water-caves in her wood. You will there (said she) finde such paintings and rarities, as will let you know how much paines the faithful Almaid had taken to make me finde some flowers among the sharpe thornes of my Exile. So she left him, and went as fast as she could possibly to the place where she was so longingly expected.

A Continuation of the History of the Princes of SENEGA.

THat generall peace which reignes so absolutely from the height of heaven to the very depth of the waters, makes me call to minde that most happy day wherein I violated the humane Law to observe the divine: and wherein by a just disobedience, I chose rather to expose my selfe to the danger of losing the fathers favour, then to lay open the Son to the hazard of losing his life. But before I relate to you the strange ac­cidents of my voluntary Exile, and the faire adventures which accompanied the youth of the lawfull Prince of Senega; be pleased I recount to you the misfortunes of Al­manzaira, and the dreadfull resolutions which the too much blinded Zabaim tooke, through the ambition and fury of Zelopa. When that Sorceresse understood by the re­turne of her Idolater, that the young Prince was got away, she sent all the ships she had [Page 58] after him, and commanded to bring back againe dead or alive Almanzor and Almaid. Whilst the Instruments of her cruelty strove to execute her horrible commands, she turn'd her fury on Almanzaira, and either by her death or banishment would force the throne to be yeelded to her. To bring that to effect, she altered her ordinary course of life, she avoided all occasions of being with Zabaim, and when she was engaged to see or speake to him, 'twas with such a coldnesse, that not a King, but a slave would have beene troubled to endure it. After she had a while thus dissembled, and saw by her disdaines and cunning refusals, that Zabaim had more love and lesse reason then ever: she counterfeits one very passionate, and complaines that her too much facility hath made her the scorne of him she so highly adores. Zabaim, not able to resist her charmes, cast himselfe at the feet of that harlot, gave her such honours as are due to none but a Deity, confirm'd the vowes of his eternall servitude, and (excepting nought in the world, protests not to retard any thing she will command him to execute. When Zelopa saw him in that fury; What am I the better (said she) for all these protestations, since they prove at last but false hopes and vaine words, whilst another is plac'd in the throne, and solely acknowledged for Zabaims wife? She must likewise onely enjoy you, or if I doe, 'tis fit, I see no more such a difference betwixt her and me as may make me justly doubt of your affection. Ah Zelopa, (replied Zabaim) you know my love is unfained) and that every moment I lay at your feet those Crownes which Almanzaira weares on her head. If that be not enough, exact from me stronger proofes of it, and he who to please you hath not spar'd his owne Son, will not stick at things of lesse moment. Put therefore out of my thoughts the displeasing object of Almanzaira's happinesse, (replied Zelopa) and let not my love have any more the affliction to be crossed by so powerfull a Rivall. Zabaim contented, if not to the death, at lest to the banishment of his wife. But when it came to the point of pronouncing the Sentence, he was strooke with an ex­treme remorse, and would not have Zelopa's Instruments employed in that Commis­sion. He chose one of his Gentlemen, whose age and vertue assured him he would ac­quit himselfe of it with as much addresse as modesty. Him he sent to the Queen, who since the losse of her Son, was falne into such a strange disease, as she had scarce strength to stand, and yet was it impossible for her to endure either lying or sitting; she was walking in her Palace-garden, when Zucalin, (so was the discreet Gentleman called) came to her. Assoone as she saw him, you are welcome, said she, and pronounce boldly by what death Zelopa would have me end my miserable life. Madam, (replied Zuca­lim) that is hapned at last which all good people forelaw. Ordinary crimes have drawn on extraordinary; and the love of a Strumpet after it had quench'd that which Zabaim ought you, now enforceth him to account you for his Enemy. O heaven! cried the Queene at that word of Enemy, doth the King then beleeve after so many proofes of my obedience and love, that 'tis possible for me to hate him? Yes Madam, (said Zuca­lin) He beleeves you plot against his life, and use all kinde of meanes to oblige his sub­jects to take Armes against him. Almanzaira could not answer to that supposition, but lifting her eyes to heaven; Thou knowest it, infinite Intelligence, who seest the hearts and thoughts of all men, thou knowest it, said she, weeping: Yet avenge not that ca­lumny laid on me, for I feare Zabaim may be compris'd in the punishment. Zucalin ad­miring the resignation and vertue of Almanzaira, told her, he had an expresse com­mand to see her out of Senega, and to conduct her to Melly. Do you imagine whether these newes might touch her? Yet she received them with a constancy which seem'd insensible of all kinds of persecutions. But when Zucalin told her she was to prepare for her departure: How (said she) shall I not be permitted to see yet my Lord once more? and be able to assure him in my leave-taking, that not onely banishment, but even death would be welcome to me, if he had commanded it. Madam, (replied Zu­calin) that contentment is taken from you, till your Innocency after better examina­tion be generally knowne. Ah Zucalin! (said the Queene) 'tis not credible that the King feares my Innocency. But I can yet well undergoe that last of misfortunes for his sake. After that, she went to a Chariot, which to that end attended her at one of the Palace [...]tes, and entring it, was with a Guard conducted to the frontiers of Melly. She [...] [...]o sooner gone from Senega, but Zabaim and Zelopa made their entry there [Page 59] as in triumph, and within a few dayes after the blinded Zabaim was publiquely marri­ed to his Sorceresse: and not onely caused her to be crowned Queen of all his Realmes but declar'd that the children he should have by her, should be the onely lawfull Inheri­tors. At that word Almaid turning to Polexander: Since you knew the false Alman­zor (said he) I doubt not but you have heard how six months after the crowning of Zelopa, she was brought to bed of him, and in her lying in, receiv'd a discontent, which in all likelihood she could not expect from Zabaim, if Almanzaira had been as deere to him as she was before her banishment. The King of his absolute authority, and may be to testifie to his Subjects he yet remembred and affected Almanzaira, would have Ze­lopa's son to bear the name of Almanzor. The tears, the prayers, & the fury of that cruell & ambitious wretch, could not alter his resolution. She was forc'd to let her Son carry the name of her mortall Enemy, and to avoid by that little disgrace those greater which threatned her. This rebellion of Zabaims will contrary to hers, made her verily beleeve that so long as Almanzaira liv'd, her name would never be blotted out of that Princes memory. She therefore stood no longer trifling out time, but resolved to make her a­way, and to that end gave an accursed Commission to such as she thought fit for such an imployment. But Almanzaira having twice or thrice escaped the knife, and doubly the poyson, after neere fifteene yeeres of imprisonment, was advised by her most af­fectionate Servants to free her selfe from Zelopa's fury, and by a feigned death to di­vert a true one. Zucalin (who by Zabaims expresse command had her alwayes in guard) thought notwithstanding all his care and precautions, she would at last fall into Zelopa's traps, and he was the first who gave her that judicious counsell. She consented to him, and after a sicknesse of some forty dayes, which was not counterfeited, but in the suc­cesse, the report went that Almanzaira was dead. Her women (who the better to de­ceive others, were the first deceiv'd) so lamented her losse in speech and behaviour, that in seeing them Zelopa's Spies and the Queens Enemies could no more doubt of her death. At that very time I came to Melly, and confirming the Princesse in her resolu­tion, I got her by night into my ship, and brought her into the Island we now came from. In the meane time Posts were sent to Zabaim to give notice of the Queenes death; and the more to beguile him, a supposed corps was brought to Senega with all royall pomp and Ceremony. Every one bewail'd her death, and the King himselfe ac­knowledging a part of his faults, gave the Herse such honours, as would have madded Zelopa to have seene them bestowed on Almanzaira alive. Let us leave Zabaim in his just teares, and [...]erpassing all the revolts and warres which follow'd the Queenes suppo­sed death, return[?] we to the young Almanzor, who, with my selfe, fled from the fury of his father and his future step-mother. After our ship had sayled all the rest of the day and the following night, I thought the young Prince could not (without an extraor­dinary mischance) fall into the hands of those whom Zelopa had sent to retake him. I therefore bethought me to finde out some place of safety where I might have him bred up while Zabaim's want of understanding kept him from the knowledge of his errors. I was oftentimes tempted to land in Guinea, but I straight called to minde, Zelopa was there exceedingly belov'd, by reason of the great priviledges she had obtain'd for all that Countrey: and therefore to keepe him safe, 'twas fittest to carry him into some regi­on whose name his cruell Enemy had not so much as ever heard of. But that eternall Providence which is not lesse pitifull then cleere-sighted, tooke me from my superflu­ous care, and let me know, that as Almanzor's birth was the worke of its hands, so would it not that his preservation should be imputed to any other. Our calme was there­fore turn'd into a furious storme, and after ten dayes danger we were freed from it by shipwrack. Farre from the Countries warred by our fertile and delicious Senega, is a Kingdome which on the East hath th' Estate of Biafar, and the deserts of Borea. On the West it is bounded by Guinea, on the North by the wildernesse of Zanfra, and on the South by the Ocean. 'Twas on the rocks which seemed to defend the entrance into the Country that our ship split, and cast us, as I may say, into the armes of a King, who by his excellent qualities and vertues more then mortall, justly merited the title of a Deity which his people gave him, if it be lawfull to communicate to man a prerogative which befits none but him that made them. When I perceiv'd our vessell was ready to run on [Page 60] the rocks of that coast I caused Almanzor's Nurse to be bound fast on a bundle of Corke, and commanded the strongest of my Mariners not to forsake her, but to strive by his utmost power to bring her to shore. For mine owne part, I tooke the little Prince, either to save him by swimming or to dye with him, and with no more trouble expected the wrack which in all likelihood our ship could not escape. Presently our Ma­riners perceiv'd we were running on the rocks which lay even with the water, and cri­ed out we were all lost. They spake parrly true, for our vessell being (I may say) mi­raculously thrust in betweene two rocks, opened by the sides, and yet stuck so fast that it could not finke, nor yet be carried away by the waves. Those whom the feare of death depriv'd of their judgement, threw themselves into the Sea to get to land which was very neere, but they were almost all broken on the rocks. After I saw the strange­nesse of our shipwrack, I lifted mine eyes to heaven, and presenting the young Alman­zor to the Divinity which inhabits there, beg'd for his preservation by the vertues and teares of his mother, and my prayer was heard assoone as ended. The winds which al­wayes obey the will of him that sends them, having executed the command imposed on them, retired to their place of rest and gave some quiet to the Sea. This while the water had gotten into all under hatches, and as the waves broake on the rocks they arose up even to our feet, but straight retiring they seem'd to acknowledne certaine unknown bounds which they were not permitted to passe. I commanded our Mariners to make a little wa [...]t of the best plancks of the ship to carry Almanzor and his Nurse on shore. 'Twas very hard for them to doe what I commanded, the Sea having swallowed all things necessary for that worke. Yet they set to it as well as they could, and in lesse then two houres had fitted somewhat, capable to hold five or sixe persons. They lanch'd it, and two of them getting on it with oares tried the hazard, and carried on shore what the Sea had left us. They return'd quickly, and assuring me there was no danger to be run, I caus'd the Nurse to goe on, and then came my selfe with the little Prince, and so were happily landed. Our Mariners return'd with their waft, but came not so back, for they fell unluckily on the point of a rock, and were compelled for their safety to betake them to their swimming. My care of preserving Almanzor making me forget all other, I tooke him in mine armes, and to discover some place of retreate, went from the Sea with his Nurse and my slaves. I had not gone two hundred paces, when I descried a troupe of men which seem'd to come right towards me. I stood not to think whether that meeting might be favourable to me, but instantly giving thanks to my invisible Conductor, I kept on my way, and staid not till the Abyssins commnaded me to cast mine eyes to the ground. That commandement had not so surpris'd me as it did, had I knowne where the tempest had throwne me, but being ignorant of the cause of that Ceremony, I at first made some difficulty to submit to it. At last the number of those which environ'd me, and for the Princes sake I became obedient. Wee laid us on the earth, the Nurse, my servants and my selfe, and so staid till by another order they made us arise. I cast mine eyes on him that was neerest to me, and knew him for the same Abrinzias King of Benin, to whom I had beene sent Embassadour a little before the Queenes marriage. I fell on my knees, to observe the custome of his Subjects who hold him for a god, as I have told you, and shewing him the young Almanzor: See (said I) a Prince who conducted by that eternall Power which you represent on earth, is come to cast himselfe into yourhands, to be warranted from the cruelty of his enemies. Doe him the same favour you did in times past to his father; and make it appeare by a gracious intertaining, that on just cause your Subjects call you the defender of oppres­sed Innocency. After Abrinzias had heard me with all the debonarity I could expect from him, he alighted from his Elephant, and taking me apart, entreated me to tell him who I was, whence I came, and whose childe it was which I presented to him. I sa­tisfied his demands; and gave him such an affright and terrour at the repetition o [...] Zabaim's extravagancies, that falling on his knees, and lifting his eyes and hands to­wards the Sun: Thou still-waking eye (cryed he) of that Divinity whose shadow I am, and nomore, irreproachable witnesse of all the actions of men, call me to judgement before the throne of eternall Justice, and deny me thy pure light, if ever the tyran­ny of sense, or the weakenesse of spirit force me to the like brutishnesse. After he had [Page 61] made this holy protestation, he tooke the young Almanzor, and holding him in his armes: Yes, mercifull heaven, (said he) I receive as from thy hands the prefe [...] thou sendest me by this stranger; and subscribing with joy to the decrees of thy will, I will be this Innocents father, and betwixt him and my Son divide all my love and care. With these words he delivered me againe the young Prince, and intimating to me how happy he thought him selfe in finding so faire an occasion to exercise his charity, entrea­ted me to follow him. He commanded one of his Camels for baggage, to be given to the Princes Nurse, and would have her still before him. We rode till Sun-set, and then came to a royall house, which is Abrinzia's usuall aboade, when the necessities of his State, and the love of his people permit him to leave the City, and in retirednesse to taste the delights of a Private man. I will not relate to you with what care that good King caused the young Almanzor to be bred: but will onely say, he respected and con­sidered him as his owne Son, and the vertuous Andromeda his wife, finding in him those causes of satisfaction which she met not in the person she had brought into the world, would even have given him the first place in her love, if the feare of heaven had not obliged her to observe the order of Nature, and not to bestow that on a stranger, which was onely due to the childe of the family. Almanzor's youth was as noble and faire as the Prince of Benin's was insupportable. Perseus (so was he called) had a melancholy accompanied with a brutish fury, which made him not onely incapable of submitting himselfe to his Governours or to the King his father; but so awkeward and indisposed to all exercises both of minde and body, that it seem'd, heaven having so much exhausted its treasure at the birth of Almanzor, had reserved nothing for that of Pers [...]. This which I have spoken (if you please) shall suffice, for the first foureteene yeares of A [...] ­life. Come we to the fifteenth, and by the apprentiship of his val [...] judge what this Ma­ster-peeces should be. In the season wherein the Sun swerves from the Equi [...]tiall line to get up to the Tropique of Cancer, there rush'd out of the Deserts of Zan [...]ra a pro­digious Serpent, which having laid waste the Territory of Guangara, by the death of more then a thousand men, made himselfe an entry into the kingdome of Benin. He came on even to the gates of the City Budis, and marching as a hardy and judicious Conquerour, came the soonest he could to the City of Benin, as if he would have pre­sented battle to the King himselfe. He utterly left desolate all those Provinces through which he had pass'd by the justice of heaven. The people assembled and armed them­selves against this Monster as against a common enemy, but their resistance was vaine; for that puissant adversary overthrew whosoever presented himselfe before him. No arrowes so great or weighty or sharpe soever could pierce him, and there was no better way found by any for their security then to shut themselves up in townes. After he had made a generall havock through the Kingdome, he set him downe in the territory of Benin. The wood and fountaine of the Sun he chose for his usuall abode; and, as if he had beene satisfied with his Conquests and would now stop their progresse, he stirr'd not more away farre from a place the most holy & most religiously kept in all the Estate of Benin. From time to time he came even to the Towne Gates, and kept the King in a manner besieged within his walls, and wholly interdicted the peoples commerce and exercise. In the meane time the devoute. Abrinzias, contemplating that Monster as a scourge which heaven would make use of for the chastisement of his offences, thought this persecution would not cease but by a publique penitence. He had therefore recourse to those remedies which were taught him by that eternall Law which the most barba­rous have graven in their hearts. He wept, he fasted, he punish'd himselfe for his people; he added publique processions and solemne sacrifices to his private devotions, and re­claiming the people from their Luxury and debauches, went himselfe every where preaching teares, repentance and amendment. Whilst all the Court was in prayers and mortification, a valiant and generous Knight had an intent to fight with that Monster. He was called Bellerophon, and had gotten so great a reputation through all Africa, [...] 'twas held for impossible, that which he could not execute. At all points arm'd he rode out of Benin, mounted on an excellent horse, and resolv'd to dye or to deliver his Coun­trey from that terrible slavery. The people drawne by the hope of their safety, fol­lowed that generous warrier, but at sight of the Monster, feare freezing their bloud [Page 62] made them abandon their deliverer, and shut them up againe within their walls. Belle­rophon was left alone, and his courage encreasing by the generall affright, he went to search for his enemie even among the Palme trees, wherewith it seem'd he would crowne himselfe. The Serpent not being now so eager at his prey as he was at first, would scarce lift up his head when he saw Bellerophon; but by some hissings contented himselfe to make appeare how much he contemn'd his adversary. Bellerophon came on for all the turbulency and furious frightments of his horse, and making use of his agility in shooting, answer'd the hissings of the Monster with those of his arrowes. But none of his shafts could wound him; He was every where invulnerable. Yet Bellerophon gave not over shooting, but hitting him above the eye, made him reare up his red and blew crest, which made on his head a kinde of a crowne, and to unfold all those great circles in which he seem'd to have insconc'd himselfe. He suddenly darted himselfe on Bellerophon, and had infallibly inwrap'd him, but for the extraordinary leape, which (out of feare) the warrior's horse made. The Knight seeing his Steed unserviceable, a­lighted, cast his horse off, approach'd the enraged Serpent, and by a good hap (worthy his courage) with an arrow which strooke out his right eye, we learnt the Serpent was not invulnerable. But alas! that knowledge was dearely sold, for Bellerophon could not avoid the coming to gripes with the Monster. 'Twas related to Abrinzias that the bold Knight defended himselfe to the death, and though the Serpent had en­folded his armes and legs, he made him feele the weight of his blowes; but his resistance was all in vaine, for he was torne in pieces (for all his Armes) and devour'd by the Mon­ster. This strange accident fill'd all the towne of Benin with desolation and feare. Al­manzor was with Andromeda when the newes came of Bellerophon's death. He had ever dearely lov'd that Knight, being as his companion in all his exercises. You may imagine whether he were mov'd at his losse. Truly he was so much, that it drew teares from him. But his love not being satisfied with these demonstrations, made him resolve on others more worthy his valour and the memory of Bellerophon. He therefore prepar'd him to avenge his death; and his high Spirit carying him to great undertakings, he would by so faire an occasion give a beginning to the miracles of his life. The generous Prince would willingly have communicated his designe to me, but imagining I would not ap­prove of it, he conceal'd it from me; and one day secretly withdrawing himselfe (un­knowne to any man) he went to finde out that dreadfull Serpent even among the Palme trees, and to fight with him, took only his sword, his bow and his arrowes. You wil hardly give credit to what I must relate, though there is nothing more true. Almanzor went alone into the wood of the Sun, approacht the Serpent with an heroicall confi­dence, look'd on his hugenesse and deformity without astonishment, and by his noise calling him to the combat, by some arrowes he let flye towards his den would give him time to defend himselfe. The Monster animating him by beating the earth with his tayle, rays'd his crown'd head, and throwing at once venome and fire from his eyes, made the Cedars and Palmes to tremble againe. Almanzor stood firme, and with him­selfe consulted how he might best encounter that monstrous adversary. Straight he nock'd an arrow, and lifting his eyes to heaven, I doe what I can, (said he) doe thou the rest, and let thy powerfull hand conduct the shaft which mine lets goe at hazard. He was heard. That arrow was so well guided, that it pierced the Monsters tongue, and there stuck fast. The next was more fortunately addressed. It strooke out the other eye, and with the meanes of bringing himselfe on, tooke that away of his defence. Alman­zor mark'd what he had done, and doubting no longer of his victory, shun'd the grapling of the blinded Serpent. After he had long time fought with the trees, and his rage tur­ning on himselfe, had extreamely weakened him by his owne blowes, he lay extended on the earth, and discovered a part of his white and yellow panch. Almanzor perceiving so fit a marke for his arrowes, shot him through, and left not till he laid him dead. When he was secure of his victory, he went out of the wood, and after his thanks to heaven, and vow, to hang his bow and arrowes with the Serpents skin, he return'd to the City, and told all those he met, there was no more to be feared, for the Serpent was dead. Whilst the better hearted went to see whether Almanzor spake truth, he came to the Palace, and there found every body much troubled about him. He presented him­selfe [Page 63] to Abrinzias, and falling at his feet: Sir, (said he) I humbly beseech your Majesty to pardon the fault I have commited; I come from the fountaine of the Sun, and the Serpent is dead. Imagine Polexander how Abrinzias was affrighted, though he saw Al­manzor unhurt. He enquir'd who had advis'd him to fight with the Serpent, and who went with him to that Enterprise. Bellerophon's death (replied he sighing) drew me to revenge it. I could not live, and suffer the murtherer of my friend to survive him. Heaven hath favoured me so much as to acquit the debt I owed him. Abrinzias lifted up his eyes with admiration and joy, and to satisfie his curiosity, asked Almanzor how all things had hapned. He related it to him, as I have to you; but it was with so much modesty, that Abrinzias foreseeing then what Almanzor hath done since: My Son, (said he) imbracing him, search out new Kingdomes and Provinces worthy thy valour. This little corner of Africa deserves not to containe thee. With that he brought him to the Queene, and recounting so heroicall an action, oblig'd her to shed at once both teares of joy and sorrow; the one for her love to Almanzor, and the other for that of her owne Son. The excesse of Abrinzia's contentment made him not forget what he owed to his people. He sent his Heraulds through the towne, not onely to publish the Ser­pents death which had so much annoy'd them, but to make knowne to all, the Author of their deliverance and the publique happinesse; and after that, went out of the towne, waited on by all the Court, and most of the people, and so came where the Serpent lay slaine. The multitude not forgetting their old use, appear'd very hardy where there was no danger; and running on the dead Monster, cut him in pieces; and by that meanes, made Almanzor but imperfectly performe the vow he had made. But whilst the peo­ple made themselves sport with their dead Enemy, and vented all their fury on his skin, Almanzor bewail'd the death of Bellerophon, and in a generous piety gathered up his bones and broken armes scattered through the wood, and giving both the one and the o­ther to his particular friends, follow'd them himself to a place fit to preserve the reliques & memory of that valiant Knight. The good Abrinzias was much mov'd to see so many verall vertues breake forth of tha [...] young Prince, and had esteem'd himselfe the happi­est of Kings, but that the defects o [...] his owne Son, and his vicious inclinations cut from him the best part of his happinesse. But heaven, who would recompence in the person of Almanzor the injury it had done him in that of Perseus, gave him every day new causes to blesse the arrivall of my Prince, and to forget the imperfections of the legiti­mate, through the admirable qualities of the adopted. But while Almanzor liv'd the joy of the people of Benin, the admi [...]ation of the rest of Africa, the envy of all generous Princes, and that the greatest Potentates sent Ambassadors to Abrinzias, to rejoyce with him for Almanzor's honour, and the delivery of his Countrey: the ambition of Spaine, an enemy to all mens quiet, which runs through Sea and land to drive thence both peace and liberty, came unfortunately to disturbe the delights of the best King in the world. Vasquez de Gama, Generall of the Portugall Fleet, returning from Cale­cut, was by a storme driven into the River of Benin. In lieu of leaving to the Inhabitants that peace he found there, he landed out of his ships men more cruell then the Serpent which Almanzor had slaine. That young Prince hearing of the Portugals i [...]rode, ran to oppose them, and by his exploits then, made appeare yet farre more then by his first combat, that he was borne for the ruine and extirpation of Monsters. I, in that adven­ture followed him, but was so unfortunate as to be taken by the Portugals, and carried prisoner into Gama's ship. I offred him gold and pearles for my ransome, and even told him I was Abrinzia's brother, and omitted nothing of what might make him capable of a resolution to set me at liberty. But the losse of his best Souldiers, and the dishonor to be beaten back againe to shipping by Almanzor, working him to a revenge, made him inexorable. The night after his defeate he weigh'd Anchor, and unmov'd by my teares and supplications, carried me into Spaine, and presented me to the King his Ma­ster for Abrinzia's brother. Those three yeares I passed in that servitude., hindred me from being a spectator of Almanzor's great adventures. But heaven infallibly permit­ted it for some good; and if I deceive not my selfe, to the end my Prince living un­knowne to himselfe as well as to his Enemies, might retard their ruine without taking paines for his owne. Know then, after he had repuls'd the Portugals, and seene their [Page 64] ships farre from the coasts of Benin, he muster'd his men; but finding me wanting, he was so afflicted, and witnessed such resentments as I shall never recompence by any ser­vice, or the losse of my life. A hundred times exclaim'd he on his fortune, cast his armes away, and running where the slaughter had beene greatest, searched all the dead, to see whether I were of their number. But not finding me, he ran to the Sea; and his griefe transporting him: Theeves and villaines, cried he to the Portugals, give me back Almaid; and if your avarice cannot be satisfied by an ordinary ransome, I engage my selfe to conquer for you all the golden countrey for the liberty of my second father. But in uneffectuall petitions I lose that time which I should imploy for Almaids redempti­on. Therewithall he sent a servant of his to Abrinzias, to advertise him of my losse, and to beseech him humbly, he would be pleased to command the Royall vessell to be made ready and arm'd to pursue those who had carried me away prisoner. That ship was carefully kept in the River of Benin, and as a thing consecrated to their Deity, was not us'd but to saile some dayes in the yeare, to carry those offerings which the Crowne of Benin owed to the great Temple of Congo. Almanzor went to the Captaine of that ship, and perswading him, that the succouring of the miserable, and giving liberty to those which had lost it, was a pleasing Offering to heaven, obliged him to arme his vessell, and keepe it ready to weigh Anchor assoone as the Kings permission came to him. The very same day leave came, and though Abrinzias writ to Almanzor, not to hazard him­selfe in that voyage, yet he imbark'd himselfe, and followed the Portugals. His ship being not so good a sayler, nor so well governed as those he chased, could never fetch them up. But on the contrary, in the first tempest being forsaken by the Pilot, he was eight or ten dayes at the mercy of the Sea, and at last ran on a bank on a coast farre distant from that of Benin. Almanzor saved himselfe in a little boate that was in the ship, and armed with his usuall armour, landed on that unknowne shore. No sooner was he on land, but he saw himselfe environed with many armed men, who infallibly taking him for another, cast themselves at his feet, and shew'd by their clapping of hands, and their shouts, they were exceedingly delighted. The most apparent of the Troupe, standing a while as ravish'd with admiration or joy; Welcome, (said he) O most happily return'd is this worthy Prince, which was borne for the safety of Nations, for the destruction of Tyrants, and the protection of the afflicted. O my deare Country, dry thy teares, revive thy hopes, acknowledge thy happinesse, behold thy tutesar An­gel; and come meet this powerfull defender, who is going to pluck thy Princes out of Captivity, and breake the chaines of their servitude. Almanzor was much surpris'd with this mans acclamations, and to know the cause of it, would not take him out of that error. On the contrary, he entreated him to relate what had hapned; who were the enemies he was to fight with? and what was become of those should defend them? Great Prince, (replied the man) I should be too tedious if I recounted to you all the mi­series that have betided us since your absence. Know that the untameable King of Tombut, the furious tyrant of Temian, and the hardy Prince of Agadez, renewing the wars they had other times begun out of meere ambition, and yet under pretext of a­venging our first Queene, came thundring on this Kingdome with a powerfull Army, and to make the people revolt, publish'd all about, that the King by the advice of the Queen now reigning, had caus'd his first wife to be poysoned, and poniarded his Son. My King (who without flattery hath all the qualities of a great Prince) did what he could to repell force by force, but seeing himselfe forsaken by most of his Subjects, he was constrain'd to shut himselfe up in a strong place he hath on the River of Senega, and to expect there the aide was coming to him from Melley and Guinea. That succour was vainely look'd for; for the Kings fault, which grew not out of mens memories, and his second marriage, which was contracted by a murther and a sacriledge, were the rea­sons why no body would take Armes for our defence. The King seeing himselfe out of hope to be relieved, resolved to dye like a man of valour. He made a salley on his enemies; but after he had lost many of his people, and received divers great wounds, he was taken, and ignominiously led before the King of Tombut. Zelopa, so is our Queen called, advertis'd of that mischance, did not what another wife would have done. She had no recourse to teares and cryes, but got out of her Palace with a manlike heart, and [Page 65] taking the place of the King her husband, made a speech to the people and souldiers, and wonne them to a defence even till death. The Enemy in the meane time sent her a Herauld, and word, that if within eight dayes she resolv'd not to render her selfe to their discretion, they would cut off the Kings head. Those eight dayes expire to mor­row. Judge my Lord, if hitherto we have not had great cause of affliction, and seeing you return'd, whether we have not more reason to rejoyce. The man thus ending his discourse, besought Almanzor to take some course instantly for the safty of his father and mother. Almanzor somewhat troubled with the novelty of this adventure, knew not what to resolve; but his innate generosity dissipating all those cloudy, made him see how honourable this occasion might be to him, and the interest he had, not to dis­beguile those who tooke him for what he was not. He resolv'd therefore to assist the imprisoned King, and the afflicted Lady, and intimating so much to the person who en­tertain'd me: Let's goe then (said he) where the Kings enemies are, and see by what way we may attempt his delivery. The man (after he had kiss'd his hand) replied; I see already the King my Masters fortune begin to alter. His long prosperities are reviving, and the Enemies of his glory shall not triumph over it unpunished. When he had thus witnessed his joy, he directed Almanzor how he was to demeane himselfe, and without surther delay, led him with his companions to the place where Zelopa was besieged. On the way Almanzor let him know his error, told him he was the King of Benins Son, and taking the name of him whom he thought his brother, called himselfe Perseus. The man, not caring much by whom, so his King were redeem'd, made Almanzor to goe on day and night. Their journey was so fortunate, that they entred Senega undiscovered by their Enemies. Almanzor sent his Guide to Zelopa to intimate his arrivall, and he found her very sad, but very resolute, and capable to suffer greater disasters then those which encompassed her. With an extreame joy she heard the newes of Almanzors coming, and the good opinion given her, made her conceive an exceeding great hope of assistance from him. She sent the Captain of her Guard to meet him, and well knowing how to accommodate her proud nature to the necessity of her occasions, she went her selfe so farre as into the Presence to give Almanzor the more honour. She was very well followed, and very richly clad for one in mourning. She courteously welcom'd the Prince, and with so many kindnesses that had he not beene preoccupated by a secret aversion, which he could not be rid of, it had beene a hard matter for him not to be caught by her blandishments. But that just and powerfull Antipathy making him see a great deale of pride and lasciviousnesse in all the Queens words and actions, he staid not with her longer then was time to take advise, and resolve for his combat with one of the Enemy Kings. At breake of the next day, he sent one of Zelop [...]'s Heraulds to defie the King of Tombut; and with the challenge, to present him the conditions of the combat. That King who had caused himselfe to be named Indomptable, because he had never beene conquer'd; was ravish'd at Almanzors proposition; and thinking himselfe already victorious, told the Herauld he should let his Mistris know, he tooke an exceeding content in hearing she resolv'd to make an end of the siege and warre by so quick a way. But (said he) tell her, she must not hope that after my victory I will take notice of her teares, nor hearken to her petitions or any her other subtleties. She must dye with her husband, and expiate by fire the murthers they have committed to­gether. To the Prince of Benin, say too, I make profession of keeping my word, and if the chance of warre give him the advantage over me, I will not onely set Zabaim at liberty, but my brothers and my selfe (burying for ever all memory of things passed) will presently returne into our Countries. The Herauld came back to Zelopa and Al­manzor, and relating the successe of his negotiation, they thought presently of putting it in execution. At the time prefix'd, Zelopa's troupe came out of Senega, and ranging themselves in battle array before the Enemies army, both parties stood on their guard Presently were seene a troupe of Archers, who conducting Zabaim to the end of the field, bound him with his hands behinde his back to a post, and made the hangman sit downe at his feet, who with an Axe which he carried on his shoulder was to cut off his head. Almanzor incensed with that spectacle, came out of Senega, and in a little time after appear'd on the place for the combat. The King of Tombut straight followed. [Page 66] You well know after what sort a very valiant man dispatcheth such a businesse; and therefore I will not trouble you with the particulars of that which passed in this occa­sion. The King of Tombut did as much as a man could doe who had term'd himselfe Indomptable. Yet his great courage in this combat met not that successe it had found in some preceding: for he was compelled to give place to the valour of a youth of six­teene yeares, and to receive from his generosity that life which he could not preserve by his armes. He question'd heaven for his bad fortune, accus'd it for protecting of inju­stice, and charg'd it with reserving its greatest ability for the defence of the most impi­ous actions. But this miscreant was deceiv'd in his apparances, and the blasphemies he vomited against the order of the eternall Justice, were but signes of the indignation he tooke at his disgrace, and not any proofes of love he bore to Equity. Almanzor very generously treated him, after he had overcome him, and bearing apart in his affliction as well as in his paine, intreated him not onely to make it appeare on this occasion, that he was worthy the title of Indomptable, but also to suspend all his resentments to give satisfaction to his word. I will doe it (answered the King) and in case my faith had not beene engaged, I would have submitted all my just choler to your courtesie. Truly Fame hath beene ingratefull and jealous for concealing so extraordinary a valour as yours; for mine owne part, I finde a consolation for my defeate in the glory of its Author: and I should thinke it most precious to me could I acquire so noble a friend. I will never re­fuse (replied Almanzor) a condition so advantageous to me, I rather beg your amity, and intreat you in giving of mine, not to thinke on this day, but to remember you have overcome me. I am too happy, replied the King of Tombut, and would beleeve I had not bought your friendship with a valuable price, if I had not laid downe for it all my reputation. After this contract of love, the two Princes embrac'd, and by that action gave occasion of different thoughts, not onely to the King who was so ignomi­niously bound, but also to the two Armies, and all those who from the wals of Senega had beene Spectators of the combat. Assoone as those two Princes had ended their complements, they cast their eyes on the unfortunate Zabaim; and, as if already they had but one will, went to set that captive King at liberty. Assoone as they came, they commanded thence the Guard and Executioner; and Almanzor looking on the unfor­tunate Zabaim with a great deale of pity, wept almost all the while he was unbinding him. He consider'd him often, and his good nature making him partaker of the Kings ill fortunes: Remember (said he) that Justice which reignes in heaven can aswell chastise Kings as other men. Your afflictions shall have done you good service, if they can make you call to accompt the state of your conscience, and winne you to a serious considera­tion & hatred together of your former life. Pardon me, Sir, the liberty I take, and do not think, I would wrong your present condition because I have saved your life; or as your Enemies, triumph on your misery. I doe no lesse esteeme you tied to this shamefull post, then if you were seated in your throne; but that which gives me the boldnesse to deliver my thoughts to you, is a desire I have, you may henceforward live happy, and by a true change of life avert the vengeance of heaven which yet groanes over your head. Zabaim, to these words answered nothing, but holding his eyes fixed on the earth, con­fessed by his silence the enormity of his faults. Almanzor having wholly unbound him, brought him to the three Kings, who presently restor'd his royall robe, Almanzor put on his Diadem with his owne hands, and the peace being presently proclaimed, the gates of Senega were set open. Those who had beene such deadly foes imbrac'd each other, and made appeare by so quick a change, that the Subject hath neither hatred nor love but when they are forced to those passions by those who command them. Zelopa came downe from the wall, (from whence she had beheld what was pass'd) and came to meet the King. The King of Tombut who could not forget his causes of hatred, intreated Almanzor not to engage him to see her, who thinking his request very just, not onely consented he should retire into his campe, but accompanying him to his tent, intreated his wounds might be search'd: He saw them dress'd, and being assured they were not dangerous, tooke his leave of the King, after he had by many vowes renewed the assu­rance of his friendship. He return'd to Zabaim, (who was in great care for him) and reconducting the King to his Palace, through the applauses and acclamations of the [Page 67] people, besought him to have perpetually in minde the businesse of that day. Po­lexander not able to abide longer in that impatiency Almaid's relation gave him: What? (said he) intetrupting him, Is this Zabaim of whom you talke the same whose adventures the Queen hath bin pleas'd to make known to me? The very same (answered Almaid) and judge whether Almanzor did not gloriously avenge himself (unwittingly) on that ingratefull and unnaturall father, who would have murther'd him in his cradle. Almanzaira could not refraine from teares at those words, but pleas'd her selfe in ex­haling her griefes by her weeping and sighes. Almaid perceiving Polexanders astonish­ment; That which you have heard of Almanzor (said he) is well, but 'tis nothing in comparison of what you are to know: you shall see this out-cast Sonne give twenty times life to his Father for that one which he would have taken away; and not onely re-establish him in all his estates, but re-settle in the Throne that Fury who had driven him thence, and robb'd his mother of it. Polexander had yet more questions to aske, but he let them passe for not hindring the contentment he expected from the rest of Almanzors adventures. Almaid perceiv'd his intention and thus went on: For five or sixe dayes together Zabaim seem'd more sad and afflicted then hee was even in his imprisonment, and spoke of nothing but repentance, of change of life, of recal­ling those whom hee had unjustly banished, and banish those whom hee had more un­justly retained. Imagine what thoughts these demeanours might worke in Zelopa, and what revolutions she foresaw in her fortune, if she did not oppose the rebellion of her slave. She did it, (and so effectually) that Zabaim trampling under-foot his word, his honour, and his proper interest, threatned the King of Tombut and his allies; and made insolent protestations, to wash off with their blouds the staine they had cast on his reputation. Whilest he was acting his new extravagances, Zelopa was perpetrating new villanies; she look'd on Almanzor at once with the eyes of concupiscence and ha­tred: she lov'd him for his person and gracefulnesse, but she hated him because she knew 'twas his advise and admirable vertue which troubled the harmony of her designes, and pluck'd off the muffler she had wound over Zabaims eyes. Yet Love preserv'd his Empire, and Ambition reduc'd it to its former servitude, was compell'd (together with hatred and cruelty) to submit to their ancient Conquerour. Zelopa then reconciles her selfe (unwittingly) to her mortall enemy; she adores him whom shee would before time have strangled with her owne hands, and equally sinnes both against heaven and her owne intention. But Almanzor who under the name of Perseus had gotten the love of all Senega, fled from the monster he was not permitted to destroy, and threw himselfe among thornes to avoyd the walking on flowres which hid invulnerable Serpents. Whil'st Zelopa was agitated with this new Fury, there came divers Postes which made her change, or at least suspend her criminall affection. They brought Zabaim newes, that all Guinea had taken armes, that the Kingdome of Melly was ready to denounce warre, and the most part of the Commons of Senega leant to Rebellion: This Adver­tisement was slighted for some few dayes; but that thunder after it had rumbled a­while broke out, and Zabaim saw himselfe reduced to the estate of being King of one onely Towne. Almanzor got into the field and sent Couriers to the King of Tombut to intreate him to keep his word: that King forgetting Zabaims follies, came to assist him for Almanzor's sake, and brought with him a mighty Army, whereby the Rebelis of Senega were quickly brought backe to subjection. Assoone as Zabaim had left his wicked Angell, that great courage of his manifested it selfe, with which hee had con­quered the halfe of Africke. His wisdome accompanied his valour, and even made the King of Tombut to admire him; whithersoever he marched he became victorious, and Almanzor farre more affecting fame then spoyle or prey, gloriously out-went the steps of his Father; in one same day, he redeem'd the King of Tombut whom the Rebells had taken prisoner, and dis-ingag'd Zabaim, who having lost his horse and armes, was going to satiate the fury of his rebellious Subjects. A few dayes after this glorious acti­on, Zabaim was inforc'd to resolve on a battle; the revolted were joyn'd, and had composed an army able to amate such hearts as had not beene truely couragious. But Almanzor representing to Zabaim and the King of Tombut the fortune and honour of their former actions, made them contemne the great number of their Enemies. The [Page 68] battle was fought, and prov'd so bloudy, that from both sides there dyed on the place fourescore thousand men. That memorable day, Almanzor sav'd his fathers life five times, and twice the King of Tombuts; the better cause at last had the victory, and by an entire defeate of the rebellious party, corfirm'd that important verity (which sayes) The Power of Kings is a Power derived from above: and that the bonds which binde Subjects to their duties being made by the proper hand of heaven, cannot be broken without violating the divine Lawes as well as humane. This battle intombing all the Rebels of Senega, did the like to the Rebellion; all the Townes rendred themselves to their former obedience, and that commotion being of the nature of those tempests which happen in the fame Climat, was as short as it was violent: Zabaim seeing him­selfe more absolute in his Realmes then he was before the revolt, would a while enjoy the peace he had restored to his Subjects, to go all fresh and unroyled into Guinea, and by the ruine of all those Tyrants, who had divided his Empire, preserve what appertain'd to him by his right of Conquest. Hee brought with him to Senega (to refresh them­selves) the King of Tombut and Almanzor, but hee gave them new perplexities, in thinking to bring them to their repose: Zelopa was to them an object of horrour and hatred; and though they look'd on her very differingly, yet they found there the same defects and the same crimes. But she who was no lesie bewitch'd by the beauty of Al­manzor then Zabaim was by hers, could not suppresse her heat in reseeing him: she wel­com'd him with all such kindnesses as were able to make Zabaim jealous, if his eyes had not been inchanted as well as his other senses; she call'd him her sonne and her defen­der, and her disordinate passion depriving her of reason, she fell about his neck; What (said she) can I neither give nor refuse this brave Warriour, by whose valour I enjoy my Crowne, enjoy Zabaim, and enjoy my selfe? Almanzor not being able to indure those derestable pratings, wrested himselfe by force out of her armes; and to make her asham'd, Remember (said he in leaving her) I am not Zabaim: Thou art not indeed, said she with a languishing voyce, but thou art somewhat more. Zabaim heedlesly con­tributed all that remain'd to ruine his wife utterly, and recounting Almanzor's glori­ous actions, threw sulphure and oyle on the fire of that enraged woman: at the sole name of Almanzor, she was taken with tremblings and shiverings; she sigh'd while Za­baim prais'd him, she held her eyes fix'd on him, and from time to time speaking un­seasonably: O my onely deliverer! cry'd she, finish thy worke, and leave not thy glo­ry imperfect; thou hast saved my Lord the King, thou hast restor'd to us a part of our Empire; Goe, and by the ordinary miracles of thy good fortune, ruinate those Tray­tors which are revolted from us. Those words as artificiall as the braine from whence they came, were expounded one way by Zabaim and another by Almanzor; hee grew almost desperate at Zelopa's folly, and to free him from it, intended to abandon Sene­ga; but as he was at the point of parting, divers considerations and some secret power staid him whether he would or no, and upbraided him of cowardize to fly before a wo­man; neverthelesse he was forc'd to take that resolution, and overcomming all those obstacles which oppos'd his departure, he avoyded the precipice whereunto Zelopa's fu­ry had infallibly drawne him. One day meeting him in the great garden of Senega; In humane (said she) which deniest life to thine enemy which begs it of thee, and glo­riest in the destruction of a wretch which implores thee; know that I am in possession of that Empire thou disputest with me, and Kings have not usually resisted my charms. Aske the people of Guinea; consult with those of Melly and Senega, they will tell thee, their Princes have been my slaves, and that the Crownes and Lives of Monarchs depend more servilly on the power of my charmes then on that of Fortune; yet thou flyest me, thou scorn'st me, and (may be) adding indiscretion to insensibility, thou accusest me to Zabaim. Ah cruell Perseus! neglect not thy destiny, make not thy selfe miserable in contemning thy good fortune, and drive not to despaire a creature that sues to thee for pity; I yet beseech thee Perseus, hearken to my supplications, let me adore thee, ac­cept the offering of my selfe which I make thee; the gods whom thou so much fea­rest, and so often namest, have they taught thee to neglect all vowes and sacrifices? looke they of what value the Present is which is offered, and are they not contented with the zeale and heart of their Adorers? Why then dost thou then despise mine? [Page 69] What! insensible man, thou dost not answer me, but deafe as well as blinde, participa­test in nature with those trees which environ thee: but what said I? No, thou too evi­dently makest knowne to me thy cruell intention, I lose my words and time (thou sayest) and thy hatred increasing proportionably with my love, the more I persevere in beseeching thee, the more obstinate art thou in denying me; would to that Spirit which torments me that one day our Destiny might be altered: or at least that my pa­tience might be turn'd into fury! I should then avenge me of thy cruelties, and immo­lating thee to my contemned flames, I would have him for my Sacrifice whom I could not have for mine Idoll. Zelopa thus ending her speech dissolv'd into teares, and went from Almanzor as from an enemy, with whom we are yet loath to breake. The young Prince being not a little mov'd by these shamefull solicitations, call'd to him that high vertue which was so deeply rooted in his heart, and consulting with her on this occasi­on, confess'd he should make him selfe guilty of Zelopa's crimes, if by his absence hee stopped not the course of them: he therefore without taking leave of Zabaim or the King of Tombut, (and heaven which alwayes tends meanes for the execution of good resolutions) was pleas'd he should finde in the mouth of the River of Senega, a ship be­longing to the King of Morocco; in it he imbark'd, and learn't from the Captaine, he was sent by the young Prince of Fez to invite the Princes and Knights of Africa to the Turney which he had undertaken for the honour of Alcidiana. Polexander surpris'd with that name, interrupted Almaid, and vexed either for not being at that meeting, or with the boldnesse of the Prince of Fez; Who (said hee) put that fancy into the Moores head? I cannot tell you that, (reply'd Almaid) for I never enquired after it, but I can relate to you all that passed at the Turney: I beseech you (said Polexander) doe so, and let me know what happy Knight 'twas who preserv'd that faire Queenes honour. 'Twas Almanzor (reply'd Almaid) without any intention to be the man, or without ever seeing or desire to see Alcidiana. He overcame not onely all the African Knights, and many dextrous Spaniards who came thither to defend the beauties of their Ladies, but he so roughly handled the proud Prince of Fez, that 'twas his owne fault if after hee had disarm'd him the tother had not beene brought in case to beg his life from Alman­zor. The Turney being ended, all retyred; our Prince who had made a league of friendship with the Prince of Meda, imbark'd in his ship, and steer'd towards Senega: he related to Meda, that Zabaim was in Guinea, striving to regaine by armes what hee had lost by a revolt, and got that Prince to resolve on that voyage; they arriv'd where Zabaim was on the very point he was about to give battle. They did that day incredible things, and Almanzor (according to his happy fare) came to assist the King when hee was like to be slaine: Zabaim got the victory, but he was so wounded as hee was faine to be carried out of the Field. In all likelihood the joy for the victory and the good successe of businesse should have beene excellent balme to have cured that Prince's wounds; but it happen'd that his suffering himselfe to be transported with paine, me­lancholy and impatiency, they contested with the Physicians and Chirurgions art and the vertue of their remedies: his wounds were invenomed by the troubles of his mind, and grew so worse and worse, that it behoov'd them to carry him farre from the noise of the Army to avoyde a greater mischance: he was brought to the Palace of the an­cient Kings of Guinea, which is built at the bottome of the Straights of Camboës, and for feare lest in his absence the Rebells might make head againe, he appointed Alman­zor in his place, and gave him all the Command he had over his Troopes: Almanzor made so good use of his authority, and by the miracles of his valour so much terrified the enemy, that in lesse then six moneths all Guinea was reconquered, and the name of Za­baim more beloved, or at least more feared, then it had been after his first Conquest. Al­manzor loaden with palmes and honour, left his Army with the King of Tombut and came to Zabaim; he was almost cured, but his melancholy and griefe were not yet suppressed. Long time he embraced Almanzor, and a hundred times call'd him his Son and Protector; but though in outward shew he witnessed an extreame joy, yet he could not bridle his affliction, nor dissemble the griefe that overcame him: Almanzor tooke notice of it, and being once in private with him, besought to make knowne whence proceeded that anxiety and discontent which he strove to conceale from him; I wish [Page 70] (answered Zabaim) you had never beene at Morocco; I foresee such misfortunes as I shall be extreame sensible of, and are already so much the more insupportable to mee since all my foresight can afford no remedy: with that he sighed, and the feare of what might betide so vively touched him, that he could not goe on with his discourse. Al­manzor who lov'd that Prince no lesse then him of Benin, fell at his feet, and intreated him to discover the cause of his sorrow: But Sir (said hee) doe not beleeve I make this Petition to satisfie my curiosity; No, 'tis to offer you all you can expect from a Sonne; leave not then your making use of my service; dispose of my armes and life, if either the one or the other can any wayes redresse your afflictions; and give mee not cause by your refusall, to beleeve that absence and time have lessened your affection. Za­baim after long consultation with himselfe, resolv'd to satisfie Almanzor; Know (said he, sighing) 'tis your consideration afflicts me and not mine owne; I feare the danger whereto I my selfe must expose you; not that I doubt your valour, or have lost the re­membrance of those brave acts you have lately performed; 'tis my love that cannot suffer you to hazard your life againe; hitherto I have given you over freely to your valour and the darts of my enemies; but doe you know why? 'Twas because my fortune was more deare to me then your preservation: but now, since all my Crownes, nay, not my life is nothing so deare to me compar'd with you, I wish you without cou­rage; I hate warre, I detest all quarrells, and in a word, I feare all occasions wherein honour might ingage you. Almanzor containing himselfe in the modesty of a man who hath no great opinion of himselfe, Sir, (said he to the King) if the love you beare mee disquiet you, I beseech you let the same affection free you of that trouble: I desire to be belov'd of you, but 'tis fit (if you please) that your love be peacefull, that it be just; and that it leave all timidities, frailties and vexations, to the passions of that Sex which is compos'd of nothing but feare, weaknesse, and perturbation it selfe: Tell mee there­fore what I have to doe, and what terrible enemy it is that awakeneth your feare for me. Zabaim beleeving he should wrong Almanzors courage to persevere in his doubt: Know (said he) that Alcidiana's beauty hath gotten you the hatred of the Prince of Fez: he beleeves you pretend to her favour, and since you parted from Morocco, his jealousie hath hurried him through all Africa to finde you; he hath beene at the Cana­ries, he hath run through all the Countries of Tombut, of Meda and Senega; at last, and within these two dayes, he is come hither, with a resolution rather to expect you here yet six moneths, then to lose the occasion of meeting with you; he is very valiant, but he is no lesse proud: The greatnesse of his birth, and the combates hee hath sought, have given him so insolent an opinion of himselfe, as he imagines he is the terrour of all other Princes; I vow to you, that my greatest griefe is not for seeing you engag'd in a combate which questionlesse will be very furious; but I sorrow for your being here, since your friends would have taken your place, and made knowne to your Rival, that there needs not a valour so great as yours to humble his pride. Almanzor concealing from Zabaim the advantage he had had over the Prince of Fez; I am sorry, (said hee) that amorous Prince is become so jealous of a man that intends not to crosse his affecti­on; not that I am ignorant of the incomparable merit of a Princesse, whose Fame flies through all Lands; I admire her vertues, I finde her worthy the vowes of all hearts which are capable of love, but I am not a man of sufficient merit to pretend to the ho­nour of serving her. This verity, Sir, is but for our particular satisfaction; if you love me conceale it, for you know well it toucheth my reputation to publish it; let the jealous Abdelmelec therefore doe what he pleaseth, I have neither excuse nor justifica­tion for him: but repli'd Zabaim, that which most troubles me in this businesse is, that you must necessarily see him, for I cannot in civility chuse but lodge him in the palace, and entertaine him as a Prince my Ally. Almanzor would have rectifi'd some of these sleight difficulties, when Abdelmelec who may be had heard of his arrivall, came to Zabaim: the fire sparkled from his eyes, and witnessing by his gate as well as counte­nance how farre hee was distracted from himselfe; I understand (said he to the King) that he who boasts he gave me my life, is with you: the impatiency I am in, to main­taine with my sword, that hely'd, would not suffer mee to stay any longer from know­ing the truth of it. Zabaim told him Almanzor was arriv'd, and strove by his speeches [Page 71] to bridle the mad man; But Abdelmelec letting himselfe loose to his naturall impetuo­sity, and presently knowing his vanquisher came up to him with an insupportable inso­lency, and told him (without deigning to looke on him) that hee could not hide him­selfe so close but he had at last found him out; Zabaim would have answered willingly to those audacious words, but Almanzor approaching Abdelmelec with a temper that witnessed the power of his soule: I am sorry (said he) for putting you to so much pains; had I knowne your minde, you should sooner have had satisfaction. This answer infal­libly asswaging the Barbarians fury, he changed both his action and voice, and as if hee would have capitulated the businesse by an explanation, instead of coming to handy­stroaks: No man (said he to Almanzor) shall ever undertake to wrong me, but hee shall repent his undervaluing my courage or my friendship. I have alwayes esteem'd them both, (repli'd Almanzor) but you have not made so long a journey to be conten­ted with words; I will not therefore goe about to excuse my former actions. Abdel­melec seeing himselfe not where he thought, put on againe his haughty lookes, and the former tone of his voice, and eying Almanzor with an insupportable contempt; It seemes (said he) you would prevent the Challenge I come to make you: certainely in that you give me more cause to pity you, then to be offended; Yes Sir, you shall give me other satisfaction then by words, and ere foure and twenty houres be past, I will make you feele that I know how to confound the ridiculous dexterity of breaking a Lance. We shall see what you say, repli'd Almanzor, and I shall be glad to take forth lessons under so excellent a Master; in the meane time, if you please, let's leave this discourse, which cannot but be irksome to Zabaim, and forget our difference till we be in case to decide it. Zabaim who thought it fit not to interrupt them, began to speake when he perceiv'd Almanzor would change discourse; and addressing him to the Prince of Fez: You are very generous (said he) to beare so much love to a personage who glo­ry's to be insensible, and by a title as proud as redoubtfull, calls her selfe the irreconci­lable enemy of mankinde. The faire Alcidiana (repli'd Abdelmelec) is just in her mislike with all men; of whom hath she ever heard spoken that hath not deserv'd her contempt or hatred? Certainly, though the publike report, which is alwayes the report of fooles, hath plac'd some even among the gods; yet it is most true, there is none that is worthy of Alcidiana. Such a one hath the repute of valiant, who may be daily accu­seth himselfe for the contrary, and that 'tis but artificiall. Another seemes magnificent, whose conscience upbraides him with many secret basenesses. A third is profuse, and makes shew of extraordinary liberalities, yet a hidden avarice gnaws out his heart: in a word, Men are publike cheaters, and this age in particular brings forth almost no others; and this being true, I leave it to your consideration to thinke, whether Alcidiana be not exceedingly judicious in publishing her hatred to them, and for remaining in a place not to be infected by the arrivall of such monsters. But (said Almanzor to him) if wee are all so imperfect, if wee are all such monsters as Alcidiana cannot abide; can there bee found any man so idle as to thinke himselfe exempted from that generall imperfecti­on, and that he alone enjoyes such parts as are not to be found againe in the whole race of men besides? Abdelmelec, who looked not on Almanzor, but asmew with one corner of his eye: 'Tis for your selfe (said he) to resolve the question you make us; I have long since answered to it for as much as concernes me, (repli'd Almanzor) but I would very faine know your opinion, and learne where that Phoenix is, which deserves to be burnt by so faire a Sun. Almanzor could not so well containe himselfe, but that by his action he made knowne that he jeer'd at Abdelmelec's vanity: That Prince, as quicke of ap­prehension as full of pride, perceiv'd his pretended Rivall's gybing, and the fire flying into his face, The resolution we have taken (said he) stayes my just anger, and retards the chastisement your indiscretion merits. Goe young man (added he, shaking his head) goe, make ready your armes, and renounce in time the insolence which dazles you; if, with the enjoying of Alcidiana's favour you will not likewise lose so many yeares you have yet to live. Almanzor was no way mov'd with all those indiscreet words, but keep­ing him still in his merry humour; You wish me too much ill (said he to the Prince of Fez) to follow your counsell: therefore, be you not displeased if I give no heed to it, and deferre your imposing such shamefull necessities upon me, till you have overcome [Page 72] me. Zabaim not being able any longer to endure Abdelmelec's violent passion, broke off their conversation, and excusing himself on his troubles, gave civilly a Congey to the Moorish Prince: Night straight came on, and Almanzor retyr'd betimes, not to be the last in bed. At day-breake he arose, and consecrating his first actions to that Bounty from whence he had his being, strength and courage; prepar'd himselfe to satisfie the jealous Abdelmelec. The time of Combate being come, Zabaim who was ingaged to renounce all his inclinations, to take on him the indifferency of an Arbitrator, came into a place appointed for all Shewes and Exercises. Assoone as he was set, Almanzor appear'd on the one side, and Abdelmelec on the other. They divided the Winde and the Sunne equally betwixt them; and presently the Trumpets signifi'd to them they were at liberty to doe what they would. I will not lose time in relating to you how these Combatants were arm'd, what their Devises were, what their Horses, and how the rest of their equipage: I will onely let you know, Abdelmelec carried on his Buck­ler the picture of Alcidiana, and was so unfortunate, that with the first blow, Alman­zor cut it in two pieces. That stroake was not to be spoken on, but for the extreame griefe Abdelmelec conceiv'd at it, hee accus'd heaven for his ill fortune, and in lieu of complaining for his want of addresse, he accus'd the Sunne of choler and jealousie. Al­manzor who accompted for extravagances all the transports which proceeded of Love, laugh'd at his enemy; and to mad him indeed, told him if he could keep the Originall no betterahen he had done the Copy, he thought him one of the miserablest Lovers in the world. The Prince of Fez stung with his losse and the others words, repli'd not; but thrusting his Horse on Almanzor's, made knowne by his valour, that his pride and ambition were not absolutely unjust. The Combate lasted above two houres, without any perceivance to whom the Victory would incline; but a little after, Fortune declar'd her selfe for Almanzor; He pursued his Enemy so hard with blowes, that he fell'd him under his horses feet, and presently alighting from his owne, and offering his Sword to that dejected proud one; 'Tis now (said he) Abdelmelec, that thou must beg thy life of me; and since thou art not in case to instruct me, I will take thy place to tell thee, that thou soyl'st thy vertues with a vice, which is not so much as supportable in the person of those who are continually victorious. Courtesie and humility should be the particular vertues of Kings: Others which are not of so high a birth, may sometimes be proud, but Princes renounce the advantage they have over the rest of men, as often as they are apt to forget themselves. This long oration was not very pleasing to Abdelmelec, for Almanzors Sword was all that while at his throat: nor would he answer a word to it, but shewed by his demeanour, he desir'd rather to dye then to beg his life. Almanzor gave it him, and presenting his hand to help lift him up, Come (said he) let's goe get our selves dress'd, and never afflict your selfe with the successe of your Combate; for I swear to you, Alcidiana hath not brought me in love with her, and I have no intent to crosse your Suite: Abdelmelec hearing Almanzor's declaration, could well have wish'd he had never been jealous of him, but 'twas too late for those thoughts. He was then carried to the Palace and put into the Surgeons hands; Almanzor who had but two sleight hurts, got againe on horse backe, and follow'd with the Acclamations and Praises of all the Court, went to Zabaim, and related to him what had pass'd betwixt Abdelmelec & him­self. The King would see his wounds, and have their first dressing in his presence. For Ab­delmelec he was sore hurt, but his rage to be twice quell'd by one same man, troubling him more then his wounds, he besought Zabaim to be pleas'd he might retire to Moroc­co: Zabaim told him the danger whereto he exposed himselfe; yet had he rather ha­zard his life in getting further from Almanzor, then to preserve it by being ingag'd to see him againe. Zabaim did all he could to stay him, but seeing his exceeding resoluti­on to be gone, would not hinder it, but conducting him to his Ship, left him to the pro­tection of Mahomet. Almanzor in the meane time thought on his cure, and in lesse then fifteene dayes was in case to leave his chamber. The second time he went abroad, as Zabaim and he walked on the Sea shore, they perceiv'd a ship beare right up to them: they had the patience to stay her entrance into the Gulph; and (assoon as she had furl'd her sayles) the curiosity of learning newes wonne them to send for the Captaine of the Ship; who receiving the commandment, sent backe him that brought it; and in­treated, [Page 73] he would let Zabaim understand that he had such things to shew him as would be very pleasing to him. The Messenger was no sooner return'd, but the Captain landed, and with him an ancient man clad like the Jewes of Africa, and a woman of more then three sore yeares old, which led in her hand a young mayden of sixteen or seaven­teene yeares, so amiable, and so richly clad, that the two Princes invited by her admi­rable beauty, stood long time gazing on her. Ah Almanzor: thou hadst not now been the Captaine to a company of theeves, if the power of thy soule had not slackned at sight of that faire Wanderer. Zabaim, after he had long look'd on her, made her come neere, and ask'd the Captaine whence he was, and by what adventure those three per­sons he brought with him were falne into his hands. The Captaine (following the ill custome of those that come from farre) unwilling to let slip the least accident had be­falne in his voyage, was about to begin a very tedious relation: when Zabaim cutting him off bade him answer succinctly to these two questions. The Captaine, obeying a­gainst his will, told him he was of the Isle of Madera, and had a long time trafiqued in­to Spaine: The last time I was at Lisbon (said he) I had such contrary windes, and the tempest was so furious that I was cast on the coasts of Fez; I staid there some time to trim my ship, and attending a favourable winde, the very day before I set saile, as I walked on the strand, those three persons you see there, came out from under the rocks which were by the Sea side, and shewing their feares by their teares, cast themselves at my feet; this old man imbracing my knees began thus, My Lord (said he) if you be­leeve there is in heaven a Divinity which recompenceth pious actions, and watcheth for the preservation of oppressed Innocents, have pity on three miserable creatures, and suffer not this harmlesse Soule (with that he shew'd me this young mayden) to be a prey to those villaines that pursue her. If their cruelty would have beene satiated by our deaths, we had glutted it: but their fury threatens us with a more horrible disaster. They would immolate the honour of this Virgin to the brutishnesse of their Prince, and have us consent to the ruine of that, for whose preservation we would give a thou­sand lives. The good man's speech much mov'd me; I tooke him with his company in­to my ship, and weigh'd anchor to returne to Madera; but the winde unwilling to have it so, hath cast me on this Coast; and the old man knowing it, gave thankes to heaven, and besought me to land him with his wife and daughter. I could not deny him so just a request, and therefore bring him with me, taking to witnesse the Justice which reignes in heaven, that I have carefully observ'd the Lawes of Hospitality, and have not fail'd of any duty which the prudent Law of nature wills us to render to one another. This Commander, (that might passe for a miracle amongst Sea-faring men) ask'd those whom he conducted, whether they had any cause to complaine of him: but receiving thankes and blessings from them in lieu of accusations, tooke leave of them and the Princes, and so retir'd into his vessell. Zabaim was ravish'd at the vertue of that Pilot, but he was farre more with the beauty of that visible Angell, who was come from a place so remote to put her selfe under his protection. For Almanzor, he stood as tied by the eyes on the face of the faire stranger, at last hee suddenly came out of his deep and dangerous contemplation; and having heard nothing of what had been said, 'Tis to be confess'd (said he to Zabaim) that she is perfectly faire: but let's know what she is, and whence she comes? For this quarter's houre (repli'd Zabaim) wee have talk'd of no­thing else: No doubt, if you continue as you begin, you will out-goe all those that have been before you. Almanzor blush'd at Zabaim's jeasting, and though it reflected on the pleasure he had taken in beholding the faire stranger, yet he could not refraine from looking on her againe, and to wonder in himselfe at the sweetnesse of her eyes, and the power of her other a [...]rements. Zabaim interrupted this second contemplati­on, and said to Almanzor (smiling) that he found it strange, so great a heart which had not yeelded to the absolute power of Alcidiana's marvells, could let it selfe be sudden­ly overcome by a beauty which was not comparable to her. I shall never have that dishonour, (replied Almanzor) for I am not of those imprudent men who leave their hearts in the disposition of their eyes. All faire things please me, but the delight I take in seeing them, carries me not to the desire of enjoying them: with that he broke off, and addressing him to her father whom he could never be weary of seeing: Old man [Page 72] (said he) tell me of what Country are you, and what sad fortune makes you thus wander through the world, with a personage so unfit to undergoe the discommodities of tra­vell? The good man first set one knee a ground, and afterwards accompanying his voice with an abundance of tears, My Lord (said he) the story of my afflictions which hath its beginning almost with that of my life, askes too long time to recite it you: be there­fore pleas'd that I conceale it; yet I will let you know, that as miserable as you see me, I am descended from a father, who was as much renouned for the brave actions of his life, as for the antiquity of his race. My Countrey neighbours to this, and the horrour of vice hath made me abandon my meanes and unfortunate Countrey both together; and to renounce the favours of a King, whom I was not permitted to contradict, and with whom I could not comply without offending. Zabaim strucken with those words as with a thunder-clap, look'd on the old man, and thought he had othertimes seene him, but with another countenance: yet would he not make it appeare that he knew him. Almanzor, for his part admir'd that young wonder, and for her sake participating in her parents fortunes, be sought Zabaim to have pity on that unfortunate company, and give them a place of retreat worthy his bounty. Zabaim perceiving well that Alman­zor's compassion was mixed with love, would needs give him some triall of his friend­ship, by the well entertaining of those strangers: Hee was not satisfied with lodging them in the Palace, but he gave them (of his owne choyce) white and blacke Slaves for their service, and commanded them to waite on the young strange Mayden with the same diligence and the same respects they did on the Queene. Whil'st these things were executed, Almanzor thought deeply on the beauty he had seen: his memory pre­sented her to him with incomparable graces, and his judgement (which govern'd now no more with its former liberty) betraid it self, and approv'd of that Prince's errors and agitations. Zabaim who made no shew of knowing his disease, and to intimate he had spoken nought to him but merrily, discoursed with him about the conquering the rest of Guinea, and by the way of his victories to reconduct him even to his fathers Kingdom. Almanzor repli'd to that proposition, but in such a manner as Zabaim tooke notice, that the object of the faire Stranger solely possest all the Princes thoughts. The time for bed separating them, my deare Lord retir'd to his chamber, overjoyed that hee might muse at liberty; and got to bed, that he might not be diverted neither by the lights, nor the presence of his servants. Assoone as he was alone, he thought he breath'd more at his ease then before, and from that first joy insensibly passing to the contem­plation of the unknowne, he of it fram'd a fancy more alluring and more perfect then the originall; and spent all the night in contemplating the worke of his imagination. At last he grew asham'd of his weaknesse, and Reason re-entring by little and little from whence she had been driven, represented to him the wrong he had already done himselfe, and the misfortunes he was running into: That light possessing so brave a mind, dispersed all darknesse. Almanzor broke his chaines, and gloriously freed himself from the hands of his Conqueror. He acknowledged his error, blush'd at his weaknesse, and filling his memory with those high designes which the charmes of the faire Stran­ger had banish'd thence: Is it thus (said he) that thou practisest those lessons which so many excellent men have taught thee? What is become of those profitable documents were read to thee for the guiding of thy life? Hast thou quite forgotten the Counsell which the great Sacrificator Arismestidez gave thee? Almanzor, said he to thee, thou wilt quickly grow to an age wherein thou wilt have no greater enemy to fight withall then thy selfe. The strength of nature, the goodnesse of your temperature, the heat of your bloud, the beauty of your minde, and the presence of delightsome objects, will combine together, to triumph over you, and to make you a slave to your owne infir­mity. Meet and oppose this dangerous conspiracy, arme your selfe betimes to resist these potent enemies; fortifie as much as you can possibly that absolute Empire which the superiour part of your soule should have over the rest. But the best advice I can give you, is such a one whereby you will conjecture I contradict my selfe: As often as I have spoke to you of the excellency of the vertues, and particularly, of those proper to men of your condition; I told you, they had honour for their recompence aswell as for their object; and how that honour was not to be acquir'd but in exposing our selves to [Page 75] dangers; that in hazarding our selves in the most perillous enterprises, and in preferring a faire death before a shamefull flight: I now read you the contrary. You must flye Almanzor, yoe must flye, if you will be victorious. You must be extreamely fearefull, if you will come gloriously off this combat; in a word, love is not to be overcome but in avoyding all occasions of incounter. Almanzor stop'd after this speech, and the bet­ter to consider the parts of it was a long time silent. At last, vanquisher of the strangers beauty, and of the passion she had rais'd within him: Let us (said he aloud) follow these wise rudiments. Let us not give place to such enemies, which will leave conquering us assoone as we give over fighting with them: Let us rather fixe on the pleasures of the minde, then the sensualities of the body; and not deferre to breake our bonds, since they are not yet indissoluble. After he had taken that resolution, he bethought on the meanes to put it in execution, and found none better, then to take on him the leading of the Army which Zabaim would send into Guinea; and not see againe that inchan­ting beauty which in so short a time had wrought so great an alteration in him. These high deliberations being confirmed, he slept, as if he would have Love know, he was free from his tyranny; and wakened not till Zabaim made a noyse by coming into his chamber. That King, who thought the Prince extreamely in love, either out of jealou­sie or otherwise, left his former advisednesse, and began to chide him for it. He told him, he knew his vigilancy too much to accuse him of sloth, yet seeing him so long in bed, he could not but believe so great disquiets had interposed his nights rest. You have better divin'd (answer'd Almanzor) then (may be) you imagin'd. 'Tis true, I have un­dergone a shrewd conflict this night, but my resistance hath beene such, that I am come off with the victory. That which I have now to say to you, is, that you lose not the faire occasion which the differences betwixt the Usurpers of Guinea offer you; and without ingaing your selfe in this warre, you will doe me the honour to consent that I serve you in this expedition as I have done in others. Zabaim disbeguil'd of that which he believ'd, and may be glad to have Almanzor farre from the faire Stranger, thank'd him for his advice and proffer; and having often embrac'd him, said, he would accompany him in that warre. Almanzor intimated, it was not fit for him to be absent from Se­nega in a time wherein his ancient enemies might easily revive the rebellion. But on the contrary, that he ought to raise a new Army to stay exotique factions, and in case of necessity to oppose those that would hinder his conquests. Zabaim liking the counsell well, and seeing all things succeed according to his desire, drew his Army out of his garrisons and made Almanzor Generall over it. The Prince being ready to depart, remembred the faire Stranger which he durst not see againe▪ and unwilling that ought which he had once lov'd should become indifferent to him, he intreated Zabaim to continue his good treating of the three strangers, and if they desired to returne home, to give them whatsoever should be needfull for their voyage. The King promis'd him to forget nothing of what he owed to his love, and to make it appeare, gave them more attendants. As often as Almanzor sent to heare of them, his Messenger brought him word that the Father and the Mother esteem'd themselves very happy to be falne into so noble hands; but that the Daughter wept in her good fortune as she had done in her ill, that her griefes rather grew then decreas'd, and that neither the company nor consola­tions of her Parents could any way asswage her sorrow. Almanzor who may be was not so well cured of his love as he thought himselfe, was mov'd with that Maydens af­fliction; but loath to run the danger of losing himselfe in succouring her; he befought Zabaim by his bounty and visits to charme the griefe of that desolate faire one: with that he tooke leave of the King, and with his most speed got to the Army. He carried himselfe with no lesse courage, and government in that last War, then he had done in the former. He pursu'd the traytors even to the Frontiers of Benin, and having given them battle (as a man might say) in the sight of the courteous Abrinzias, made him a Spectator of a part of his brave actions. In summe, while that King was weeping and grieving for the losse of that deare Son, he understood from the publike voyce, that Almanzor had made himselfe Master of the most Easterne parts of Guinea, and as Ge­nerall to Zabaim, had ruin'd all the petty Usurpers of that great Province: He scarce durst give credit to so good and so strange newes, and was on the point to send men ex­presly [Page 76] to know the truth, when Hydaspes brother to the hardy Bellerophon, (of whose death I have told you) came to him from Almanzor, and presented to him foure of the six Usurpers of Guinea. Imagine how excessive Abrinzia's joy was, and how many teares these good tydings drew from the eyes of the vertuous Andromeda. But all that joy was nothing comparable with that those two Princes receiv'd when the saw Alman­zor himself arrive at Court triumphant and victorious of a part of the Princes of Africa. The great fame he had gotten by his Combates, and the advantageous alteration which two yeares absence had wrought in his countenance and stature, made him so exquisite in the eyes of Abrinzias & Andromeda, that they almost committed idolatry in taking him for somewhat more then man. The Feast for his returne lasted divers moneths, and was not disturb'd but by a horrible attempt of the Prince of Benin: That insolent and furious brute, jealous of Almanzor's reputation, and enrag'd at the kind­nesses he received from the King and Queen, plotted with the counsellors of his ordi­nary villanies to murther him whom he thought certainly was his brother: The diffi­culty was in finding the opportunity for the execution; Many wayes were propos'd by Perseus confederates, at last they fixed on one that might doe the feate, and the co­wardly Prince run no danger. 'Twas that that Monster (borne to afflict those who had given him life) lying with Almanzor (as he did often) should stab him whil'st hee slept, and after he had kill'd him, give himselfe some light wound to cover his villany; and make it beleev'd, that those who had murther'd Almanzor had an intent he should run the fame fate too. The time for execution resolv'd on, Perseus redoubled his kind­nesses to Almanzor, and so behav'd himselfe towards him, as if he meant to yeeld up his birth right, and acknowledge him already for his King. Almanzor, who saw not Per­seus defects, or rather that would not take notice o [...] them, shew'd him a love mixt with respect, and thinking he must one day be his Soveraigne, thought himselfe very happy in enjoying his favour. The night being come wherein the most abominable act was to be committed that ever frighted nature, those two Princes went to bed together, and assoone as their slaves were gone, Perseus agitated with the rage he nourish'd in his brest, did such actions as might have well made him suspected, if Almanzor had beene capable of it. That innocen [...] Prince ask'd him the cause of his disquiet, but since he gave no answer, would not presse it further for feare of displeasing him. Straight after he fell asleep, and as if himselfe had conspired with that hangman against his owne life, deliver'd it to his mercy. Though that Monster was full of impatiency and fury, yet he staid till the poor Almanzor was very fast asleep: seizing then his ponyard which he had hid under him, and by the light of a candle, which was not farre from the bed, chusing the place where his stab might be most mortall, lifted up his arme to accomplish his damnable designe. Ah, wretch, cry'd Polexander, (interrupting Almaid) stay thy fury and thine arme. He neither held one nor other, (coldly repli'd Almaid) but just Heaven who had before preserv'd Almanzor in so dangerous occasions, would not have him meet his death in so sound and assured a repose. It fill'd the soule of Perseus with a pa­nick terrour: it troubled his eyes, and making his hand to shake, so happily diverted the blow, that the ponyard in lieu of being stab'd into the body, was strucke into the arme of my deare master. The Angell who had the guard of so faire a life, made him feele the stab before he had it: A certaine trembling seiz'd on him and awak'd him, so that he saw himselfe ready to be strucken, but being but halfe awake, could not stay Perseus his hand. Assoone as he felt the stab, he threw himselfe on the Murderer: Sir (said he) with that generous mildnesse wherewith he was wont to qualifie his fiercest enemies, what cause have I given you to treat me thus? Have my enemies prevailed more on your inclination then my affection and service could ever obtaine from it? Come home to your selfe I beseech you; thinke to what others passions have carried you, and assure your selfe, I will forget the blow you have now given me, if you will promise to drowne in oblivion the causes why you cannot love me. The to be abhor'd Perseus, in lieu of being mov'd by those generous words, did his utmost to get free from Almanzors hands, and may be too, to perfect the murther he had begun. But our Prince, (wounded as he was) got him under, and that could not be done without waken­ing his slaves, who ran in at the noyse. My masters (said Almanzor) come help me; the [Page 77] Prince agitated by some strange malady hath lost all knowledge and understanding, and questionlesse mistaking me for his enemy, hath (with a ponyard stab'd me into the arme. All the slaves ran to him, with so deare an affection, that they had torne Perseus in a thousand pieces had they knowne what had pass'd: howsoever, they rudely enough drew him out of the bed, and one of them, who naturally hated that barbarous Prince, cri'd to his companions, 'twas best to binde him since he was distracted. Almanzor chid him very much for losing his respect, and commanded he should no more come neer to Perseus. Six others, who had no mind he should get away, kept him, whil'st two of their companions who were Surgeons stop'd Almanzor's wound. Assoone as he was drest, he labour'd much with Perseus to win him from his sury, but perceiving all his perswasions were lost, he turn'd him to his Slaves, and forbad them on paine of death from ever speaking of that adventure. Whereupon, Perseus with as much rudenesse as pride, call'd to be no further detain'd from his owne lodgings, for (said he) I will not be any longer amongst mine enemies. Almanzor presently commanded those that had him in guard to conduct him to his chamber, and intreated (in parting) that he would beleeve he should never have any more affectionate servant then himselfe. The next day he came abroad, and liv'd in such manner with Perseus, that Abrinzias and Androme­da knew not the base act of their Sonne in above six moneths after. Now a while after Almanzor was cured of that secret wound, Abrinzias contemplating him as the man by whose vertue his Sonne and Estate might be much advantaged, resolv'd to offer him part of his Crowne to oblige him to the preservation of all. One day therefore being retyr'd with Almanzor and his Queen, My Son (said he) tell us what is your int [...]tion; will you leave us for Zabaim, and under hope of a more eminent fortune then you can expect from us, neglect two persons which value you more then all the Crownes of A­frica? Almanzor answering as he ought, and Abrinzias judging by his reply, that he surely thought him to be his Father: I will use you (said he) not as the younger brother of Perseus, but as his elder, his Master and Defender. Know therefore that after mature deliberation on the proposition I am to make you, and with Andromeda's advise, I am resolv'd to divide my Estate betwixt you and Perseus. Heaven can witnesse if I have not wish'd (onely for your sake) that my Kingdome were as great as all the Empire of Ethiopia, or that of the Ottomans: But when I consider that the greatnesse of the Pre­sent is not alwayes a testimony of the greatest affection, I feare not to offer you a part of the Kingdome of Benin, since by that donation my Self and Andromeda transact to you, and waive all that is in our power, and by consequence give you asmuch, as if we had set on your head all the Crownes of the world; looke on our hearts, not our Present, and remember that he is not the greatest Monarch who hath most land, and the grea­test number of people under his subjection; but he that knowes best how to suppresse those disordinate desires which ambition breathes into him. Abrinzias stopping a little to take breath, Almanzor or would have answered and gotten out of the trouble where­into the Kings proposition had throwne him; but Abrinzias staid him, and be sought he would heare a second which he had to make him. Know (said he) that Andromeda and my selfe are not satisfied with chusing you for our Successour, but we have thought on the finding you a wife, and by some alliance worthy your selfe, establish your Throne, extend the Limits of your Government, and purchase you a repose no lesse innocent then delightfull. We have cast our thoughts on all the Princesses both of A­frica and Asia, but after our long consideration we finde none to be compar'd with the Princesse of Congo. 'Tis true she is yet but young, but what can there be said which is spoken of her vertue, her wit, and her beauty? It may be, you may imagine I offer you a treasure which is not in my power; and that Princesse (as young as she is) being fought to by the greatest Princes of Africa, there is no likelihood she would bestow her selfe on a petty King of Benin. We confesse there were some deniall to be fear'd if Alman­zor had no other quality then what we give him; but you must understand, that her Nation, (who within these three yeares have given you the title of Africa's Deliverer) and the Princes of her bloud, equally wish you for their Master. See what Andromeda and I have been meditating for the comfort of our age, and not to leave poore Perseus to the mercy of the greatest enemy he can ever have, to wit, to his owne discretion, [Page 78] Almanzor taking his breath againe (at the end of the Kings Speech) as if he had got out of somewhat that troubled him, fell at Abrinzia's feet, and intimating his inward sor­row; Is it possible (said he) that some words or actions of mine, have made you be­leeve that you could not surmount my ingratitude, satisfie my ambition, nor stay me longer in your service, at a lesse rate then by setting your Crowne on my head? If it be so, I deserve to be look'd on by you, as one of those abominable children, by whom the wrath of heaven chastiseth the pride of such Families as are blinded with the height of their good fortune. But, not desirous to appeare better then I am, suffer me to let you know, that I feele not my selfe guilty of so black a crime, and the more I examine my conscience, the more it assures me, that I never aspir'd to your Crowne: whence is it then you make to me (pardon me if I say) so unjust propositions? For it seemes, you offer me your Crowne but to bridle and chaine in my fury, and so take away the cause of my attempting against your life. That which I owe you, the care you have taken for my breeding, and the love you have alway shown me, are such strong bonds, that they are capable to regulate a nature more ingratefull and ambitious then mine. If you please Sir to honour me with your love, cast that designe from your fancy, or permit me to punish my selfe for being the cause of it, and avenge you of a monster that could not glut his appetite, b [...]t by devouring his owne benefactors. Abrinzias and Andromeda hearing how Almanzor interpreted their thoughts, or rather admiring his incompara­ble vertue; imbrac'd him one after another, and told him, that the knowledge they had of his good nature, and not the feare either of losing or ill treatment from him, had made [...]hem resolve to quit the Throne, to place him in it with his brother Perseus. Per­seus (repli'd Almanzor) hath right to it alone, when heaven for his punishment shall deprive him of you. At those words Andromeda could not refraine from teares; and (casting her self on Almanzors neck) Why Cry'd she) hath not that just heaven permit­ted Perseus to cal himselfe rightly Almanzors brother? These words were follow'd by many others, but I omit them as [...]oo tedious and unnecessary for your satisfaction, and will onely let you know that this interparlance or some other cause which Almanzor would never discover, cast him into so deep a melancholy, as he hated himselfe for it, and yet could not for his heart suppresse it. He forsooke the Court and all company, and spent whole dayes, either i [...] the Desarts or on the Sea shore. This strange kind of life made the King and Queene of Benin feare some new disaster; and their affection perswaded them that his pensivenesse presaged some dangerous sicknesse. Hydaspes, who almost never forsooke the Prince, was the first that tooke notice of his alteration; he did what he could to divert him, but perceiving ordinary remedies were not power­full enough to extirpate so extraordinary a distemper, he had recourse to more violent. Finding therefore one day Almanzor weeping; With what Justice (said he to him) dares a Prince so wise in couns [...]ll, so valiant in execution, and so happy in the successe, complaine, either of heaven, of fortune, or himselfe? What will not your enemies say, Almanzor, if your discontent comek to their eares? Will they not have cause to make the world beleeve, that you see with griefe the age of the King your Father, that you meditate some plot against Perseus, and in briefe, that you are tortur'd either by some crimes you have committed, or by those you have a desire to perpetrate? Almanzor was very sensible of those last words, and imagining that some other might have Hydaspes thoughts, intended to overcome his melancholy, and to seeke in the toyles of war that quiet which he could not meet withall among the delights of peace. Almaid here stay­ing, as to take breath; Polex [...]nder who had a desire to speake, turn'd towards the ver­tuous Almanzaira, and shewing to her into what admiration the adventures and vertues of her Son had drawne him, collected in briefe all the points of Almaids relation. That done; he discours'd much with the Princesse, and remonstrated that all the misfortunes of her life had nothing in them so mortall, but that she might finde their remedy in the birth of Almanzor. That good Mother fail'd not to confirme Polexander's words, and confess'd to him, that if Zabaim and Almanzor could be preserv'd to her, she would ac­count her selfe infinitely obliged to that Goodnesse which had made her the wife and mother of two so great Princes.

Perseus to Zabaim King of Senega.

JUstice commands me to write to you as to the most unworthy of all men. But I know not what Law (which I cannot read under) forbids me the upbraiding your crimes, and the violating that amity I have promis'd you. Not because of your unde­serving, and that I am not oblig'd to hate my selfe for my capacity of loving you. Some other then I would repeate and reproach you my deservings: but since in all my acti­ons I never propos'd any other end but honour, I also never expected any other re­compence. Enjoy happily (if the remorce of conscience will permit you to be happy) Senega, which I have preserv'd to you against the power of your enemies; and Guinea which I have finally reconquered for you. I repent not (for all that you have done me) the yeelding you so many proofes of my affection. But hence forward I shall know how to make a better election, and not hazard my life for such men, who loving nothing but their pleasures and brutish desires, glory in their breach of promise and legitimate affections. Go not about by your excuses and artificiall reasons to justifie your violen­ces. Though Axiamira's beauty were powerfull enough to captivate your love, the consideration of Perseus should have beene as prevalent to have hindred you from shewing it.

But, honoured knight, I have too much troubled you with affaires of State. I returne to those of Love, and let you know, that Almanzor had no sooner dispatch'd Zabaims Messenger, but he came to Axiamira's chamber. He found her in her ordinary neglect and melancholy. He came to her with a feare that is not to be believed, and utterly lo­sing the remembrance of all that he had premeditated to speake to her, he was brought against his will to call for Osmin to him, to recollect his wits by that diversion, and finde some cause of talke. When the old man was come he tooke him by the hand, [Page 90] and addressing his Speech to him; Have you (said he) intimated to this faire Lady my resentment of Zabaim's insolencies? Axiamira staid not till her father had satisfied Al­manzor's demand; but turning to the Prince, her eyes still cast downewards: My Lord (said she) if you commiserate our afflictions, doe not (if you please) renew them, by making us call to minde their Author. His name makes us tremble, and our memories which in spight of us retaine the image of him, never represent it, without making us suffer yet more tortures then that tyrant had prepared for us. You have most just cause Madam (repli'd Almanzor) to condemne that barbarous man into an eternall oblivion: yet give me leave to call to minde his impudencies; and that their excesse may vively remaine in my memorie, that he may not vannt to have wron­ged without punishment. No, no, my Lord (repli'd Axiamira) 'tis not fit you should trouble your selfe to inflict ought on him; he is sufficiently and rigorously chastised in living with Zelopa; 'tis the greatest torture his most animated enemies are able to in­flict upon him. I doe what I can (said my deare master) to have no other will then yours, but when I take into consideration the state of Zabaim, pardon me, if I say you are too good in not wishing him a greater punishment then Zelopa. I confesse 'tis high, nay, 'tis even insupportable; but he is not sensible of it, and his insensibilitie makes him meet his delights where you finde your afflictions. Axiamira was long silent, at last she began againe, and blushing as she had been asham'd of her owne thoughts; Osmin (said she to Almanzor) can tell you, Zabaim hath not all the insensibilitie you imagine; If he be not very insensible (repli'd Almanzor) he is at least blinde and very irrationall, to love the infamous Zelopa, and have no respect to a personage which shall not be wor­thily enough stil'd, though she be called the wonder of her age, the astonishment of A­frica, the desire of all soules, and the felicitie of all eyes. Yes Madam I repeat it (and be pleased I doe so) Zabaim is a monster which nature hath produced to make Africa more horrible then ever it was before, since he hath had ignorance and brutalitie enough to treat you with lesse respect then he doth a Sorceresse, a prostituted Strumpet: Love al­so disavowes him, and asham'd that one so barbarous should make him Author of his crimes; throwes himselfe at your feet to justifie himselfe of Zabaim's insolencies; and protests to you (with his drowned eyes) he never inspired him with so foule and crimi­nall cogitations. Axiamira a little lifting up her eyes, as if she would know who 'twas that spoke to her, witnessed with a very good grace that she was astonied, and retyring a little backward, I am (said she) so little used to heare so faire words, as I confesse I know not how to answer them. Hitherto I have received nought but injuries, both from men and the elements: and either of them have treated me as the scandall and infamie of my Sex. I have passed for a vagabond, for a slave, and may be for something worse. Those that have been more just would not condemne me before they knew mee, and when they had that knowledge, finding me not very guiltie, they called me the unfor­tunate Innocent. After that (my Lord) judge if it be not a strange noveltie to me to heare my selfe termed to be the wonder of my age, the astonishment of Africa, the desire of all soules, and felicitie of all eyes. Certainly I am so much amazed at it, that the confusion it causeth in my soule, is greater then it shewes in my face. Reserve those titles for some others, since they cannot be justly attributed to me; fit your words to my necessitous condition; call me vagabond, call me unfortunate, call me a slave, and I shall be able to understand and to answer you. Many shipwracks, many prisons, and many other indignities, have been as so many Masters which have taught me this dole­full language. Axiamira said no more; but 'twas too much to draw out of Almanzor's heart, all he had remaining of reason and liberty. He confessed himselfe absolutely o­vercome, and with a great deale of pleasure put on the chaines he had so long time refu­sed. He thought on the excesse of his happinesse, and that consideration plucking him from himselfe, he remained so exceedingly transported, that of a thousand things hee spoke to Axiamira, whether it were to praise her, to give her thankes, or to shew his passion, there was not one of them but discovered the alteration of his judgement. Axia­mira perceived it, and by a nimblenesse of wit, which is not comparable but with it selfe: I wonder not (said she) if you expresse your selfe so ill, since I make you speake a language which you never practised. The happinesse which attends you, the honour [Page 91] which invirons you, and the adoration you receive from so many Nations which affect or feare you, have a particular language; and it must be absolutely unknowne to any that would understand the tongue of the miserable and afflicted. Almanzor ravished with Axiamira's wit as much as by her beauty, sighed very deeply in lieu of answering her; but his discretion imposed a rigorous silence on the agitations of his passion, and obliged him to speake, and tell Axiamira, He had no need of an Interpreter, either to understand or to answer her; That in that little time he had the honour to see her, he had perfectly learned the language of the unfortunate and the slave: Axiamira (be­leeving by these words, that doubtlesse Almanzor was about to disclose his passion to her) called Osmin who unperceivably was gotten a little off, and told him, if he came not to intertaine the Prince, he would run the hazard of being quickly wearied with so ill company. My deare Master soone understood the subtlety of Axiamira's wit and her wisdome, and that knowledge inflaming him more then he was: I perceive well (said he to himselfe) that my servitude will last as long as my life: in the meane time, to let her see, that he absolutely conformed himselfe to her will, he began againe, and addressing his words to Osmin; Father (said he) I think you too happy, in being accom­panied in your disasters by a personage not onely able to comfort you, but powerfull enough to take away all feeling of them. Osmin replied, with the gravity of a father speaking of his childe, and his wife interposing her selfe in the discourse, shewed, she could not so well act her part as her husband. Axiamira continued still her faining, but Almanzor who could no longer be deceiv'd by it; noted in all that maidens words, that she was infinitely above what shee would seeme to be. I should be infinitely tedious (generous Sir) if I did not cut off the most part of those private converses, to tell you in a word, how my deare master, forgetting all, to think of nought else but Axiamira, so imprudently demeaned himselfe in his love, that Abrinzias and Andromeda percei­ved it. They lov'd him no lesse then they did Perseus, and thought themselves no lesse obliged to have an eye to the actions of the one, then of the other. They therefore re­solved to withdraw Almanzor from an affection which seemed to them unworthy of him: yet would they not make use of unjust meanes to perfect what they intended. They had their whole life time thitherto condemned all craft, deceit, and violence; and their goodnesse had perswaded them, that to hinder one ill by another, was to mul­tiply mischiefes in lieu of suppressing them. Andromeda following such rare maximes, would need know Axiamira, before Abrinzias should make any shew to my deare Ma­ster of the discontent he tooke in his alteration. She therefore sent for the mother and the daughter, and without laying traps to insnare them, turn'd them on all sides; and left them not till she had put them to all the trialls her wisdome advised. She was very well satisfied from both, and from their first converse, found so much sweetnesse and vertue in Axiamira, that I shall not lie if I say she became almost as farre inamour'd of her as Almanzor. Afterwards, she could not live without her; she had her name still in her mouth, she even lov'd to praise her in Almanzor's presence; and when Abrinzias blamed her for that indiscretion; You (said she to him) know not Axiamira, and would it had pleased the Divinitie we adore, that this Mayden had been borne for our unfor­tunate Perseus. Whilst Axiamira was thus exceedingly belov'd of Andromeda, Almanzor swom in pleasures beyond expression, and though Axiamira would neither permit him to see her in private, nor once to intertaine her with his passion, he was yet so content with his fortune, as he thought he had nothing more to wish for. Now, one day when Andromeda had shut her selfe up with Axiamira in a Temple of Virgins, destinated to the worship of a god which those of Benin call the Soule of the Sunne: Almanzor sent for Osmin, and being alone with him, intreated he would acquit himselfe of the pro­mise he had so often made him, and make knowne who Axiamira was, and by whom she was delivered unto him. Osmin, in stead of replying, cast himselfe at Almanzor's feet, and kissing them whether the Prince would or no, there kneeled, as bound, with­out doing any thing but bedewing them with his teares. The Prince at last raising him up, Father (said he) if you thinke me unworthy to know, or incapable of concealing so great a secret, I release you of the promise you made me, and swear to you to smother for ever my curiosity though it be not condemnable. Osmin recovering his use of [Page 92] speech, My Lord (said he to the Prince) my sighes and teares proceed from an other Sourse. I have (at least) as great a desire to disclose to you what I know of Axiamira, as you have to know it. But alas! I feare the event of a Prophesie of the great Abul Ismeron. He threatned me in Morocco, that I should lose Axiamira assoone as my ob­sequiousnesse should make me erre in that secret I had promised her. Keep it then in­violably (repli'd Almanzor) but free your mind of that credit you give to Abul Isme­ron: sometimes he tells truth in his predictions, but 'tis by chance, and for one verity they containe, there is discovered in them a thousand lies, and as many impossibilities. When I was in Morocco at the Prince of Fez his Tourney; had not he published that no stranger Prince should carry away the honour of the day, but Abdelmelec should come off victorious if he continued in the termes of his Defiance? The event yet shew'd the contrary; That Prince was vanquish'd by another Prince, which is not altogether without name, and was overcome with the same weapons he himselfe had chosen in his Challenges. The Imposter Ismeron went further on; he durst maintaine in the pre­sence of the King of Morocco, that I gave my self out for what I was not, and in spight of all apparances I was an obscure person, who neither knew my place of birth, nor the quality of my Parents. After these falsities, judge whether your Prophet deserves any credit should be given to his predictions. Osmin dis-beguil'd, or to speake more truly, abused, by that great example, laughed at Ismeron's menaces, and beleeves not fortune to be hardy enough to assaile him under the protection of Almanzor. He besought him therefore to hearken; and preparing him by a long preface to the beliefe of such wonders as hee was to tell him; thus began the relation. I am descended from the great Abuchar Izchias, which founded the Kingdome of Zanhara, and who labouring for nought else but to make his people happy and free, thought that the power of Kings was never more absolute then when it was submitted to the will of the Subject. Thence is it, that of all the Kings of Africk, those of Zanhara are the least powerfull and least renowned: but in recompence, they are the most assured and contented. He who raigns at this day, would needs dispence with, and give over the Lawes his predecessours had observed, and suffering himselfe to be corrupted by the contagion of his neighbours, thought, that to divide the Soveraignty with his Subjects, was to descend from his Throne, and mingle himselfe amongst the throng of the people, and enjoy nothing of Royaltie but the name and the ornaments. Do you know what is betided him on that frenzie? He hath lost the love of his people by it, with his peace and safety, and found himselfe without Subjects, when he thought he was absolutely King. I was long one of those in whom he had a particular affiance; but he met not in my disposition, either basenesse enough to flatter him in his faults, or so much ambition as to build my for­tunes on the ruines of my brethren. I oft times remonstrated the wrong he did him­selfe in changing the ancient Lawes of the State, and humbly besought him, he would be pleased I might retire, to the end I might preserve the fidelity I ought him, and not faile in that I ow'd my Countrey: He would never give me leave; but told me, 'twas to be an enemy to reason not to prove of his alterations. I yet staid a while with him, beseeching and pressing him alwayes to cast his eyes on the diminution he brought on his authority in going about to increase it. But perceiving he went on, from the abso­lute power which is not altogether ill, to a tyranny, which is evermore pernicious; and that after he had despoyl'd the husbands, and fathers of their goods, he attempted the pudicity of their wives and daughters; I left the Court, and within a while after, the Kingdome: My wife, who hath alwayes made profession of an eminent vertue, was the first that solicited me to leave my goods, to save mine honour; and the first who expos'd her selfe to the perils of a difficult journey. After I had engaged my selfe with all my Family in those deserts and famous mountaines which are placed as inviolable bounds between the Kingdom of Morocco and that of Zanhara, we arriv'd at that state­ly and populous City which may be called the Queen of Africa, where we were re­ceiv'd by the King, with all the freenesse and bounty we could hope from him: and for mine owne particular, I was with him in that esteem, as had not the remembrance of the King my master, and the love I bore him, continually crossed my repose; I had met wherewithall to lose the memory of my countrey, and blesse the houre of my banish­ment. [Page 93] You have seene that Prince. His two Sons have felt the weight of your armes; and all that Court, amaz'd at your valour, have expos'd to you all that it had of most magnificent. This being so, I might justly be accused of the imperfection incident to those of my age, if I should make you a description of it. I must therefore go on, and tell you that after I had beene two or three months with Hely (so was the good King of Moroccoes name) I got so farre into him, that there passed nothing in the State, nor in his royall house, wherein he tooke not my advise.

The second year of my service with him began those bloudy tragedies which ambition and love exhibited to his two Sons, and I presently foresaw the unhappy Catastrophes. I presently gave that Prince such counsell as had sav'd him his Crowne and life, had he not lesse lov'd them both, then he did two the most ingratefull and vicious children of the world. Nephisus (so was the youngest called) being retir'd from the Court with a resolution to have by fire and sword, what was due to him by birthright, made himselfe Master of Guargetsem, which is seated on a point of the Mount Atlas, and thrusting farre into the Ocean shelters the mouth of the River of Sus from all the North winds. The Portugals who had not cherished the divisions of the Kings house but for their own gaine, offered Nephisus both men and Armes; and put into the Fortresse all things necessary to defend it against the whole force of Morocco. The good Prince Hely ear­nestly put on by his Priests remonstrances, and the counsell which I thought my selfe bound to give him, departed from the City of Morocco, and with a potent Army fal­ling into the countrey of Sus, beleaguer'd Guargetsem. But when he thought on Ne­phisus (whom he dearely lov'd) he let fall his armes; and shewing himselfe to be too good a father, would not have his Army oppose themselves against the fury [...]f that un­naturall Son. Presently he sent such as had beene beforetime most pleasing to him, to intreat him to acknowledge his fault, to breake off instantly with the enemies of his greatnesse and religion, and not to give over for a prey a Country which should be so much the more deare to him, because it was to be a part of his Dominions. But Ne­phisus insensible of that excesse of goodnesse, attributed his fathers extreame love to him, to a weakenesse of spirit and want of courage; and like some beasts that grow more furious when they are claw'd and strok'd, he became very ragefull because he was no more powerfully set on. Every day he made sallies, and bragg'd among his confede­rates, that the Corps of the King his father should shortly serve him for a step to the throne. But see an example of that to be dreaded Justice, which never lets passe un­punished so prodigious crimes as those of Nephisus. At one of his Sallies the Governour of Taradant a bold and trusty Knight as ever was in Mauritania, met, bustled, over­threw him, and tooke him prisoner. The good Hely no sooner heard these newes, but he came out of his tent, ran to meet his Son, and finding him in the midst of an armed troupe, embrac'd him, wept on him, called him his best beloved and his heire; and in­treated him to pardon the Governour of Taradant for his daring to lay hands on him. Nephisus intimated his distraction and stomach by his silence; and (though a Prisoner) threatned those who hindred him from executing his pernicious resolutions. But the respect they bore to the father made them patiently indure the insolencies of the Son. I was one of those that stood stiffely for his detention, and by a just boldnesse withdraw­ing Hely from his fatall debonarity, made him know that he was father of his people, before he was so of his Son; and by consequence that he could not be indulgent to the crimes of the one, without becomming culpable of the miseries of the other. Hely, who was not lesse judicious then facile, confessed with a great deale of mildnesse that my remonstrances were just and my counsell wholesome: but said he, what shall be­come of my Son? 'Tis better that I perish in the age I am, then you should be bound to deprive my Estate (by the death of Nephisus) of those felicities it attended from his government. The Kings principall Officers would have gladly pleased but not lost him; but foreseeing that Nephisus liberty would be the death of Hely, they were strongly resolved against his clemency, and told him, that if he would not doe his Subjects justice, his Chieftaines were resolv'd to forsake him. To this, he answered nothing, (unIesse it were they should remember he was a father) and his silence passing amongst us for a secret consent; Nephisus was remitted into his hands who had taken him. [Page 94] Whilst he conducted him to Taradant, he assail'd Guargessem, and the Commander's captivity taking away the Souldiers hearts, the place was rendred within a moneth of it's beleaguring. The Portugals failing in their plot retir'd, and Hely presently entred the fortresse. At first he was insensible of his good fortune, but the continuall repre­senting to him the unnaturalnesse of his Son, and denoting the defects he fell into against his owne estate through his too much clemency; he grew sensible of his errour, and gave those men thankes who maugre his countermands had appli'd a remedy to it. We were both one evening discoursing of those occurrences, when on the sudden a surious winde mingled with lightning and thunder drew the good Hely to his chamber win­dow, either to divert his sad cogitations, or rather to intertaine them with so fearfull and dismall an object. Whilst he stood as it were buried in his musings, I descri'd a far off at Sea, two great fires, which sometimes approached, and then againe went off from one another. At the noyse I made in seeing them, the King came out of his meditati­on, and perceiving the cause of my astonishment, stood very heedfull to see what would become of those fires. The winde which blew from the West Easterly, made them make a great deale of way in a small time, and brought them so neer us, that we di­stinctly saw they were two ships which may be had fir'd one another because they could not otherwise get a victory. Hely, who was of the most sensible and humane nature I ever yet knew, presently shar'd in the calamity of those that were confin'd to those bur­ning vessels; and though he deem'd them Portugals, and by consequence his Enemies, yet he shew'd his desire to relieve them. He sent divers of his guard to take all the Fisher-boats that were by the shore, and commanded them to take in if it were possible all those that were not yet lost in that conflagration. They obey'd, but onely for fashi­on sake; and indeed their paines was bootlesse, and their feare of losing themselves in striving to save strangers kept them from that hazard. One of these two burning ships being driven full against our rock split in peeces, and left to the mercy of the Sea those whom the fire had not yet consumed. The other met luckily with the mouth of the River of Sus, and all burnt as she was downe to the water drove (as we understood next day) on a shelfe up the River. Hely (grieved at so strange a sight) went to his bed, and commanded me to take care of those who were taking out of the Sea. I went downe to the shore, and seeing there the good Kings guard, blamed their disobedience, and compell'd them to return to their boats. It was exceeding darke, the Sea went high; and the feare so generall, that this second attempt was as vaine as the former. One of the boats being thrown against the point of a rock was overturn'd, some of the Souldi­ers drown'd, and the rest affrighted at the losse of their companions, got to land, and protested against ever turning Mariners againe. I would have return'd, but something (I know not what) staying me, I remained there almost alone. As the Tyde went out, the winde calm'd, and the waves growne smoother, brought even to my feet some pie­ces of that double shipwrack. As I was earnestly righting that which came a shore, a­mongst chests, fardels, and halfe burnt pieces of plancks and other timber, I saw a man who (forgetting the danger from which he was not yet got free) call'd with a loud voyce Iphidamanta, and seem'd he had no minde to save himselfe, but onely in regard he was loath to leave the person who own'd that name. I thought it good with my self but knew not wherefore, to answer at the name of Iphidamanta. I had scarce twice or thrice repeated it; but he who call'd, put himselfe to swim, and came to land fast by where I sate. Assoone as he was out of the water, I ran to him and offered on the be­halfe of the King of Morocco, all that he needed in his adverse fortune. Afterwards, to free him from the trouble wherein he saw him, I said, That I onely touched with com­passion, had made answer as often as he call'd Iphidamanta. The man sighing at those words, stood a while silent, at last he ask'd me on what Province of Africa he was cast, and besought me to tell him my name: I satisfi'd his demands, and strove by my best reasons to comfort him, or at least to draw him out of his despaire. But he, insensible of all things but his losse, Reserve (said he) for some more lesse miserable then my selfe, the remedies your charity presents me. I must dye, said he, and must finde by my sword what I could not meet with neither in the fire nor the water. Ah! faire Iphida­manta, thou art lost, and even those indeavours wherevvith I strove to preserve to my [Page 95] selfe the happinesse of seeing thee, have reduc'd me to the misery of never seeing thee more. After he had thus lamented, he left me, and leapt into a little boat that was moar'd at the Sea side; but when he was got some twenty or thirty paces, the surges brought him back againe. Five or six times he strove to force her, and as often was cast backe a shore. At last he came out of his vessell, and finding me where I was left: If (said he) your pity be not fained, tell me where I may finde some Mariners. My ship­wracke is not of so little importance, but the remaines of it is able to inrich many. I advis'd him to stay till day, ere he put himselfe to Sea, and promis'd to provide him as many men as he needed. Then I intreated him to retire in and passe the rest of the night with me; but I could not possibly get him from the place where he was, and his obsti­nacy cut off from me all meanes of comforting him. I therefore took my leave of him, and assoone as I was in my lodging, sent five or six of my slaves, to get Mariners to serve him. At day breake I returned to the Sea side, to learne what was become of him, for I thought not to meet him againe: yet I did; but in the most deplorable estate you can possibly imagine. He held in his hands a robe imbroider'd with gold and silver, which was in some places burnt and in others bloudy. When I came neere, he lifted it up in­to the aire, and with a languishing voyce cry'd out, See just heaven what thou hast per­mitted Fortune to perpetrate! See all that remaines of that wonder for whom thou seem'dst to have reserv'd the best Crownes of Europe! Doest thou thus deceive the faith of men? and reject the prayers of the most innocent? Didst not thou incourage me to plucke Iphidamanta out of the hands of a Tyrant to whom she had beene inthrall'd? Didst thou not make me hope to see her one day seated on my Throne, only to ingage me to an unfortunate enterprise which hath hastned her fate, and buried in those waves which have swallow'd her, all that could ever make me happy? Thou wouldst have it so, just heaven; and thereby I know thou redemandest the life thou hast given me. I re­store it thee, and render it as a gift I am asham'd of. With that he cast away the robe, and tooke againe the ponyard wherewithall he had already strook himselfe; but I held his hand as he was about to double his blow, and making my selfe knowne: Credit not (said I) your despaire, follow more wholesome counsell; and at least preserve so much of your selfe as remaines. When he heard me speake he cast up his eyes, and knowing me, Osmin (repli'd he) I will dye, and not give Fortune the contentment of seeing me longer under her tyranny. But before I go hence, I will trust thee with my last Will. Intreat from me the King of Morocco, that he will please to send into Scotland, and ad­vertise the King my father of the tragicall end whereto his deniall hath brought me; and if my last petition can move him, obtaine that he send some one to the Canaries to let the Queen there know of my death. Polexander was so vext to heare of the Scot­tish Prince his death, and withall, the contrary of what he had knowne from the old Narcissus, that he had not power enough o're himselfe to suppresse his first agitations, and remaine in that indifferency, with which he had heard the other incidents of Al­manzor's History: he interrupted unseasonably Almaid; and besought him, before he went further on, to let him know whether after the death of the Scottish Prince, there had been nothing heard of Iphidamanta. Almaid was far from imagining 'twas Pole­xander spoke to him; nor made he any reflection on his troubles and agitations, but imputing them to that impatient and inconsiderate curiosity, which extraordinary ad­ventures and events raise in the most solid and retir'd mindes: I will (said he) presently satisfie your demand, and relate to you very wonderfull verities, at least if Osmin made not my dear Master beleeve so. Know, that Spimantus had no sooner done speaking, but suddenly plucking away his arme which Osmin held, he strook his ponyard deep in­to his brest, but so happily for him, that he was assoon dead as wounded. Osmin, very much griev'd for not being the stronger, mingled his tears with that unfortunate Prince his bloud; and after a long bewailing his sad disaster, commanded his slaves to cleanse the body and carry it to his lodging. In the meane time he went up to the for­tresse to give an account to Hely of what he had seen, and acquit himself of that the Prince of Scotland at his death incharg'd him: yet he could not performe it, for at his entring the King's chamber, he saw tovvard tvventy of those men half Shepheards, half Fishers, vvhich inhabite on the bankes of the River of Sus; and he heard the eldest of [Page 96] the company in presenting a young maiden (clad like a Shepheardesse) to Hely, speake thus: The feare which I and my companions had, least some of your Souldiers or others, might by force take from us this excellent beauty, is the cause that made us in­treat her to quit the rich habillements she wore, and to conceale her selfe under the simplicity of those she hath now on. At breake of day we being imbark'd for fish­ing saw very farre in the River somewhat which cast up a thick smoake. We made to it with our boates, and perceiv'd it had beene a great ship which by fire was burnt downe to the water. That cruell enemy seem'd not content with the mischiefe it had done, but search'd into the bottome of the ship for new subjects whereon to execute its fury. It flew every where, and consuming the bodies of those it had smothered, cast up such a stinking fume, as it was almost impossible for us to approach it. We were returning very sorrowfull for not being able to succour any body, when most pitifull shrikes and cries which seem'd to implore our ayde made us alter our resolution. We entred the smoake, and some twenty paces from the ship we perceiv'd some women, who im­bracing one another floated on five or six great bundles of corke which had beene lincked together. Pity made us cast away all feare. Through fire and sword we came to the women, and taking them into our boates, left the fire to make an end of that ra­vage it had so farre advanced. Assoone as those poore creatures saw themselves out of that danger which they had as it were miraculously escaped, they testified by their teares and actions how much they were obliged to us. Wee asked them by what acci­dent they had beene reduced to that extremity, but they could not answer because they did not understand us. Their language was no lesse unknowne to us then ours to them. Yet that hindred not, but we continued our assistance. Wee conducted them to our Cotes, where commending them to the care of our wives, we returned to the River, to try if we could save any thing out of the burning vessell.

Our paines was not unfruitfull, for fastning a cable to a piece of timber on which the staffe or handle of the ships rudder rested, we drew the rest of the vessell on the sands, and opening it by the keele, found therein much rich furniture which the fire had not yet touched. At our returne home we more heedfully considered (then we had done at first) the women you see, and were strooke as with lightning at the fight of this new Shepheardesse. Her robes which shone againe with gold and silver, and the Diamonds she wore on her head made us imagine her to be some personage of an elevated con­dition; and so we entertain'd her, and instantly resolv'd to come and present her to you. We could not make her understand our intention, nor she us her will. First of all I thought fit to disguise her for my former reason: and assoone as my wife had shewne her the garments she weares, she shew'd a great deale of contentment, and re­tyring with her to put them on, gave her in exchange her rich robe and Diamonds. But we thought it not fit that we should make our benefit of them. Therefore (Sir) I have brought them with me not onely for that consideration, but to the end you may not doubt of my words. See, here they are both. With that he delivered to the King as 'twere a halfe Crowne of Diamonds, and unfoulded a robe which for the richnesse as wel as the fashion would merit a particular description but that other matters of more importance oblige me to put it off till another time. Hely tooke no heed neither to the Jewels or robes of the stranger, because his eyes were so fixed on her face, that he was incapable of all things else. In the meane time, the Prince of Scotlands adventure win­ning Osmin to believe this Shepheardesse was Iphidamanta, he came to her, and when he had long time regarded, I know not, said he, whether I be deceiv'd, but I have ill understood what the Prince of Scotland told me, or you are Iphidamanta. The Shep­heardesse blushing at Osmins speech, looked on him with a modesty full of majesty, and presently fell a weeping. Hely losing the object which had held him so long in­chanted, came out of his extasie; and seeing Osmin before him. Doth not (said he) this adventure much amaze you? Sir (replied Osmin) you would your selfe be farre more, if you knew it all. Thereupon Osmin related to him the death of the Scottish Prince, and the requests he made him, dying, and never believe me, said he, if this Shepheardesse be not the Princesse Iphidamanta. Hely touched with some inward motions not pro­per to his age, made knowne to that faire Shepheardesse, how pleasing her coming was [Page 97] to him; and spoke to her with such respects and submissions as seem'd to undervalue re­gall Majesty. Osmin thought at first, his civilities so full of affection, proceeded onely from the Prince's goodnesse, which was extended to all his Subjects, and many times made him forget what he was. But that very day, Hely made him lose that opinion, and let him know, though he had a great deale of goodnesse, he had far more love. He bought Iphidamanta's robes and jewels at six times more then they were worth, and by so excessive a liberality changed the fortune of a great many poore people. The Fisher-men inriched beyond their hopes returned to their Cottages, and the faire Shepheardesse abode in the fortresse with those women, but so sad and desolate, that shee moved them to pity who were the most insensible. Hely not induring so great sorrow in a person so deare to him, did all he could to com­fort her, and besought her to make knowne to him the cause of her affliction, that he might work a remedy if he were powerfull enough to bring it to passe. That desolate faire one gave the Prince no answer but with her teares, and seem'd to feare something more then the shipwrack which she had escaped. Thus passed the first day of Iphidaman­ta's arrivall: the night after made an end of undoing the good Hely, and the following dayes brought him to such an extremity, that being no longer able to hide his malady, made good that ancient verity, That Love is a fury in the soules of old men. He strove to retrive in the wrinkles of his face and feeblenesse of his body some remainder of beauty and strength: He consulted with his glasse to disprove if he could his fifty five yeers which upbraided him with his folly. It seem'd to him he was not altogether old, and that time had dealt with him far kinder then with others of his age. Not content with flattering himselfe thus, he sent for Osmin to have a Rivall in his selfe-love, and a confident in that he bore the illustrious Shepheardesse. But Osmin whose integrity could not be corrupted, gave eare to the Kings dotages with much griefe, and severely answer'd him; Are you well advis'd (said he) what you doe? Have you forgotten that Abdelmelec and Nephisus had not been criminall, but for suffering themselves to be transported by a passion which is so delightfull to you? And if I dare speake what I thinke, I hold them lesse guilty then you. Both the one and the other have violated the Lawes imposed on them by nature, and engag'd themselves in passions which you can­not approve of. This is true: but they have this excuse so generally receiv'd, that youth and wisdome are incompatible: and (without a wonder) it is impossible to be young and not be amorous. Can you (Sir) justifie your errours by the same reasons? Are you young? Should not you be wise? Hely suffered him not to proceed, but interrupting him, Osmin (said he) the greatest part of humane actions are onely condemned for not being well knowne. You disallow of my intention because you are ignorant of it, you will approve of it assoone as I have disclosed it to you: object not to me neither my age, nor the judgements which your counsell hath made me give against my sons. You know that Abdelmelec is not in exile for loving Alcidiana, and that Nephisus is not in prison for being ingaged to the service of the Princesse of Tunis: and for your upbraiding me with mine age; I am so, but not so old by much as were our holy Pro­phets, Mahomet and Hely, when they married their last wives. Know Osmin, know, that since my children are so great enemies to my Government and age, I ought to seek my preservation and support in some illustrious alliance. Heaven more carefull of my good then my selfe, hath miraculously sent me the Princesse Iphidamanta, to the end, that getting Polexander for my ally, I may be secured against all mine enemies. Osmin perceiving such strange alterations in Hely's minde; I confesse (repli'd he) these rea­sons would not be very considerable if they were true. But how should it be possible for that man to thinke how to defend himselfe from the ambushes of his children, who by a pernicious indulgency hath alwayes cherish'd their ill nature, and hath himselfe in­vited them to stab the steele into his brest? No, no, Sir, you doe not seeke for the con­firming your authority by Polexander's alliance, but the satiating your voluptuousnesse in the enjoying his sister. This is too much for Osmin (quickly repli'd Hely) yet I par­don his boldnesse, but on condition he give a more favourable interpretation to my in­tentions, and (to take away his ill thoughts of me) that he shall himselfe be Iphida­manta's Guardian. Osmin perceiving his sharpnesse was unprofitable, resolv'd to be, no [Page 98] more so rigid to so little purpose: He took on him the charge of Iphidamanta, and sent for his wife, to the end the Princesse might be in unsuspected company. Assoone as she was come, Iphidamanta left her habite of Shepheardesse, but put not off her sad­nesse. Some dayes after Hely returned towards Morocco, and before he went out of the Province of Sus, sent privately to the Governour of Taradant to set Nephisus at li­berty. That Prince whom the prison had a little cool'd, presented himselfe to his fa­ther, and for some fifteen dayes gave him so many causes of satisfaction, that the King forc'd by his nature, and blinded with his passion, discover'd to him the intent he had to give him a mother that by a just title should merit the surname of beautifull. This de­claration wrought a great effect in the spirit of Nephisus, but it broke not out till some­time after. In the meane while Hely was no sooner entred Morocco with the magni­ficence of a victorious King, but he renounc'd all his glory to transferre it on Iphida­manta, and to make knowne to all his Subjects, that 'twas she who was truly victori­ous, and onely deserv'd the triumph. He received her, as such, in the most stately ap­partment of the great Palace of Morocco, and gave to serve her all the officers, and white and blacke Eunuches, which were wont to waite on their Queens. Nephisus ha­ving enjoy'd his curiosity of seeing the Princesse; return'd, with an extreame desire of often visiting her, but Hely taking notice of it, became so jealous of him, and so furi­ous, that he was at the point of ruining Nephisus: yet his naturall debonairity with­holding him, he commanded Osmin to deny all men whatsoever the entrance into I­phidamanta's Palace; and himselfe forbad Nephisus. This prohibition caus'd fearfull disorders: in the meane time, Hely, in love with Iphidamenta even to folly, visited her punctually foure times a day, and though he could not o'recome her silence, nor stint her sadnesse, yet he promised himselfe the fruition of her. For her sake he viola­ted all the Lawes of his Religion; he re-established the Idolatry which Mahomet had so rigorously forbidden, and sent as far as Italy for a Painter excellent enough to draw for him Iphidamanta's picture. One day, leading that Princesse into a marble Cabi­net which is in the midst of the garden of flowers, he cast himselfe at her feet, and never blushing for Osmin's wife, being a witnesse of his extravagancy, It (said he) extream­ly troubles me that I am not able to offer to your incomparable vertue, but things so base and vile as are my Kingdomes and my life: But cast not your eyes (if you please) on the smalnesse of the offering, consider the heart and the humility of the offerer; and assure your selfe, that if he had in his hands all the Crownes of the world, he would lay them at your feet with the same zeale as he doth those of Fez and Morocco. Iphida­manta hearkned to this Speech as she was wont to heare some others, that is, without making shew of any aversion or content. These coldnesses yet added new flames to the Prince his former fire: the more he was neglected, the more amorous he grew, and the lesse progresse he made in his suite, the more happy successe he promised himselfe. Whilst he was in these meditations, the Painter (he had sent for) arriv'd out of Italy. Presently he would have him draw Iphidamanta's picture, to the end he might have the liberty of seeing her at all times, and in all places. But for all his extream desire to have it done, he was yet a long time before he could consent the Painter should see her: he call'd for him, and ask'd if he could not draw a face by the description should be made of it? The Painter answered as he ought to that demand; and to flatter Hely's malady, assur'd him, if he could but onely once cast his eyes on the face he would have portraied, he promised to perfect the rest by vertue of his imagination. Hely was a long time con­testing with two so contrary necessities: at last, Love carried it from Jealousie. He re­solv'd to set his Painter on worke; but he had judgement and respect enough to under­take nothing without Iphidamanta's leave. He therefore came and desired a permission to take her picture, but being absolutely denied it, he had recourse to the credit of Os­min's wife, who promis'd to obtaine what he desired, provided he left to her the ma­naging Iphidamanta's spirit. This promise restor'd to him all his lost joy, and kept him from further pressing the Princesse. Assoone as he was gone, Osmin himselfe used ma­ny kind of reasons to win the Princesse to satisfie Hely. He advertised her, that her life and honour being in a manner in that Prince his power, 'twas not fit to discontent him for an indifferent matter. The Princesse perswaded by this, granted what Hely desired [Page 99] of her; but know said she to Osmin, it is to you I give my picture, and not to Hely, and remember (if you please) that this is the sole favour you must expect from my ob­sequiousnesse. Osmin promised, never to importune her with ought that should be displeasing to her, and so went to Hely with these good newes. The King took the occa­sion was presented him, and after the observing a thousand ceremonies, (which, we must be in love, not to count ridiculous) he got Iphidamanta's picture. Assoone as he was possessed of that treasure, he forgot the care of his affaires, and neglected his owne preservation, to have his thoughts and eyes eternally fixed on that Copy, when he was not permitted to see the Originall. That continuall contemplation so increased his love, that it was impossible for him to deferre the accomplishing of it. Hee made knowne therefore, that without delay, he would declare Iphidamanta Queen of Mo­rocco. Osmin confessed to my deare Master, 'twas not his fault that Hely had not satis­faction; but knowing that Iphidamanta would resolve to die rather then to marry him, he tri'd if he could unblinde him: yet knowing, he was one that would be deceived, he laid before him, that the Princesse being as a Prisoner in his power, was not like, ac­ceptably to entertaine his suite: that she could not beleeve his love was either true or just, since he treated her not as a free-woman, which is sought to by the wayes of ho­nour, but as a slave and vagabond whom no man feareth to outrage or ruine. Do bet­ter, Sir, (said he) remit Iphidamanta at liberty, send her with a great equipage to the King her brother, and chuse the principall of your Estate to accompany her, withall to demand her in marriage. Your counsell is very good (repli'd Hely) but my affecti­on will not permit me to make use of it: make me any proposition, the most difficult, I will refuse none, provided, Iphidamanta stirre not hence. I am ready to send Em­bassadours to Polexander, I will submit me to such references as the Canarian Princes have not even dar'd to promise themselves from the least of the African Kings. I will doe more, I will release to him all pretentions which the Kings of Morocco have to the Islands he hath conquer'd; and if he be not contented, let him chuse of my three crowns which he likes best, and I will give it him, so he grant me Iphidamanta. But that I should deprive my selfe of the felicity of seeing her, under an uncertaine hope of enjoy­ing her; that I should put my selfe in jeopardy of losing a treasure already in my hands, and to exercise I know not what superfluous correspondency, that I should renounce es­sentiall possessions and happinesse, tis that, which must never be expected from me: I will die before I be separated from Iphidamanta. But not to lose the time in fruitlesse contestations, this is my resolution: Arzilland as you know is ready to imbarke, for the conducting into Scotland the body of Spimantus, and to present it to his father. In his returne, I would have him goe to Polexander, and under pretext of visiting him from me, sift that Princes minde, speake wittily of the losse of his sister, and if he perceive in the King any disposition to heare him, he may let him know what is become of her, and what my intention is. Hely by this speech making knowne his minde to Osmin, de­manded what his was. Osmin, seeing there was no remedy, and he could not help it, approv'd of the Kings resolution, and besought him in the meane while to behave him­selfe so towards her, that she might not have cause to beleeve her selfe a slave, nor to presse him for her departure. Hely, promising Osmin both, sent for Arzilland, and gi­ving him full instructions, commanded he should set saile that very day. Arzilland no lesse expeditive then affectionate, obeyed his Master; but the revolutions which follow­ed his departure, gave him farre other thoughts then those he had at his setting forth. He was not got into Scotland, when Nephisus rekindling the fire of division which hee had a while kept as extinguish'd, made the King his father know, that he was able to dissemble though not to amend. He handled that good King more outrageously then he would a miserable slave; he accus'd him of ignorance, of folly, and even threatned to pluck out with his heart, that infamous passion which made him the laughter of his people. Hely as insensible of these injuries, made his excuses to Nephisus, besought him to heare his justifications, and almost asking him pardon for the others insolencies, gave him the boldnesse to continue them. That miscreant seeing his impiety to have so good successe; left Hely, got on horsebacke, and accompanied with his confederates, rode through all the streets of Morocco to raise the people. When he perceived that his per­swasions [Page 100] were powerfull over their mindes, but not sufficiently to make them revolt; he left the town and went to Abdelmelec who with a strong army had already violent­ly seized on the Province of Hea. Hely thinking himselfe not safe enough in Moroc­co, and not resolving on warre for feare of losing his Mistresse, had no sooner newes that the two Princes came by long journeys to besiege him, but he departed from Morocco with Iphidamanta, Osmin, his wife, and their domesticks, and in all haste came to the Fortresse of Guargetsem. There, as if he had been in the highest peace that could be, or had abjured all things but his love, he even forbad Osmin from speaking to him, in a­ny manner, about businesse; nor to trouble his repose with the fortune of an Estate which he abandon'd to the ambition of Sonnes. Osmin, affrighted with this command, was neither sufficiently coward nor traytor to obey him. He secretly sent for the Go­vernour of Taradant, and besought him by the excellency of his vertue, and by his va­lour so often approv'd, to have pity on the Kings weaknesse and his countreys desolati­on. That Governour promis'd Osmin all that a man of honour should in such an occa­sion; but whilst he was in preparation, the two detestable Princes made themselves ma­sters of the best townes, and found every where so little resistance, that they were at the gates of Guargetsem before the Governour of Taradant had time to assemble his friends or his troups. Hely, who passed his time altogether in idolatrizing Iphidamanta, and in promising her such Crowns as he had lost: was much astonished when the roaring of Cannons and the clamours of Souldiers told him aloud, what his most affectionate ser­vants durst not whisper to him. Presently he ran to Iphidamanta, and casting himselfe at her feet: Would to heaven faire Princesse (said he) that I might by my death free you from the danger wherewithall you are threatned by my cruell and unnaturall Sonnes! You should see me run to it with joy, and voluntarily yeeld up what remaines of my life, for the ransome of your honour and liberty. But their abominable ambi­tion will be no more glutted by my death, then it is by my Crownes. 'Tis your ho­nour they aime at, and the accursed Nephisus, will not thinke himselfe fully clear'd of those execrable vowes he hath made, if at once he commit not two of the greatest mur­thers can be imagined; I meane, if after his attempting on my life, he doe not the like on your honour. Iphidamanta, according to her custome, dissolv'd in tears whilst He­ly spoke to her; but at last urg'd by a just indigdation: It behov'd you then to have had more care of my liberty (repli'd she) when it was in your power: So would you not have been reduc'd, to give me now such vaine testimonies of your feare and weaknesse; but take no care for me, I know better then you how to prevent the villanies of your Sonnes. Hely stood wholly confounded with love and joy at those judicious words, and leaving Iphidamanta with Osmin's Lady, went to see whereto his enemies had brought him. Osmin followed, and charging him, but with silken words, (if it be law­full for me to use the Court tearmes) with the irreparable faults his passion had made him commit, would have perswaded him to thinke on his safety whilst it was not abso­lutely desperate. Hely, stopping at that speech, There's an end of the matter (said he) I must die: Abdelmelec and Nephisus have too constant and assured an impiety to pro­mise me the least good that can be. That very day they combin'd to make war with me, they resolv'd my death. Should I give into their hands all regall authority, and on the faith of a solemne Treaty open the gates of this fortresse: assure your selfe they would not be satisfied. They will have me end my miserable life by the most infamous tortures can be invented by their mercilesse impiety. But that which I more feare, is, they will expose Iphidamanta to such horrours, as the sole imagination of them kills me. I will therefore prevent all these disasters by a death which shall not be unwor­thy Iphidamanta nor my selfe. With that he walked on, and ascended up a bulwarke from whence he might descry all his enemies camp. He knew the ill estate of the place he was in, and judg'd rightly by the advanced works and demolitions the Cannon made, that he had but a short time to live. He stood there above two houres, as if he had ex­pected some Cannon shot to finish all his disquiets by a faire death. But heaven which is alwayes indulgent to humane frailty, preserv'd that sacred head, and would not by a tragieall end, give his unnaturall children cause to glory in their wickednesse: nor yet would it absolutely preserve that drowsie and rest-loving Prince for feare he should ut­terly [Page 101] lose himselfe in his remisnesse and too much insensibility. Osmin perceiving Helies intention, withdrew him against his will from the bulwarke, and trusting in the Go­vernour of Taradants promise, assur'd him he should shortly have succour from whence he expected it not. Hely laughed at it, and as if he had knowne his approaching mis­fortune, staid at the foote of a towre which his enemies battered. A great part of it fell in that instant, and in such a manner, that without the particular providence of heaven, Hely and Osmin had beene orewhelm'd with the ruine.

Osmin was not hurt at all; but Hely scap'd not so cheape. He was struck downe and wounded in his head and many other parts of his body. Some of the garrison Souldi­ers thinking he had beene slaine, drew him from under the rubbish and ruines of the towre, and carried him to his chamber. Assoone as the trusty Eunuch Atlas saw his Master in so ill plight, he ran to Iphidamanta, and melting into teares, Come (said he) and see to what point of mishap your beauty hath brought the best Prince of the world. Follow me Iphidamanta and try, at least by one teare, and one word of com­fort, to witnesse to my Lord the King that you are sensible of his wounds. Iphidamanta was astonished at Atlas sad relation, and her naturall goodnesse making her forget all other consideration, she went with Osmins Lady to the Prince his chamber. Assoone as she came neere his bed, and that she saw him all bloudy, O heaven! (she cried) per­mittest thou thine owne lively image to be thus disfigured? Hely knowing her, stretch'd out his hand, and raysing himselfe a little; faire Princesse, (said he) since my life plea­sed you not, let me know at least that my death is welcome unto you. Impute not to heaven nor to the inhumanity of my children the tragicall end of dayes. They have both, rather with pity then rigour, treated me as they have done, and death it selfe shews how pitifull she is, since it hath prevented the despaire and contempt whereinto your losse would infallibly have carried me. Give them thanks rather for being so con­formable to your wishes, and for delivering you at last from that bondage which hath cost you so many teares. Farewell then faire Princesse, weepe no more, if you desire not to afflict me at mine end. Rather by a pleasant countenance signifie to me, that you take my death as a favour. I will even hasten it, if you desire it. But whilst I seeke for comfort in my misery, I forget the care I should take for your preservation. Goe, and make ready for your departure. Get you quickly out of a place which will soone be fil­led with your greatest enemies. Intreat Osmin (as I doe with my heart) that he for­sake you not; in the meane while I will beseech Heaven with all the zeale I can, that you may be as faithfully beloved, and (if I dare say so) as religiously ador'd by him that must enjoy you, as you have alwayes beene by the most unfortunate Hely. Iphidaman­ta had not fail'd answering him, but that she was hindred by fearefull cries, noise of armour, and the affright given her by a great many Souldiers who with their Symeters in their hands confusedly entred the Court of the fortresse. Hely seeing her so much amazed, and hearing withall the shouts of the victorious Souldiers, Flie (cried he, dying as he was) flie faire Princesse, and stay not till you are in the pawes of the Lion that will devoure you. And thou Osmin (said he) if thou hast ever lov'd me, and if the af­fection I have borne thee deserves any acknowledgement, save the best part of my self, and suffer not base feare to make me dye more cruelly then can all the barbarousnesse of my two Sons. Osmin hearing himselfe so exceedingly conjur'd not to abandon the Princesse in that extremitie, withdrew her from the Kings chamber, and running to his lodgings for some of his slaves, and what he had of most value, descended by a pri­vate staire to the foote of the rock, and with his little company entred into a Barke which the Governours of Guargetsem alwaies used to keepe there, for any urgent neces­sitie. All things favoured their flight. The tumult and confusion which alwaies accom­panieth the taking of places, the calme which could not be fairer, & the night approach­ing, conspir'd together for those innocents safetie, and drew them from the sight and furie of Nephisus. Osmin put his hand to the oare, and in the night time got to certaine high rocks (farre enough from Guarguetsem) which might have serv'd them for a safe retreate. He was not long there, for a Merchant of Madera being driven on the same place, tooke him into his ship with his companie, and promis'd to waft him into the Isle of Teneriffe, or any other of the Canaries. Osmin having thus recounted to the [Page 102] Prince Almanzor Iphidamanta's adventures; You have understood my Lord (said he) that the Madera Merchant could not performe what he promis'd us, for when we had beene a while under saile, a tempest arose and cast us on the coast of Guinea. I must confesse (said Almanzor then to Osmin) you have related to me strange adventures; yet is not my curiosity absolutely satisfied. You have not told me how Iphidamanta was stolne from the place of her abode, who that Tyrant was out of whose hands Spi­mantus vaunted he had redeem'd her, nor by whàt accident the two vessels were fired. My Lord (replid Osmin) I have had the same desire, as you, and cannot yet get any fur­ther satisfaction. Onely I will tell you, that the Princesse seeing her selfe voyd of all protection but mine, threw her at both our feets, and besought me and my wife to take her for our daughter, to conceale the truth of her birth, and in stead of the name of I­phidamant a which was not hers, to call her Axiamira. There now remaines nothing for me, but to petition you, for that Princesse sake, to let her perceive nothing of what you know, and to actuate all that honour and love shall advise you to give a glorious issue to her long wandrings. Father (said Almanzor imbracing Osmin) I will strive to performe what you injoyne me, and if it be not that you should have a good opinion of me; be assur'd, you shall never repent your confidence of my discretion. After these promises he dismissed him; and remaining alone to give himselfe wholly over to his owne contentment, and to be overcome by those transports which the excesse of his good fortune brought on him: he tasted (the remainder of that day) more sweets, and resented more ravishing joyes by the strength of his imagination, then he will ever meet withall againe, either by the knowledge of his parents, the conquest of all the Empires of the world, or the very possession of Axiamira. He himselfe hath confessed to me that which I tell you, and having laid before me all the faire chymeraes which in that happy time had passed through his fancy: Almaid, (said he to me) what felicity can there be compar'd to mine, if by the number of my exploits, and by the immutabi­lity of my faith I be able to oblige Iphidamanta to the not disdaining my humblest servitude? O how capable doe I finde my selfe of the most honourable and difficult en­terprises! How doth the elevated birth of that Princesse raise my thoughts beyond or­dinary conceptions! How am I asham'd that I have done no more since I knew the world! How powerfull a spurre to honour is the desire of making me worthy Iphida­manta's esteeme! And what emulation and disquiet do Polexanders famous acts (which are still before mine eyes) bring upon me! I will follow his steps, Almaid. I will under­take something great enough, to the end I may without impudency make knowne mine affection to Iphidamanta, and at least give an honourable pretext to my boldnesse. I should trouble you brave Knight did I repeate all the brave words so faire a passion put into the mouth of Almanzor. Assoone as Andromeda was come from the place of her retirement, that Prince went to visit Axiamira, and inventing new humilities to come worthily neere her; I wonder much (said he) that the Deity with whom you have so privately communed these foure dayes, could be wonne or resolve to let you goe out of his temple. 'Tis true, (replied Axiamira) my returne is a just cause of wonder. The sanctity of the place whence I come, the authority of the Deity which inhabits it, and the example of so many religious soules which burne with love, should for ever have made me renounce the company of the world. But alas! my weakenesse hath been stronger then all those powers, and I have found my selfe so incapable of so high a per­fection that I should thinke I had more ambition then zeale, if I durst onely pretend to it. You are a very unjust Interpreter, (said Almanzor) pardon me Madam if I speake to you with so little respect. You give my words a cleane contrary sense to my intention. You accuse your selfe for not being devout enough; and I accus'd the god with whom you were so long, for not being sensible enough. Truely I cannot conceive how that Deity who hath perceptions and penetrations farre beyond those of men, and by con­sequence sees in you those beauties which are conceal'd from us; such perfections, as we cannot discover, and such brightnesse as our too weak and dull eyes cannot perceive, hath not reserv'd to himselfe a wonder which of all those that are visible comes neerest to it selfe. Give me leave (replied the Princesse) to aske, whether you thinke well on what you say; and whether you be not more unjust then I to jeast so, either with the [Page 103] gods or with a miserable maiden. Almanzor blush'd as fire at Axiamira's reply, and was about committing new impieties to justifie the former, when Andromeda inter­rupted his designe, and made him change his discourse for others lesse serious, but with­all more pleasant. A few dayes after were seen some ships on the coast of Benin, and up­on the newes to Abrinzias; Almanzor who would faīne doe somewhat of worth in the sight of Axiamira, ask'd the Kings leave to goe and see what they were. He had his re­quest granted, and was so happy in his voyage, that he burnt two of the ships which he knew were Pirates, and in spight of all the resistance of many determinate Souldiers, brought two more away with him into the River of Benin. But what a jealousie did this bold attempt throw on Fortune, and how unhappy was that Prince for doing more then men should doe? The very night after this audacious Enterprise, the Pirates lan­ded, and not content with robbing the Countrey, dar'd even set on the royall Palace. Almanzor who well expected this revenge, sallied on the Rovers, and followed with all the bravest men about him, drove them backe into their ships. At his departure he left the Court much troubled, and at his returne he found it in a generall desolation. Osmin and his Lady, tearing their haire, and scratching their faces, cast themselves at his feet when he entred the Palace; and told him, the Pirates had stolne away Axiamira. At those words, Almanzor strucken as with a thunder-bolt, was like to have fallen downe dead, so quick was his resentment of that lamentable accident. O that I were but able to represent to you the excesse of his sorrow, and relate his pitifull words by which he ex­pressed a part of it! I should inforce you to bewaile him; and your generousnesse win­ning you to beare a part in his sufferings, would make you as much afflicted as he was at that fatall instant. After he had grieved even beyond what passion permits, he took Os­min by the arme, and commanding Hydaspes and my selfe to come neere: I will (said he) have you two to be witnesses of the promise I make this good old man, to the end, that if I happen to faile in it, he may use you against me, and call you to avenge the wrong he shall receive by my faithlesnesse: after hee had spoke thus to us, hee turn'd him towards Osmin, and lifting his eyes to the Moone which was then at full: I sweare (said he) by this Starre which is no lesse venerable to me then the Sunne; not to see a­gaine the King or Queen, not to set foot in my native Countrey, and never to give rest to my minde, not truce to my afflictions, nor intermission to my journeying, till I have restor'd to you that treasure I have made you lose. I hope, sooner or later, to discover the forcible takers away of Iphidamanta; and then woe shall betide him who hath had any hand in this attempt. The power of the whole earth shall not protect them against my indignation. What e're they be, they shall fail under my vengefull arme, and if Po­lexander himselfe had enterpris'd it, he should have felt, that a just sorrow can give to the most weake, a strength sufficient to conquer the most invincible. After this speech, he tooke me by the hand, and intreating me to yeeld him that proofe of my affection: Almaid (said he) stay you here, and intimate to the King the resolution I have taken. I recommend not to him either Osmin or his Lady, because he is none of those Princes whose languishing vertues require to be often solicited to keep them in agitation. He had no sooner ended, but he hastned with Hydaspes and his other servants to the place where the night before he had left his ships. In the best of them he imbark'd, and as if his eyes had been blindfolded as well as the god that led him to those high resoluti­ons, he cast him selfe into danger without taking notice of it, and with one sole ship would have gone and assail'd the Pirates fleet. Hydaspes, as valiant (or to say truer) as rash as he is, could not but be afraid of his Master's desperatenesse, and loath to con­sent to his losse, There is (said he) neither courage nor honour in a [...] enterprise so out of all appearance. The best successe you can expect in it, is to die infamously by the hand of some one of those theeves, or to end your life in their slaves fetters. Almanzor laugh'd at Hydaspes remonstrance, and letting him know the greatnesse of his courage for bad him to lend an eare to it; Take notice (said he) that the greatest part of our adventures are so many miracles; and most commonly those have best successe which are most a­gainst humane reason and providence. I confesse to measure things by the rules of com­mon wisdome, it were not onely rashnesse but likewise rage, with a handfull of men to offer to fight with an army. But you see not that which the eternall Providence keeps [Page 104] hidden under that temerity; and if I be not deceiv'd, it will betide, that of all the ha­zards we have run, this will be the lesse dangerous. This speech shut Hydaspes mouth, and made him expect some favourable prodigy from that Divinity in whom Almanzor seem'd to put all his confidence; surely he was not deceiv'd. A few dayes after he put to sea, a tempest which in all likelihood should have been his destruction, was the cause of his safety. For the Pirates fleet being separated by the storme, he met with the Ge­nerall's ship farre distant from all the rest; and knowing her, set on her with such a fury, that he forc'd her to lay him aboard to avoid the sinking by his artillery. It was then, there began a fight as bloudy and obstinate as ever was seen on the Ocean. Both parts gave over all fiery offences, and those which are not dangerous but when they are cast from afarre off. Every one took his Simeter, or Battleaxe, and the desire of vanquish­ing being equall on both sides, made them alike forget the care of their preservation. That day Almanzor surmounted himselfe, and did such wonderfull acts of valour, as I intend not to perswade you to credit, since I can very hardly beleeve them my selfe. After he had made him a bloudy way in the Pirates vessell, he forc'd upright to the Ge­nerall, and plucking from him Hydaspes whom he had laid at his feet: 'Tis (said he) against me thou ought'st turne thy armes, since 'twas I onely who made my compani­ons resolve to assaile thee. The Generall sparkling fire from his eyes, repli'd; And thou, but not thou alone shalt from my hand receive the just chastisement for thy rashnesse. These bold words were seconded by effects no lesse haughty. Almanzor first strooke his enemy, and charg'd him with so much vigour and quicknesse, that he scarce gave him leasure to put by, or avenge himselfe. Yet did he what a valiant man could, and gave not ground till his Symiter was broken, and weakened by the losse of almost all his bloud he could not possibly stand longer. He was no sooner fallen, but Almanzor of­fering his Symeter to his throat, Thou shalt dye (said he) unlesse thou restore me the Princesse thou hast stolne. The Rover making shew that that speech was more deadly to him then all his words: Do not (said he to Almanzor) abuse thy victory, but know that scoffing and jeering never well became the mouth of a Conquerour. I confesse, the desire of getting that Princesse of whom thou speakest, hath brought me from Mo­rocco to Benin, but that designe hath not prosper'd; and I acknowledge now that wicked projects, sooner or later, have but unfortunate events. I feele, I feele the blow wherewith I was long since threatned. My crimes have exhausted all the patience of heaven, and by a just retribution, I meet with a violent death, that so I may be exem­plarily chastis'd for so many murthers which my command hath committed, though my hand hath not beene able to execute them. The Pirates Speech so sensibly touched Al­manzor, that changing in an instant from an irreconcilable enemy, to a pitifull Com­forter: Hope better (said he) from the bounty of heaven, and since it hath brought you to repent you of your former life, doubt not but it hath in store a better for you. You shall live for its glory and the example of others of your condition. But let not your repentance be imperfect. Be sorrowfull for offending without cause the Prince of Benin. I sweare (repli'd the Pirate) by that just avenging Deity whose hand i [...] now heavy upon me, that I know not, where the Princesse Iphidamanta is: and I die with more griefe to lose her for ever, then to lose the light of day. With those words hee gave up the ghost, and left Almanzor so extreamely afflicted, that his victory went neere to have beene very dismall to him. For the Pirates seeing their Generall dead, (in lieu of losing courage as men of warre usually doe in like occasions) shewed themselves more hardy and furious then before. They rushed all at once on Almanzor, and if the necessity of defending himselfe had not drawne him from his dangerous compassion, he had run the hazard of accompanying the vanquish'd Rover. He then turn'd head on the Pirates, he drove them back, he pierc'd them, he dispers'd them, and by his terrible blows inforc'd them to have recourse to that goodnesse which a little before they had despised. Almanzor receiv'd them to mercy, and stopping his Souldiers fury, My Companions (said he to them) 'tis enough that we have brought our enemies to aske their lives. Let us use them so as they may be bound to esteeme us as milde to those which yeeld, as we are redoubtfull to such as [Page 105] resist us. The Pirates ravish'd at Almanzorse xceeding generosity, as much as they had bin terrified by his in comparable valour, threw their weapons & turbants at his feet, and as if they had now a time to accord their desires with their thoughts; Fill (cried they all to gether) the place which Nephisus hath left empty by his death! The name of Nephisus strook Almanzor to the heart, and won him to grant the Rovers what they desired, only to cleer such doubts as they had cast into his minde. Seeing therefore so great an union where a little before there was so great contrariety; and so profound a peace where so much war had bin kindled; First of all (said he to them) I desire to know whence your Generall was, & what is become of the Princesse he stole from the Court of Benin. One of the Pirates speaking for all, I know (said he) better then my companions, the reason of your demands, and I can better then they satisfie you in them both. Know (said he further, sighing) that the unfortunate Nephisus whom you see dead at your feet, is the same Ne­phisus who for the beginning of his miseries, felt in the Prince his brothers Turney, that your pastimes & diversions are dreadfull. 'Tis the same Nephisus who following the coun­sell of his naturall ambition, and the passions of the King his father's enemies, violated the most sanctified Lawes, and wrong'd a goodnesse which had never parallel. 'Tis that Ne­phisus who failing in his faith to the Princesse of Tunis, and of his duty to the good He­ly, would have ravish'd Iphidamanta from him, and besieg'd him in a Fortresse where­into he was retir'd with her. In summe, 'tis the same Nephisus, who thinking himselfe by his taking that place not onely master of his fathers life, but possessor of his Crowne and of Iphidamanta; saw himselfe compell'd to abandon his defeated army, to fly out of his fathers territories, and (that he might have a refuge) to implore the assistance and protection of those, who now demand yours. I beleeve (my Lord) these generall things will be sufficient to satisfie part of your curiosity; for the rest, this is all the ma­nifestation we can now give you. When Nephisus left the Pirates Island for the stealing or forcing away of Iphidamanta, he chose for companions of his fortune, two of his most resolute Captaines; the one was called Thalemut, and the other Achain. They pro­mis'd him to throw themselves into Abrinzias Palace in two places which they knew, and to take thence Iphidamanra whilst with his troupe he amused another where that Kings gard was. They executed what they had promis'd; but Nephisus being constrained to retire to his ships sooner then they had agreed upon together, neither met with Tha­lemut nor Achain. A tempest presently arose, and our vessels were so dispers'd, that this unfortunate Prince never heard since what was become of those two Captaines. If you please I may have leave to tell you my opinion; I thinke that Thalemut and Acha­in are certainly retir'd into their Island, and carried the Princesse along with them. Quoth Almanzor, that which you have told me, fills me with astonishment, and gives me a great deale of satisfaction. But I should have all I desire, if you would instruct me what course I should steere to get to that fatall Island. The Pirates who were about him, spoke all at once, and offered not onely to conduct him thither, but also to cause Iphi­damanta to be restor'd to him, if so be she were in the hands of any of their Captains. Almanzor imbrac'd them all one after another, to thanke them for a promise that was so pleasing to him; and in recompence, told them he would (if they thought them wor­thy) fill Nephisus place, and give them a Generall as affectionate as he, if he did not give them one as valiant. The Pirates taking him at his word, forgot their pass'd losses by the gaine they had in him, and betooke them to the course which their former combate had put them farre from. Almanzor, commanding his Mariners to follow him, abode in the Pirates vessell, and was compell'd to suspend his melancholy, and accommodate himselfe to their brutish manner of life. Fortune seconded his designes, and to give them a more happy beginning, presented him a faire occasion to gaine the love of the Pirates: for the day after he was imbark'd with them, he met with foure saile of their companions, fighting with twelve Gallions or Spanish ships. He not onely dis-ingag'd them, but tooke two Gallions loaden with gold from the new World, and by that Prize which he gave wholly to the Pirates, so absolutely wonne them; that the last, ra­tifying the election of the first, proclaim'd him their Head, and bound themselves to make all the rest consent to it. With this resolution they kept on their voyage, and as they met their companions, made knowne to them Nephisus death; and extolling the [Page 106] valour and liberality of Almanzor, dispos'd them to receive him for their Generall. In a little time Almanzor understood the humours of his new Subjects: he knew how to handle them with such dexterity, and propose to them such enterprises conformable to their wishes, that they bless'd the day of his victory, and promis'd to themselves under so valiant a Commander, to become Kings of the Ocean. A few dayes after they arriv'd at their Island, and in the haven met with Achain, who after his escaping many great dangers both by land and sea, was at last got home to his accustomed Sanctuary. The Pirates who were with Almanzor made shew to him of their true affection by their im­patiency of understanding from Achain, what he had done with the Princesse Iphida­manta. Eight or ten of the most remarkeable went aboard him, and so dilated them­selves in the praise of my deare Master, that if the death of Nephisus, and the taking of the Spanish Gallions had not serv'd them for more irreproachable witnesses, the severe Achain had punished them as traitors to their Generall, and abandoners of their confe­deracy. But being wonne (as well as the rest) by Almanzor's noblenesse and his won­derfull deeds of armes, he came to him, and making to him (with all the necessary cir­cumstances) an oath of fidelity: The obedience (said he) I owe thee now, obligeth me to declare to thee the successe of the voyage which our late Generall made us undertake. And to tell it thee in few words, thou maist know, Thalemut and my selfe assaulted the King of Benin's palace, and forc'd it in the spight of al resistance: he that was our guide in that businesse, was deceiv'd when we were to be brought by him to Iphidamanta's cham­ber, and having made us breake open foure or five without finding her, stole from us for feare of Thalemut who had threatned to strangle him. We gave not over the per­fecting what we had begun, for Thalemut searching on one part and I on the other, we at last found what we sought for. Thalemut had much adoe to make himselfe master of the chamber where the Princesse was; the doore being defended by five or six vali­ant men, with so much obstinacy, that he could not get entrance till he had killed them all. Thalemut who never much studied civility, tooke Iphidamanta rudely enough, and never mov'd with her teares or intreaties, carried her out of the palace, and whilst I made good the place to stop those that pursu'd him, he brought her to his ship. I pre­sently retreated, and set saile after him, but the tempest which befell at day-breake se­ver'd us, so that since then we met not. Be then assured, that if Thalemut be not ship­wracked he will be quickly here. But I advise thee, to receive the command which I and my fellowes offer thee; for never hope to get Iphidamanta out of Thalemut's hands, if it be not by the quality of our Generall. For as such, thou mayest absolutely dispose of us, and all we have, and not being so, thou canst not avoid that hard necessity whereto all those are reduced, whom the chance of warre throwes into our hands. Here Achain was silent, after he had made knowne to Almanzor that he must resolve either to take on him the Generall-ship of the Pirates, or for ever lose the hope of regaining Iphida­manta. He therefore got into the midst of them, and when he saw they were all at­tentive; Yes my friends (said he aloud) I here fully declare my selfe, and will satisfie the common desire of so many valiant men as you are. After this Declaration, he drew his sword, and holding it aloft to be seene of all the assembly, he thus continued his speech: I accept (more willingly then I would a Crowne) the title of your Generall, and solemnely sweare by this sword, which hath atchiev'd me some name in the world, that hence forward it shall not be imployed but for your defence and benefit. I desire but one thing, and 'tis that you promise me to live as adventurers which seeke their for­tunes and advantages of warre with the hazard of their lives: That you shall make a just warre with your enemies: That you shall not assault such as cannot defend them­selves: That you shall not use as slaves, such prisoners of war as would ransome them­selves: And above all, that you renounce that brutish delight of forcing and stealing away virgins, to which Nephisus sensuality had engag'd you against your owne intenti­ons. Assoone as Almanzor had made an end, there was a deafe noise among all the as­sembly, and the muttering of voyces having long continued, (to witnesse the repugnancy the Pirates had to those Lawes) it ended in a deep silence. Almanzor, who would faine winne so much from them, that nothing infamous might be intermixed with the glo­rious story of his life, thought, that to bring them to it, something extraordinary must [Page 107] be promised them. He therefore began againe, and by his countenance shewing the constancy of his minde; Promise me boldly (said he) such things as cannot but be ad­vantageous unto you; for my part, I oblige my selfe to lay before you as a prey all the riches of Europe and Africa, to make you considerable with the greatest Princes; and to make you dispute fame and potency with the most flourishing Kingdomes. These promises calm'd all the stormes which troubled the Pirates mindes. They cried out all, they would observe Almanzors lawes, and confirming their promises by an infinite number of extravagant actions, proclaim'd that Prince (the third time) chiefe and Ge­nerall of all the Pirates. Presently they plac'd him on a Buckler, and eight or ten lifting him up into the ayre, shew'd him to all the Assembly, and so carried him to the Fortresse. The acclamations, the bonfires, and other liberties were the publique wit­nesses of the Rovers satisfaction. But Almanzor was insensible of all these honours done him, and fearing all dangers and sholes in the sea, absolutely despair'd of Tha­lemuts returne. Neverthelesse within a few dayes after he came in, and knowing well Almanzors valour, he not onely consented to their Election, but well weeting how impatiently he was expected by the Generall he went to him with his prize. He ac­coasted him after his wonted fashion, and presently falling to matters more essentiall: I cannot (said he) yeeld thee a greater proofe of my allowance of their choise then by offering thee this prisoner. Imagine the transport of my deare Master, in seeing him­selfe so neere that Princesse for whose sake he had expos'd himselfe to so many dan­gers: but his affliction was farre greater, when Thalemut had taken off the vaile where­with she was covered, and made knowne to the Prince so much transported with joy that he had no cause at all for it. In effect it was not Iphidamanta, but (as Almanzor understood from her owne mouth) an Egyptian whom Perseus had gotten from some Ethiopian Merchants. Certainly he was like to have died with griefe for seeing him­selfe so farre from his hopes; and but for the power which Hydaspes had over his thoughts to divert his tragicall resolution. Iphidamanta had in lesse then one month stuck a ponyard in the brests of two of the most famousest Princes of Africa. I could now relate to you all the brave actions done by Almanzor since he was Generall of the Pirates, tell you of the laudable alterations hee hath brought in their Common-wealth, and the important Services he hath done the ingratefull Zabaim since the Pirates changed his name from Almanzor to Bajazet. Polexander breaking out at the name of Bajazet; Ah Almaid (said he) how cruell hast thou beene in concealing from me so long, that, whose knowledge would have been so acceptable to me? Why then, your Almanzor is that generous Bajazet, who by his incomparable vertues and g [...]atnesse of his courage having of a Society of theeves created a lawfull Common-wealth, governes with so much Justice and magnificence, that his quality deserves the envy of all the Princes in the world. After thus much, he turned to Almanzaira, & continuing his Speech: Madam, (said he) what great cause have you to rejoyce in the midst of your ill fortune, if Bajazet prove to be your Almanzor? Almanzaira looking on him with a pleasing countenance; I confesse, (replied she) without this comfort which betides me at that time when my miseries seem'd to me at the worst and desperate, Zelopa's cruelty had beene long since satiated. Knight (said Almaid to Polexander) you knowing Baja­zet as your discourse informes me, I have nought else to relate further, but what I have done since his command forc'd me to leave him: I went to Abrinzias and An­dromeda assoone as he was gone and declaring his resolution, I staggered that wonder­full constancy wherewithall they were wont to receive the stroakes of fortune: They both complain'd of Almanzors vehemency of courage rather then of himselfe, but pre­sently resigning themselves to the will of heaven, which with so much ardour they lov'd, and with so much respect ador'd: Almanzor (said they to me) hath given credit to a pas­sion, and an age, which most commonly are very ill Counsellours. But we hope the in­finite goodnesse of heaven will have compassion on that Prince; and having already drawne him out of so many dangers, it will not abandon him in those whereunto he hath so inconsiderately cast himselfe. When those good Princes had said thus: I told them my thoughts; and the next day (taking my leave of them) I besought them in Almanzors name, to continue to Osmin and his Lady the good entertainement they [Page 108] had begun to give them. The same day I imbark'd me in that vessell which brought me out of Portugall; and after a long voyage by Sea to hearken after my deare Master, I was so fortunate as to finde him in his Island, where he liv'd in continuall melancholy for his losse of Iphidamanta, and was preparing with his fleet to search and inquire a [...]ter her in all the parts of Africa. After I had beene a while with him, I resolv'd to returne to Senega to hearken after Zabaim, and redeeme the Queene from her long captivity. That voyage I perform'd so fortunately, that I arriv'd at Melly, in a time when Alman­zaira's Guardian could no longer keepe her. The Queene hath recounted to you how I got her out of the hands of her enemies; and how, by a feigned death preventing her true one, I brought her into the Island where you found her. Thus ended Almaid the pleasant recitall of those Princes adventures, and left Polexander in such meditations, as wholly taking him up, would neither permit him to thanke the Relator, nor yet make shew of his admiration.

Almaid a Prince to the Christian Knight.

WIth an extreame griefe I am obliged to be your Enemy. I have knowne so much valour and vertue both in your words and actions, and your person hath so many charmes, that it is almost impossible to be an honest man, and at discord with you. But when I call to minde that you have offended Polexander, and by I know not what secret Envy, indeavour'd to rob him of his victory o'rethe false Almanzor; all your rare endow­ments slip out of my memory, and I finde my self capable of nought but revenge. You may say I have a long time conceal'd my resentment. It is true: but the consideration of Al­manzaira whom I preferre before all others, forbad me to make it knowne till this time. Now when I may without troubling her quiet satisfie my passion, I intreat you to ap­prove of it, and to beleeve all he shall say who brings you this Note.

Polexander having receiv'd this Challenge, wondred at the fantasticalnesse of his for­tune, and Almaid's humour. But it came presently into his minde that Almaid might have learnt his name of Alcippus, or some other, and this was but an invented match to bring him backe to Court. Well (said he to himselfe) be it what it may be, I will not reveale my selfe; nor will I commit an unsteady action to satisfie Almaid. After he had taken this resolution, he spoke thus to him that brought the Challenge. You may tell your friend, that for the present it is not in my power to give your friend the con­tentment he desires; I will send him my excuses and answer his Letter. With that hee opened the dore, and calling Diceus, commanded for paper and inck, and all sitting be­ing brought, he wrote this Answer.

The Christian Knight to the Prince Almaid.

I Am Polexander's friend, but I am more the friend of truth. Doe not any more ac­cuse me for being jealous of his fame. I beleeve he is courageous, but I shall never be so observant as to give him an honour he hath not deserved. Truly he is too much oblig'd to you for your love to him; and if any occasion present it selfe wherein you may need his service, I shall have a farre lesse esteeme of him then I have now, if he doe not as free­ly expose his life for you, as you would have done yours for him. In the meane time, take it not amisse that I come not where you expect me, and truely you shall be unjust, if you be not contented with my Declaration.

Polexander, having seal'd his Letter, would have put it into the African's hands, but he often refus'd it, and would not have taken it at all, if Polexander had not assur'd him he would not depart thence till he had newes from Almaid. Upon that promise the stranger went away, and within an houre after return'd to Polexander, and told him, how Almaid more offended by his Letter, would see him with his sword in his hand, and follow him to the worlds end rather then faile of his satisfaction. Let's goe then said Polexander, and make Almaid know we are not so hardly to be perswaded as he. Here­upon he call'd for Alcippus and Diceus, and enjoyning them that his ship might be rea­dy to set saile presently upon his returne; descended into a shalop with the African, and so went on shore. Assoone as he was there, he follow'd his guide, and after he had wal­ked a mile, met with Almaid in a little valley, who expected him with a great deale of impatiency. He ran to him with open armes, and imbracing him almost whether hee would or no; How now (said he) my deare Almaid, will you for a Polexander whom you know not but by anothers report, lose a person who perfectly honours you, and [Page 115] whom you thinke not absolutely unworthy of your friendship. Almaid putting on a more serious countenance, I know (repli'd he) Polexander better then you imagine; and that Prince's reputation is so great, that envie it selfe strives to increase it as often as she goes about to diminish it. Polexander should be very happy (answered the Prince) if all the world had so good an opinion of him as you, and his fortune were equall to his re­putation. Pardon me Almaid if I tell you, I know Polexander very well, and he is no­thing lesse then what you would have him go for. How! (replied Almaid) 'tis too much, I must quit all respect and vindicate the honour of so great a Prince from the outrages of envy. With that he drew his Symetar, and compelled Polexander to do the like. What (said he, in warding) would you have me bely my conscience? Almaid, you are too teasty a friend. Thinke what you are doing, and ingage me not to commit either a folly in flattering my selfe, or an injustice in defending me against so deare an enemy. Almaid for all that, still pressed on and would needs oblige him whether he would or no to esteeme himselfe above all other men. But whilst with too much fervency he prose­cuted the Prince who recoyl'd, he tooke not good heed to his footing, but sliding on the grasse, fell so rudely that his Symetar flew out of his hand. Polexander straight stept to him, and helping to raise him: Confesse (said he) that your affection is much blin­ded, and to make you know it, fortune hath reduced you to such an estate as you cannot contradict it. I will dye a thousand times if it be possible (replied Almaid) rather then lessen the esteeme I ought to have of Polexanders incomparable vertue. But (said our Heroe) the law of Armes is, that the vanquish'd should conforme himselfe to the will of the vanquisher. 'Tis true, (replied Almaid) but I account not my selfe overcome, though I be at your mercy. Fortune, by your owne confession hath given you the ad­vantage over me; and I hold you too generous, to imploy any other arme then your owne in the subduing your enemy. Live then invincible, (said the Prince in restoring his Symetar) and since it pleaseth you, continue in an errour which is so extreamely ad­vantageous to Polexander. Almaid, mov'd with so high a generosity, confess'd he ow'd him his honour and his life, and asked pardon for the extravagancy whereinto a most just affection had drawne him. But if it be true, (said he) as I will not doubt it, that my folly hath nothing lessened your love, I beseech you to affect Polexander, since he should be the love of all eminent men, and to let me know to whom I am so much in­debted. It should be no hard thing (replied the Prince) to satisfie you in those your two requests. I have a particular ingagement not to hate him whom you would have me love: and as for my fortune, beleeve me, I have more desire to tell it you then you to know it. But (that it may not be done unseasonably) I beseech you be pleased I may returne where I have left my servants, and that your friend may goe with me, who shall bring you in writing what I am not permitted to deliver you by word of mouth. Al­maid yeelding to so just a request, said many things to Polexander, to perfwade him, that next to Polexander, he was the man whom he most esteemud in the world. Our Heroe often imbrac'd him, and having much adoe to hide his resentment: and I (said he) Almaid promise to love you above all the men I know, and even more then your Polexander. With that he tooke his leave of him, and taking his friend along, came to his ship; where assoone as he was in his Cabin he call'd for paper and Inke, and writ to Almaid the letter following.

I Should be unworthy the affection you beare me, if I freed you not of your trouble, and did not rid you of that errour which the too advantageous opinion of Polexan­der hath cast you in. Assure your selfe, my deare Almaid, he is farre beneath what you value him. You have suffered your selfe to be perswaded by fame, and yet you know she is a foole, who following the inconstancy of her humours, raiseth meane things, overthrowes high ones, takes away the honour from those that deserve it, and prosti­tutes it to them who have not courage enough to make use with advantage of that blind ones injustice. But I must speake more plainly to you, and to testifie that I am not jealous of Polexanders reputation, I tell you, I am the same Polexander. It may be you will thinke me very cunning in concealing my selfe so long, and very ingrate­full [Page 116] in departing from you without rendring thanks for the obligation I owe and shall doe all my life to your credulity. But that only is guilty of my faults. 'Twas that which made me conceale my name from you whilst I could not my selfe, and would force me to hide it yet, if my cruell destiny did not seeme to presage to me, that I shall never see you more.

After the Prince had sealed this letter he gave it to the African, and unwilling he should go away ill satisfied, bestow'd on him a Diamond of a great value, for an in­gagement to remember his liberality. The African amaz'd and ravish'd with so good a fortune; witnessed by his submissions and talke, his covetous inclination, and so tooke leave of his benefactor to depart to Almaid. Polexander presently set saile, with an intent to search yet for Alcidiana's Island, or at least to meet with some of her Pilots. But the end of his misfortunes was not yet come. He had suffered but illustrious af­flictions, and it was resolv'd in heaven he should feele the most shamefullest. The season, which was not yet very proper to saile in the Atlantick Sea, threw him under the Line, and had almost cast him away on a desert Island directly against Guinea. Yet he found a haven betweene the sholes of that Isle, and perceiv'd on the point of a rock (which on all sides was beaten by the Sea) some body, who, I know not by what white thing which he turn'd in the ayre, seem'd to implore his succour. He sent Diceus, who taking him into his Shallop, with a great deale of compassion assur'd him he had met with friends, and brought him to the Ship. Assoone as he came aboord he swounded through weakenesse, and so lay a long time. By divers remedies they brought him againe, and assoone as he had recollected his spirits; O insatiable hunger of riches, (cried he) to what misery art thou able to bring us! By those words Polexander knew he was a Ca­stilian, and conjectured him to be one of those whom the ambitious Isabella sent under the conduct of Columbus to rob the treasures of the new world. Though his curiosity urg'd him to question the Spaniard, he forbore, and had the charity to call for some­thing for him to eate, to shift his cloathes, and to disburthen him of two great chaines of rootes and black barks he had about his neck. After he had beene fitted with all things needfull Polexander intimated a desire to know his fortune, and ingaged him to begin it thus: I am a Spaniard, my fathers name Alphonso de Padilla, and mine Gar­zias. We were of the first among the inhabitants of old Castile, and so much the hap­pier, that being rich we were unknowne. A desire to equalize such, who having no higher a birth then we, had a farre greater fortune; made us resolve to imploy the fa­vour of our friends, in obtaining from our Queene the permission of discovering that part of the world which lay beyond the Islands of Jamaiqua and Cuba. Wee got that unfortunate grant; and imbarking our selves, had so good a voyage, that we discove­red the Continent of the West Indies. But it cost the lives of the greatest part of our company, for the Inhabitants of the countrey where we landed, were a bloudy and furious people which made continuall warre with their neighbours, and laid waste all the provinces they passed thorough. Their countrey is not lesse dismall then themselves. Theayre, the soyle, the trees, the herbes, the waters and the very fishes kill such stran­gers as know not their malignity. My father there lost his sight, by sleeping in the shade of some pestilentious trees, and I was taken by the Caribs (so are those savages called) and reserv'd to be sacrific'd to their gods, which are no lesse cruell then them­selves. My poore blinde father, afflicted for my losse, retir'd into an Island neerest hand, and imployed his utmost both of meanes and industry, to recover me from the hands of those savages. Yet was I detain'd there above two yeares, and though I have brought nothing from that long servitude but those black rootes you saw about my neck, I should neverthelesse esteeme my selfe more rich and happy then Columbus him­selfe, if the mischance of my being shipwrack'd, had not hindred me from rendring to the best father of the world, that which I owe to his love and his care for my delive­rance. I had wherewithall to restore that sight which he lost by the venemous shade, and wherewith to perswade him by the example of his owne mishaps, that there is no condition so miserable as theirs who are not content with their fathers fortune. Po­lexander lik'd the Spaniards wit, and glad to passe some time with him; Your mis­fortunes [Page 117] (said he) have beene very profitable to you, since they have given you so perfect a knowledge of humane vanities, and owe to them a secret which is hidden from all men else. 'Tis true, (replied the Castilian) I am bound so much to my miseries: and if I can ever returne home with that deare father which is all the felicity of my life; I would thinke my selfe a thousand times richer in finding the secret of contemning gold, then if I had found that, of possessing all there is in the new world. He had scarce ended his Speech, when they heard strange shoutes from the Island, and noyses like those which men make when they are at blowes. Polexander drawne by the clamour, and spurr'd on by his owne noblenesse, landed; and hastning right to the noyse, met with twenty or thirty men, which divided in two troupes equally shew'd their courage. When he was about to part them, an old man full of majesty and sorrow presented himselfe, and intimating that his life was lesse deare to him then the lives of the Combatants: If it be possible (said he to him) keepe these men from killing one another. I am the sad cause of their quarrell. Some of them would have my life, the others are resolv'd to dye ra­ther then consent to the fury of their companions. Polexander not desirous to informe himselfe any further of the cause of that combate, thrust among them, with Alcippus, Diceus and his other domestîcks, yet could not doe it so well, but eight or ten fell be­fore he could part them; of which number, two were of those that stood in defence of the venerable old man, and the rest were of his enemies. The five or six which remain'd of the worser side, laid downe their armes, cast themselves at his feet whom they would lately have murdred, and expressing to him an extraordinary griefe for their attempt: Command (said they to him) O thou our visible Deity, that we be aswell chastis'd as our companions, since we are as guilty. Have no pity on us! and though your goodnesse hath alwayes gloried in pardoning the most enormous offences, at last let such miscreants as we feele that you can punish them. The aged man in stead of fol­lowing those wretches counsell, cast himselfe on their necks, weeping, and assuring them he already thought no more of their fault, To pronounce you guilty (said he) is to accuse my selfe. I commanded you to obey the ingratefull Perseus, and not to wit­nesse your loyalty towards me but in being faithfull to him. Polexander at that name of Perseus, remembred what Almaid had related; and conjecturing, the old man might be Abrinzias, Shall I beleeve (said he) that the unnaturall Perseus would attempt against the life of his father, as he did against that of Almanzor? Ah! (replied the old man) whoever you be, that know too well the misfortunes of our family; do not oblige me to tell you I am the unfortunate father of a child so ill borne. But if you desire I should confesse it; be pleased likewise that I make an end of accusing my selfe, and relate to you all the miseries have betided me, since Almanzor left me to follow a person which he cannot meet with whilst he is out of Benin. Polexander surpris'd at this discourse, would have demanded many things at once from the venerable Abrinzias; but some just considerations sotting his inquisitivenesse, he intreated that Prince to leave the de­solate Island, and refresh himselfe in his ship. Abrinzias consented; but before he went aboard, he reconcil'd the vanquish'd with the vanquishers; and intreated both parts to abolish for ever the memory of an act, black enough to make their nation execrable to all others. Every one promising to observe his prohibition, Abrinzias and Polexander left the desert Island; and our Heroe giving him the honours of his ship, welcom'd the good King with all the Ceremonies a Subject could yeeld his Soveraigne. Abrinzias being well refresh'd, and desirous to pay his Host for so kinde an entertainement: I cannot chuse (said he) but make to you a generall confession of my faults, and though I doubt you know a part of them, I will neverthelesse tell you all, since I am sure that those who spoake to you of me have stroven to conceale such things as might blemish my reputation. I will therefore begin by the greatest of my crimes, which were in­dulgency, fond love, and voluntary blindnesse. They have hindered me from knowing the defects of miserable Perseus, or at least from correcting them. I alwayes looked on him with dazeld eyes, and tooke him for such as my irregular affection made me imagine him. His insolency seem'd to me greatnesse of courage, and contempt of meane things; his impiety, strength of wit; his pride, majesty; in briefe, his vices ap­peared to me vertues, and I was so witlesse, that in stead of reproving I flattered him in [Page 118] his most wicked customes. The eternall Justice let me alone a long time in my errors, suffered me not to know the malice of that serpent I fostered in my bosome, but by the mortall stings it gave me. I hop'd, the example and conversation of great Almanzor would have quell'd the pernicious inclinations of Perseus, but he grew to hate what he could not imitate, and confirming himselfe in all vice, in despite of vertue, had an in­tent (alas! must I speake it?) to murther Almanzor. Polexander interrupting, to oblige him, Leave (said he) that action out of the number of such things as have betided, and do not imbrue your memory with the recitall of that assassinate: I know all that pas­sed, and how Almanzor would not you should ever know of it. 'Tis true (pitifull stranger) replied Abrinzias, and I had beene all my life time without the hearing of such a prodigy, if a second reviving the former, had not brought it to my knowledge. Two months after Almanzors departure, the miserable Perseus by the search and dex­terity of his accursed spyes, discovered Iphidamanta in the most retired part of the Temple, where with the consent of Andromeda and my selfe she had withdrawne and shut her selfe up. How (my Lord) said Polexander, did not the Pirates take her away the same night when they forc'd your palace? Abrinzias beginning againe with a tone farre different from his former speaking: I have (said he) unawares told too much, but h [...]ven hath suffered it for some cause I know not, and therefore I will not feare to disclose to you a secret which is hid from all save Andromeda, Iphidamanta and my selfe. Some few dayes before the Pirates came to disturbe the profound tranquilli­ty of my Country, Iphidamanta whom we may call the accomplish'd and perfect image of vertue, made my wife perceive that she had receiv'd some sensible displea­sure. Andromeda tooke her apart, and conjuring her by the extraordinary affe­ction she bore, not to conceale the cause of her griefe. Madam, (said she) were not your goodnesse infinite, and did it not seeme to invite me to the boldnesse I take of troubling you with the accidents of my sad fortune; I should (me thinks) have had power enough o're my selfe to undergoe them without making them knowne. But since you have alwayes permitted me to complaine, and that even on persons which are most deare to you, I will not feare to intreat your protection against the pursuites of Almanzor. Osmin and his Lady who till now have given me so great proofes of their amity, and who many a time have hazarded their lives for the safeguard of mine honour, have beene won by Almanzors allurements, and they give him such freedome as begins to be insupportable to me. You will (may be) wonder Madam, that (being reduc'd to the unfortunate estate I am in, and who may rather be taken for some bold deceiver, then for a Princesse) I should finde fault with the actions of the Prince your Son. But I erre in having so ill an opinion of so eminent a vertue as yours. No Madam you will not mislike my disapproving of your Sons inticing discour­ses, nor that I tell you his respects and civilities make me suspect him. Lady, (replied Andromeda) I have already long since discover'd Almanzors affection, but his discreti­on and your vertue being equally knowne to me, I thought there was no need of advi­sing the taking heed either to him or your selfe. I humbly kisse your Majesties hands, (replied Iphidamanta) and am too much oblig'd for your noble beliefe of me. I will strive Madam to give you cause to continue it, and not to deferre so good an intent, I beseech you humbly by these knees I embrace (with that she fell downe at her feet) to free me hence, to take me from the sight of men, and to shut me up in some place where their humorous affection, how extravagant soever, dare not trouble my repose. But how happy, Madam, should I thinke my selfe, if by some invention which would carry probability, I might be feign'd to be lost, and by that meanes absolute get me from the knowledge of Almanzor. Andromeda, ravish'd at Iphidamanta's resolution, promis'd to second her, and getting her leave to communicate the businesse to me, dismissed her with a promise to travell without intermission for the accomplishment of her just desires. My wife and my selfe were eight or ten dayes deliberating what way we should take to bring it to passe without giving Almanzor cause to complaine of us: and indeed we were not smally troubled; when the eternall providence (which never loseth an occasion of favouring them which serve it as they ought) would make use even of the villany of a company of theeves to place the innocency of Iphidamanta in surety. [Page 119] Whilst therefore Almanzor was in fight with the Pirates, Andromeda dispos'd all things for the faigning Iphidamanta's carrying away and the businesse succeeded so wel, that in the same instant when the theeves assaulted the Palace Iphidamanta was taken from the eyes of Osmin and his wife, and secretly conveyed by Andromeda alone, into the Temple of their god of Purity. Almanzor in the meane time return'd after he had knock'd back our enemies into their vessels, and met with Osmin and his wife, who un­advisedly enough told him of Iphidamanta's losse. The Prince who lov'd her beyond thought, return'd to the Sea, cast himselfe into a ship, and inconsiderately made after the supposed ravishers of that Princesse. Since that time I have not heard of him; but feare lest his love and valour have cost him his life. Never trouble your self, (quoth Po­lexander) for Almanzor lives; and now enjoyeth all the Crownes which Zelopa's am­bition hath so often striven to deprive him of. But, Sir, (said he) goe on if you please in what you have begun, and I will relate afterwards, (if you thinke fit) the strange revo­lutions have betided in Senega. Abrinzias began againe; and hastening to know Za­baims alteration: Perseus (said he) being no more restrain'd by his feare of Almanzor, overflow'd with so prodigious an excesse, that he drew me out of the errour I had long liv'd in, and made me see, when I would have bridled his fury, it was not then able to be suppressed. Admonitions profited as little as threatnings, and severity mov'd him no more then mildnesse. Andromeda who never till then thought him guilty, was strooke halfe dead when she heard of it, and being generous suspended her motherly love, to let that authority worke which heaven hath given to parents over their children. I like­wise became of the same just opinion though with a great deale of griefe. But we must confesse to both our shames we were not able to persever, but after a few slight cor­rections abandon'd Perseus to his former brutishnesse. Nay we did farre worse, for ima­gining, by imploying his minde in the communication of businesse, he might be drawne from his debauches, we proclaim'd him King of Zanphara, the patrimony of Andromeda. Wee quickly repented us for giving him that authority. He made no other use of it then to sinne more licenciously, and to make his faults more great and eminent. He return'd to Benin with the most desperate and abominable spirits that ever Africa produc'd; and imploying his dayes and nights in dishonouring the best fa­milies, grew to such a height of abomination, that he broke the sacred grates, and vio­lated the sanctity of our Temples. He forc'd at midday all the gards and defenders of the Virgins consecrated to Purity, upon the assurance some had promis'd him of his finding Iphidamanta; and he was already gotten into their Cloyster with his Compli­ces, when I came in with a greater power, and hindred the violences of that detestable route. I caus'd some fifty of the principall to be taken, and to avenge our violated Religi­on and give the more terrour to such miscreants, commanded them to be cast the next day into the den of Lions. Perseus fled with an intent (as the event shew'd) to revenge his Confederates deaths by those of his father and mother. He got an Army of vaga­bonds, of theeves, and in a word, of the most imbrued and greatest murtherers amongst the Arabians. The inundation of these Monsters was in all likelihood to have ruined my Estate; but heavens Justice, and my Subjects resolution, in part, exterminated that publique infliction. Yet was it not without the effusion of much bloud. All the chiefe of my Kingdome dyed in the field, and had it not beene for my guard who rescued me out of the midst of mine enemies, I had beene involv'd in the same ruine. Perseus, (though much weak'ned) gave not over pursuing me, but knowing I was gotten into the City of Benin, resolv'd to besiege me there. Andromeda thinking to allay his fury, went out of the towne with her principall Ladies, and meeting her Son in the head of his troupes: Whither goest thou? (said she) What Perseus, art thou become such an enemy to thine owne greatnesse, that thou wilt exterminate by fire and sword those who glory in being borne to serve thee? What wilt thou get by the destruction of Be­nin? Certainely a misery so great and so visible, as I wonder at that blindnesse which makes thee not see it. In stead of reigning over free borne men, thou shalt be no more then a companion of rascals which follow thee, and when thou hast no more for them to prey upon, thou thy selfe shalt be the quarry of their insatiable avarice. Come home to thy selfe Perseus! let the horrour of thy offence disswade thee from continuing in it. [Page 120] Hearken to Nature, hearken to bloud. Respect thy fathers age, and intend not to pro­ceed, unlesse thou wilt trample under thy horses feet this weake and languishing body, to whom thou owest both thy birth and thy Crowne. Perseus as furious as he was, yet was detained by those words: but the Arabians passing the bounds of their wonted bru­tality and ordinary barbarisme, hurried him away farre from Andromeda, and enforc'd him to keepe on his journey. His Mother seeing her selfe so ill respected, with much difficulty returned to the City, and relating to me in what ill case our affaires stood, found no kinde of comfort but in bewailing the absence of Almanzor. In the meane time a great number of those Arabian theeves which wander up and downe Africa, hea­ring Benin was besieg'd, ran thither for pillage. I, who foresaw the lamentable successe of that warre, shipp'd Andromeda, Iphidamanta, the Nunnes, and other chiefe Ladies of Benin, to the number of towards eight hundred, and sent them downe the River to a fortresse, which for its being built on a rock encompassed by the Sea, hath by our Predecessors beene called the Palace of Safety. Within a few dayes after the towne was taken (through the trechery of some Arabians who dwelt in it) and I reduc'd to a condition more miserable then death it selfe. I presented my selfe to my ingratefull Perseus assoone as he entred the towne, and opening my breast, Sheathe here, (said I to him) sheathe here, barbarian, the murtherous steele which reekes yet with thy brothers bloud. I deserve that punishment, since I am the author of thy life; and I beg it from thee as a favour, rather then to see thee cut the throats of so many innocents, for whose preservation thou art bound to expose, nay to lose thine owne life. The inraged Perseus was about to grant my request, but as he lifted his arme, a white Slave which Alman­zor had given me, stept before me, and with his Symeter strooke Perseus such a blow on the head, that he fell from his horse; and presently addressing his speech to that wretches Souldiers: Come ye infamous and cruell rabble, (cried he) come and imbrew in my bloud your hands accustomed to so many murthers. Imitate your accursed Lea­der, and permit not vertue to be one sole minute in safety before you. The unnaturall Perseus is not content to have drench'd his ponyard in the breast of Almanzor, but he would have the King his father try the same steele, and that his rage should be glutted on him, since it could not be satiated on his brother. But heaven cannot suffer these hor­rible murders. It makes use of the most weake instruments to instruct us, that it can at pleasure confound the malice of the most strong, and is continually the avenger of un­fortunate parents. This Slaves speech had beene powerfull enough to have mitigated Lions and Tigers, had they beene capable of understanding; but it wrought nothing on mine enemies. They fell on that trusty and generous Slave, ran him through and through, and after they had hack'd him in peeces, tooke up Perseus who was sorely wounded, and to make my thraldome more ignominious, loaded me with irons, and so brought me back to the palace. There was I strictly guarded till Perseus was healed. Some few dayes after by his command, I was taken out of prison, and brought to the Isle we came from. 'Tis three months since I arriv'd, and was already resolv'd to end my miserable life there, without laying the fault on any other then my self, or bewailing any of my losses but that of my deare Andromeda. This morning, walking by the Sea side, I saw those men land whom you have parted. They had order to kill me, but there was one­ly one part who came to execute that barbarous command. Of thirty (which they were) fifteene of them intended (as they told me) not onely to save my life, but to take me out of that desolate Island, and carry me either into Congo or Guinea. Assoone as they came on shoare, they hastned to me, and made knowne Perseus command. But when they were all come to the place where you found them, those who had agreed to save my life, put themselves before me, and made knowne their resolution to their Companions. That made them enemies, and brought on the Combat which you have ended. In these few words (brave Knight) you have the recitall of my long afflictions: I can accuse none but my selfe for them. Perseus their author, is lesse guilty then I. My negligences, my flatteries, and my blinde affection have beene the fosterers of that young mans most vicious inclinations, and bred him up in the practise of all wickednesse. Finish then, O heaven, finish my punishment! adde new torments to those I have suf­fered! I will accept them with thanks, provided they satisfie thy Justice, and that they [Page 121] be great enough to expiate the offences I have committed either by my selfe or the to be deplored Perseus. Abrinzias could not make an end without teares: for notwith­standing his great courage, and the intire resignation he made appeare, yet was he af­flicted; not with the thought of his miseries, but the griefe for deserving them. Po­lexander to wipe off his teares, gave his word not to forsake him, till he had brought Perseus to an accompt, and made him quit the throne he had so brutishly usurped. These promises might have comforted some other unfortunate Prince, but they could worke nothing with Abrinzias. He continually call'd to minde the ill breeding of his Son, and repenting his more care taken for his fortune then vertue, lifted every mo­ment his eyes to heaven, and begg'd from thence afflictions proportionable to the enor­mity of his offences. Polexander, thinking it was impossible to stop this torrent, let it run over with all its violence; and when he saw a remarkeable diminution, My Lord, (said he to Abrinzias) you are not the sole father which resents the impiety and fury of his children. The King of Morocco for being too indulgent like you, hath as you, lost his Crownes and liberty. The undutifull Nephisus hath no lesse attempted against him then Perseus against you; but by some mysteries which are not knowne but above, that Prince in striving to satisfie his lascivious desires, is falne under the avenging sword of your deare Almanzor. Doubt not then, but Perseus leading the same life will meet the like end, if heaven touch not his heart and draw him from this obduratenesse. Let's hence presently (if you will be advis'd by me) and suffer not your subjects, and (may be) your Queene to be any longer expos'd to the fury of that unnaturall Son. Abrinzias thought he resisted the will of heaven in not consenting to Polexander, and therefore besought him to do what he thought fittest. Polexander, who had businesse otherwhere, presently commanded his Mariners to steere for Benin, and in the meane while con­sulted with Abrinzias, but farre more with himselfe, to finde meanes for the speedy terminating the warre betwixt the father and the son, and redeeme his Sister from those barbarous parts. Two dayes was he in these consultations, and the third he de­scried the rock on which was seated the Palace of Safety. When he was neere enough to distinguish of objects, he perceiv'd the rock to be inviron'd with a great many little boates. He shew'd it Abrinzias, and told him that Perseus for certaine had besieg'd the place. With that he went throughout his ship, and commanded his Gunners to shoote betwixt winde and water, and not make an unprofitable shoote. Next he gave order amongst his Souldiers, and giving them advantagious and thick plancks, with holes in the middle for their shot to play through, told them for their incouragement, they were to fight but with poore Arabians and other vagabonds, which had neither skill to de­fend themselves, nor courage to assaile any resolute Souldiers. After he had fitted all, he return'd to Abrinzias, and unperceivably getting him into his Cabin, there left him when they were ready to fall on. The Enemy no sooner descryed his great vessell but they thought themselves lost. Their confusion was great, but nothing in comparison with that the Cannon made when it began to thunder amongst them. The more vali­ant made a little resistance, but the one halfe part of them being slaine, and the rest mightily terrified, they abandoned their boates and the Siege, and retir'd towards Be­nin. Perseus hastning along with the run-awayes, strove to get to the City; yet could not make so much haste but the rumour of it was quicker, which had publisht in Benin, how Almanzor was return'd with a mighty Army to reestablish Abrinzias in his throne, to free the Queene his mother, and to punish Perseus his rebellion. These newes being easily beleev'd, because they were exceedingly long'd for, put generous resolutions into the inhabitants of Benin. They all instantly tooke armes, and making the word Liber­ty to resound againe, hack'd in pieces those whom Perseus had left them in Garrison, and shut their gates against him when he would have entred Benin. Polexander in the meane time with winde and tide at will came up the River even to the towne, and be­ing taken for Almanzor, was invited to enter, by the shouts and acclamations of all the people. Abrinzias presently coming out of his Cabin, was acknowledg'd & receiv'd by his Subjects with all the demonstrations of love & joy, which the returne of so good a King could cause in his people. In the most convenient place he landed and followed by Po­lexander and all his, ascended (without effusion of bloud) the throne which Perseus had [Page 122] besmear'd with so many massacres. Polexander leaving him there, got together some thousand or twelve hundred men of the towne, and joyning them to his owne Compa­ny, (few, but invincible) went and charg'd Perseus before he was recover'd from his astonishment. He defeated the remainder of his Arabians, and as he pursued those that fled, Perseus was brought to him all bloudy and distracted. Those by whom he was ta­ken had disarm'd him, and minding more his rebellion then his birth, dragg'd him along as an offender ready to be sacrific'd to the publique vengeance. Polexander made them give over their violences, and desir'd to consider and looke on the Prince, to see whether he might so come to know whence proceeded the irregularity of his minde. Soone he perceiv'd that Perseus had nought in him of those famous ambitious ones, which have introduc'd into the world (amongst others) this pernicious Maxime, that all lawes whatsoever are to be violated for a Kingdome. On the contrary, he found in him a great deale of weakenesse and stupidity. His looke or countenance was rather that of a thiefe which feares the hangman, then of one valiantly ambitious who can indure no Superiour. Polexander, who would have setled him, and had an intent to subdue his barbarous disposition; bid him be of good courage, and expect from the King his fathers goodnesse, that pardon which he had obtain'd from him as often as he had desir'd it. When by this speech he had a little recollected his spirits, he brought him to the Palace, and thinking it not fit to present him to Abrinzias, left him in his lodging in the keeping of Alcippus and Diceus. That done, he went to the King and coming up to him with the mirthsomenesse of a man that brings good newes, You have no more enemies, said he, nor will the Arabians any more vaunt the devastation of your Coun­trey. Abrinzias at those words waxing pale, But what is become (said he) of the unfor­tunate Perseus? He is out of danger (replied Polexander) and could you but worke so much on your selfe as not to see him yet these fifteene dayes, I am perswaded you would finde a great alteration in him. I can do more then that (replied the King) for a farre lesse happinesse then what you propose to me. Leave then (said Polexander) the ma­naging of a businesse so nice as this is to me. Send you (if you please) to the Queene the while, and advertise her of your returne, and let me goe my selfe to conduct her from a place, where she cannot have beene so long without a great deale of inconveniency. Abrinzias after many thanks and excuses, gave way to Polexanders request, and went along himselfe with the Prince, to the place where he was to imbarke for the Fort of Safety. Our Heroe tooke none with him save his owne servants, but Gartias the Casti­lian, and arriv'd the same day at the Fortresse. When they within had notice that he came from Abrinzias, he had freedome of entrance; and being brought before Andro­meda, he accosted her with that grace and sweetnesse, which instantly made him ever to command o're those minds that were the most untractable. Madam, (said he) I bring your Majesty such newes as questionlesse will be most welcome to you. The King is in the City of Benin, and in that little time since he returned, hath not onely inforc'd his enemies to raise their siege from before this place, but defeated them in the open field, and may now say, there is no King of Benin but himselfe. Andromeda receiv'd this newes as she ought, but the remembrance of her Son repelling that joy which had seis'd her: What (said she) poore Perseus is then falne with those traitors that ruin'd him? Heaven loves you too well (replied Polexander) to afflict your Majesty with so dismall an accident. Perseus is safe, and if it be true that maladies are ordinarily cured by their contraries, your Majesty may hope that your Son will finde his recovery in his adverse fortune, since his prosperity hath beene the cause of his ruine. Whilst Polexander was talking thus, Iphidamanta (in spight of her selfe) kept her eyes fix'd on him; and thinking she knew him, blushed and grew pale almost altogether. For himselfe, he knew her at first, and had much adoe to containe himselfe, and make his affection give place to his respect. Iphidamanta who passionately lov'd her brother, came neerer An­dromeda, and scarce being able to speake, Madam (said she) you would never pardon me the fault I should commit, if I conceal'd my joy any longer, and did not tell you that Abrinzias Embassadour is my brother. At which newes Andromeda's overjoyed­nesse was no lesse then Iphidamanta's. She saluted Polexander as a King, and retir'd with her Ladies, to give the brother and sister leave to witnesse to one another the con­tentment [Page 123] they receiv'd in that happy meeting. Assoone as their first transports and mutuall imbracings were ended, Andromeda came againe to Polexander, and presen­ting Iphidamanta to him, I restore to you (said she) this amiable one halfe of my selfe, but give me to tell you, 'tis with a great deale of griefe. This Princesse vertues, and her attractive wit, are the happinesse of all that know them; and I confesse to you, though my afflictions have beene extraordinary, yet through her company I have not almost beene sensible of them. Both my sister and my selfe (replied Polexander) are infinitely obliged to that extreame goodnesse wherewithall you hindred the sequell of our mis­fortunes. I say ours, Madam, because those of my sister being farre more mine then mine owne, you have made me happy in not permitting her to be disastrous. Andro­meda replied to these complements. Iphidamanta thereto added, with a great deale of wit; and Polexander who was as well the example of courtesie as valour, made the Queene confesse, she had never knowne two so perfect and so like. Her content yet was cross'd by her longing to see Abrinzias; and the tide no sooner began to make the River navigable, but she went aboord Polexanders ship with Iphidamanta and all her Ladies; and by the favour of a fresh gale; came the next day to the King her hus­band. That good King, after he had long held her in his embraces; My deare wife, (said he) for your seeing me againe after so cruell an exile, for your Enemies defeate, for your owne Liberty, for being unpersecuted againe by Perseus, and (if it so happen) for the finishing the rest of our dayes in peace, you must attribute it, and give thanks for it to this invincible Knight. You should say King (said Andromeda.) I see well, you are ignorant of the Author of your happinesse, and therefore you seeme to be yet in doubt of the truth of such things as he hath done. But your doubts and astonishments will end when you know this is Polexander, the Conquerour of so many Nations, whom heaven, good and mercifull, hath as it were miraculously sent to save at once the father, the mo­ther, the son and their kingdome. Abrinzias, ravish'd at so rare an adventure, in stead of congratulating with Polexander, addressed himselfe to the Princesse his Sister, and spoake to her all that a wise and gratefull Prince could expresse on so extraordinary an occasion. The time for rest separating these Princes and Princesses, Polexander with­drew to his lodging and went to Perseus, who during his absence had beene kept rather like a sick Prince then a captive Enemy. He related to him all that had pass'd, and lay­ing before him the excessive goodnesse of Abrinzias and Andromeda, assured him of a generall pardon from them, and to restore him to their loves, assoone as he should make knowne he desired it. That black and brutish soule was no way mov'd with these hopes. On the contrary, he became the more proud and savage, and shewing his stupidity by his reply, answer'd Polexander, that he was not so guilty, but that he should be better used then hee was; and that the King and Queene did so little affect him, as they would bee glad of his death to establish Almanzor in the throne. You little know (said Polexander) either of their inclinations; and that's your misery: for your perni­cious Counsellours had never wonne you to those facts you have committed, if you had not beene absolutely ignorant who they were against whom they perswaded you to turne you Armes. Now, since you finde to your displeasure how detestable their coun­sels were, I intreat you to hearken to better, and to fit you for it, I will cure you of that jealousie which your selfe confessed to me hath beene the cause of all your unrulinesse: Know, that Almanzor is not your brother, and the King your father never intended for his sake to deprive you of what is yours by birthright. Almanzor is borne King of many kingdomes, Guinea, Melly, Senega, and many other Territories watered by the River Niger, already acknowledge him for their Lord. Leave then your envy and cho­ler, and acknowledging the offences your flatterers have made you perpetrate, goe and cast your selfe at the King and Queenes feet, and beseech them (now you ought no more to wrong them) to continue the testimonies of their love and clemency. Perseus by this was not wholly converted, but at last he made shew he was likely to be so. Po­lexander, who was not wont to conquer by halves, redoubled his perswasions, added consideration to consideration, and so lively imprinted in Perseus thought the feare of losing both Crowne and life, if he did not reconcile himselfe to his father, that he promis'd him to submit to all he would command him. Our Heroe to continue and [Page 124] confirme him in that minde, lay with him, and handled him with that dexterity, as I might say he tamed him; and by the vertue of his eloquence made a man of a furious beast. The next day he would needs see whether Perseus were constant in his good re­solution, and finding him absolutely setled, went to carry Abrinzias and Andromeda the best newes they could ever receive. There needed no choise words to perswade them. Those who love well, are easily wonne to believe such things as are advantageous to what is beloved. Polexander seeing in them an intire disposition to resettle him in their favours, went to fetch him, and instructing him by the way of what, he had to do, brought him to Abrinzias and Andromeda. Presently he fell at their feet, and speak­ing onely by his teares, made appeare by their excesse that they were not counterfeit. The King and Queene being as unable to speake as he, fell on his neck, and wept so long, that Polexander was compelled to stop that overflowing of naturall love. Abrinzi­as recollected himselfe, and addressing him to our Heroe, There remain'd (said he) onely this miracle for you to doe, to take you wholly from the condition of men. Yes Polexander, you are something more; and I shall not thinke I blaspheme, should I say that heaven seem'd to have given you a nature more approaching its owne then is that of mankinde. And to remarke and consider things well, who would beleeve, without beleeving you a Semi-god, that in so little time you have beene able to cure a spirit in­fected with so many distemperances, as they were judg'd incurable, so inveterate were they? With that he fell againe on his Son, and bedewing him againe with his teares, Arise my Son, said he, and let us together give this Prince the thanks he meriteth from our acknowledgement. 'Tis he truly that should be called thy father. I have given thee so ill a birth, as I confesse thou hast cause to hate me; and Polexander having al­ter'd thee as he hath done, hath given thee one so transcendent, that he binds thee to serve him more then thine owne father. Andromeda interrupting the King her hus­band, made appeare by her discourse that a mother speakes from the intrails, and that their affections are more quick and tender then those of the father. This private recon­ciliation being ended, Abrinzias desired the joy for it might be publique. He com­manded therefore all his Subjects to give thanks to heaven, for so many happinesses be­falne him in so small time, and for the better example, he himself went on foote from his Palace to the great Temple of Benin. Perseus was betwixt him and Polexander, and drew on him the benedictions even of those who not long before with just cause had ardently besought heaven for the punishment of his offences. Andromeda and Cydaria came after the three Princes, and were followed by all the Court and people. These actions of piety being ended, they proceeded to their rejoycings. The City and Court of Benin were two Theaters, where many dayes together was presented, all that a hearty joy was able to be made invented by men endowed with the greatest happinesse. Their joyes were increased by the newes Abrinzias receiv'd from Zabaim; and but for Po­lexander and Cydaria's departure they had farre longer continued. Osmin and his La­dy imbark'd with their deere daughter, and though they promis'd to themselves farre lesse then they should have expected from Polexanders noblenesse, yet they were con­fident that after so many troubles and agitations their old age would at last finde a safe harbour. Our Heroe in that voyage found, that fortune is not lesse inconstant in her hatred then in her love. He sail'd along all the coast of Guinea with as favourable a gale as he could wish, and assoone as he needed it, the winde which was Easterly changed and became South. Whilst he went off from the Continent to get to the Isles of Cape Verd, he entertain'd himselfe sometimes with Cydaria, sometimes with Osmin, and then with the Castilian Gartias. But these diversions were not prevalent enough to master his longings. Alcippus who knew his melancholy, besought him to remember the promises which so many eminent and extraordinary men had made him; and to beleeve that at last Alcidiana's Isle would be no longer Inaccessible to him. I will no more flatter my selfe with these vaine hopes, replied Polexander. All thy false Pro­phets (my friend) have in their predictions consulted with no other heavens or Stars then our two desires. In this only they have beene good Divines; they have foreseene, that to please me, they must necessarily deceive me. They have done't; and simple as I am, I have contributed as much as they to that delusion. Thou seest too Alcippus what [Page 125] is come of it. I am brought to that passe as not to dare even to attempt such things as seeme not to me absolutely impossible. Sir, said Osmin, whilst you give way to such a timerous and distrustfull passion as love is, you shall be perpetually assaulted with new troubles and new feares. I have seene Almanzor in his fits. I have mark'd how he tor­mented himselfe even then when he had cause to thinke him very happy; and by that great example, I have knowne, that Lovers are a particular kinde of men which are con­demn'd to deceive themselves eternally. Adde to it (said Polexander) and to passe their whole lives in effective paines and imaginary pleasures. This discourse had continued longer, but Osmins Lady came to them much troubled, and said in an affrighted man­ner that Cydaria was extreamely sick. Polexander ran to the Princesse Cabin, and found her not much better then Osmins wife related. She had neither pulse nor heate, and her eyes halfe turn'd in her head witness'd how much nature was oppressed. She was almost five or sixe howres in these imperfect convulsions, and but for Dicens remedies she had not (may be) gotten out of them. He imployd all his skill for her comfort, but all he did could not take away the disease. When she had recover'd her senses, and overcome the malignity of such vapours as infected the heart, she fell into a violent fe­ver. After three dayes Diceus judged by the redoublings, it would be very dangerous and long; and besought the King his Master (to avoid the danger wherein the Princesse his Sister was) to land on the first Isle he should discover. Polexander oppos'd not so good an advise. He was too good a brother, not to lay by all his own occasions for the preservation of his Sister. He made his will knowne to the Pilot, and the next day he cast anchor in a roade of an Isle which some Geographers put amongst the Hesperides. Presently he sent some of his Officers ashoare, with all was needfull to lodge, and him­selfe landing, set up his pavilions in a very commodious place. That done, he went for Cydaria, and causing her to be very gently brought on shore, carried her into the Tent he had provided for her. For seven or eight dayes he stirr'd not farre from the sick La­dy. But seeing her fever begin to yeeld to Diceus experience, he walk'd into the Island with Alcippus, Osmin and Gartias. One part of it he discover'd, and finding no other Inhabitants there but wilde beasts; (to passe away the time) he began to make warre with them. Almost every day he came to a wood which was not above three short miles from his tents, and under pretext of hunting, got away apart to meditate more at liber­ty. Now one day straying too farre in the wood, he was faine to passe there all the night. After he had long ruminated on his misfortunes, he lay downe and slept at the foot of a tree, but startlingly awaking, he thought that he heard some one bewailing, to which lending an eare, he heard these words: Weary thy selfe at last with so much unprofitable sorrow, and leave all sighes and teares to those which are unhappy, but not desperate like thy selfe. If thou couldest one day finde some remedy for the malady whereof thou so much languishest, I would advise thee to endure longer, and enterprise nothing against thy life. But since the gods and men are incapable of comforting thee; breake through this hard straite, and at last give over the being an uselesse Spectator of thy Princesse miseries. What sayest thou cowardly and disloyall Enemy to thy duty? Wouldst thou (to free thy selfe from the paines thou indurest) abandon a personage which should be more deare to thee then thy selfe? Live then, since thou canst not dye without being perfidious: but live as an offender should, who onely knowing his of­fence, is also alone both his owne Judge and hangman, and boldly executes on himselfe the punishment to which he is by his owne conscience condemned. The man had no sooner ended his lamenting, but he arose and made thence so fast, that Polexander could not stay him. He therefore ran after, and often call'd to get him tarry. But all his hal­lowing and calling was as bootelesse as his footing. At last, wearied with so long and vaine a walke, he lay downe againe under a tree till 'twas day. O how to his content did he imploy that time! He thought continually on faire Alcidiana. He blest his la­bours, since they proceeded from so noble a cause. He wish'd he might yet endure more; and pondering every foote the sentence of death she had pronounc'd against him: By what action, illustrious enough, (said he) faire Alcidiana, can I merit the punishment wherewithall your goodnesse rather then your Justice will recompence my most humble servitude? Why am I not permitted to finde a way to attaine to that supreame [Page 126] happinesse? But, miserable vagabond that I am, I may well wish, and make knowne my longings, but I shall never obtaine the favour of dying before her faire eyes! By this time 'twas day, yet was it not able to bring Polexander out of his meditations. Alcippus after his searching for him all night, by chance found him and disturbed his cogitations. Presently he arose and returned to his tents, where he found a great a­mendment in his Sister; and to divert her, recounted the adventure he had met with­all. Cydaria tooke pleasure in it, and wish'd him to send five or sixe men into that wood to discover the aboade of that unfortunate man which had such brave thoughts. Polexander having spent almost all the day with her, withdrew, and accompanied with Alcippus and Gartias, return'd to the wood with an intent to lye there once more rather then not satisfie his curiosity. He came to the same place (at least he thought so) where he had heard him he sought after, and passing through many pathes, at last met with an alley so covered that in the greatest heate of day, there was coolenesse enough not to be incommodated under so burning a climate. When he came to the end of it he saw the Sea, and perceived two women which with a slow pace were walking on the sands. He would have gone to them, but assoone as he was discover'd, one of them began to cry out as loud as she could, and drawing her Companion after her, made her run whether she would or no. Polexander seeing it, stopp'd short. Presently there ap­pear'd at the end of the alley a man, who going right to the women, and understanding from them the cause of their flight, straight left them, and came towards our Heroe with his sword drawne, who put himselfe in a posture to receive him. But assoone as he was neere enough to be knowne, he gave a great shout, and running to him with open armes, shew'd an extraordinary contentment in meeting him. The other instantly cast downe his sword, and imbracing our Heroe with a gentilenesse and meekenesse shew­ing his admirable temper: Doe you (said he) yet know an unfortunate man, who had beene more so then he is, but for your exceeding pity? Polexander imbracing him a­gaine, By what chance (said he) doe I meet you in a place so farre distant from that where I thought you? When I left you (replied the other) my intent was to get to this Island, where I found the party I sought: but to the end you may know my com­plaints have beene alwayes just, come and see how extraordinary their cause is. With that he tooke up his sword, and led Polexander to the place where the two women were retired. When he came neere them, he addressed his speech to the youngest, and before Polexander saluted her: Madam, (said he) here is that Prince, without whose help I had never had the happinesse of seeing you againe. This is he of whom I have so often spoken to you, and whose misfortunes are able in their repetition to put off a while the feeling of your owne. At those words the Lady lifted up her eyes, and Polexander noted, that though they were very faire, yet she was blinde. He made no shew of re­marking it, but admir'd her wit and judgement by the Speech she made him: At least he who was her Interpreter, spake in her name so excellently to our Heroe, that he was ravish'd at it; and witness'd it aloud by the answer he made her, and intreated his friend to interpret. This intertainement having lasted above a quarter of an howre, the faire blinde Lady stood a while silent, and thinking it time to retire, tooke leave of the two friends, and left them in an equall admiration of her vertue, and almost a like sorrow for her misfortune. Polexanders griefe was on the point of breaking out, but seeing the plenty of teares which fell from his friends eyes, he suppressed his owne compassion, that he might not increase the others sorrow, and be inhumane, by being desirous to appeare sensible. You should (said he) accustome your selfe to your misery, and thinke for your consolation that it is farre lesse then you imagine it, since you have recovered the best part of what you thought was all lost. I should be ingratefull (replied Zelmatida) both towards the gods and Izatida too if I did not confesse, I am infinitely bounden to them, and that they have extended their excessive bounty in that which concernes my owne person. Nor is it mine owne mishap I bewaile. 'Tis Izatida's misery that drawes these teares from mine eyes, and forbids me the sensibility of that contentment which is gi­ven me by the happinesse of seeing her againe. No, no, Izatida, I shall never be happy whilst thou art not so; and the pleasure of being neere thee will never have power enough over me, to divert those sorrowes which thy blindnesse hath cast upon me. How [Page 127] doe I abhorre thee, thou accursed aboade, which hast for ever clouded with darknesse the onely light of my soule! Those last words touching Polexander in a particular man­ner, O heaven, cried he, where is my minde, and what is become of my memory? With that he left Zelmatida, and running to Gartias, was a while talking with him: which done, he return'd to Zelmatida, and shewing by his countenance, he brought him good newes: I have call'd to minde one thing (said he) which may (if the heavens will so fa­vour you) make a great alteration in your fortune. But not to give you any hopes, which proving false, may make you more afflicted then you are; goe to Izatida, and intreate her she will make triall of a remedy which comes from that very place where she lost her sight. How Polexander! (replied Zelmatida) that cannot bee a remedy coming from so venimous a place, 'tis rather some new poyson, which doubtlesse will cause me to lose the remainder of Izatida. I do not condemne your feare, (said Polexan­der) but I will accuse you for not contributing all that you can for your owne comfort, if you doe not hazard on my word, a remedy, which can do Izatida no other wrong then to leave her as she is. Zelmatida, loath to contradict Polexander, for feare of fayling Izatida, and hu [...]ing himselfe, went to the Princesse, and besought her by the greatnesse of her courage and excesse of her patience, to try a remedy which Polexander had propos'd to him for infallible. You both deserve (said she) that I should give you that vaine contentment. Yes Zelmatida, you shall have your request. Give your reme­dy to my Governesse, and I promise you, this night we will make experiment of it. Zelmatida hereupon return'd to Polexander, and he had scarce told him that Izatida had yeelded to his petition, but Gartias came to them with a violl of very cleare water. He had beene at Polexanders ship to make the receipt, and omitted nothing of what he had seene practis'd by the Savages of the new world. He instructed the Prince how he should apply that water, and so gave it him; who presently went to Izatida's lodging, and suffer'd himselfe to be so flatter'd by his owne desires, that forgetting quite what he had spoken against that remedy, he durst assure Izatida, that it would infallibly restore her sight. She smil'd at his credulity, and to send him away satisfied, you shall see to morrow (said she) the operation of your medicine. Zelmatida straight gave the old Mexican the violl, and conjur'd her with an extreame affection that she would not faile to put some of that water on Izatida's eyes so soone as she should be laid. The gods grant (said the Mexican) that your medicine have as much vertue as I will have care in applying it. Thereupon the Princesse bad [...] him good night, and prepar'd her self though she hoped for nothing from it, to suffer the incommodity which accompanies all kinde of medicines. Zelmatida the meane while came back to Polexander, and earnestly in­treated, to tell him from whom he had his receipt, and what assurance he had of its vertue. Our Heroe who knew by his owne experience, how dangerous and cruell it is to give false hopes to those which are (as it were) accustomed to hope for nothing: Be­fore I will satisfie your curiosity, (said he) let us see what effect the water hath. If it have good successe, Gartias shall give you all the light of it you can desire; if not, you may well passe by the knowing the particularities of a thing which hath but wrong'd you. But Polexander (replied Zelmatida) if this remedy should have the vertue of re­storing the sight, if it could cure Izatida, how happy should I be, and how great my ob­ligation to your assistance? Truly I will presently ingage my selfe, to raise to you in Cusco a Temple even more stately then that of the Sun, and to make your name as ve­nerable amongst our Nation, as the names of those whom they adore. Yes Polexander, you shall be a Deity to me, and in all places where Fortune leads me, I will leave eter­nall remembrances of your blessed act and my acknowledgement. Our Heroe inter­rupting Zelmatida, What (said he) are you not afraid that the jealous Deity which heares you should punish your impiety? and to be avenged on your Idolatry, suspend not the vertue of that remedy whereof it is the Author? Zelmatida affrighted with these menaces, intreated Polexander to appease the anger of that Deity, and obtaine the remission of his offence, since he had committed it out of ignorance. This confession (replied Polexander) will be of more efficacy then my prayers. Before that Power which is not lesse pitifull then jealous, he may be term'd innocent who repents for his misdeed. Go on in it, and resigning your selfe to the will of that Soveraigne Being [Page 128] which is solely to be adored, be assured your fortunes and my remedy will have a happy successe. Zelmatida, converted by this Speech, solemnely renounc'd his zeale to all his imaginary Divinities, and made a vow, if Izatida recover'd her sight, for ever to adore that Deity which Polexander had learnt him. This while it grew to be night, and that parted the two Princes. Zelmatida went to Izatida's Co [...]e, and was all night waiting about the doore, not daring (so respectfull he was) to inquire of that which he expected with so much impatiency. Polexander who long'd as much as he, passed all the night very restlesse, and returned the next day to heare newes of his Receipt. He found Zel­matida softly walking and attending the howre of the Princesse waking. They conti­nued their walke together, and their discourse having brought them into a geeat alley which was right against Izatida's lodge, there they made some turnes. At the fourth, they saw the Princesse come forth. She held the old Mexican by the band, and leant on the head of little Galtazis. At which sight Zelmatida became cold and wanne, and scarce being able to stand, Alas! Polexander, said he, your remedy hath beene no bet­ter then the rest, and that Deity whom I have offended, will not have thanks from a tongue so prophane as mine. Izatida is as she was yesterday. You imagine all that you say, (replied Polexander) let's goe neere and see whether your feares and griefes are just or no. Zelmatida would have walk'd, but his legs so trembled under him that he was forc'd to leane against a tree, and do Polexander what he could to resettle him, yet his fainting still increased. By little and little he lost all sense, and so swounded and fell downe on the grasse. Alcippus and Diceus ran to Polexanders call, and went for water to recover Zelmatida. Galtazis perceiving the stirre, imagin'd straight what the mat­ter was. Something (said he to the Princesse) is misbefalne Zelmatida. All his friends are troubled, and run (questionlesse) for some remedy. I infinitely bewaile that poore Prince, said Izatida. The agitations which his heate of spirit brings on him, are the onely enemies which he yet could never vanquish. But let us not suffer him longer in paine since we canfree him from it. With that she kept on her way, and came to the Prince before Diceus had recover'd him from his swound. Polexander who was on his knees to hold up the others head, arose when he saw the Princesse within some twenty paces of him, and going to meet her, noted so much neatnesse and grace in her dres­sing, that he conjectur'd what was betided. She had on a robe and bodies of those faire Mexican stuffes which by the shadowings of feathers mingled with silver and gold threads resembled to the life all kinde of flowers. [This garment after the fashion of Mexico came but to the halfe of her leg, which had nothing on but buskins imbroide­red with pearles and rubies.] Her sleeves were of a kinde of silver tiffany cut in bands, and joyn'd together with Diamond buttons. Her breast was cover'd with a very thin and white cobweb Lawne, on which her haire waved black and full. Her head dressing not so rich as delicate, was of ropes of pearle and plumes, which making a kinde of crowne on the top of her head, fell backward and on the sides with so much gracefulnesse, that it seem'd to make Art dispute with Nature for those advantages she had bestow'd on that Princesse. Polexander could not looke on her without admiration, and did to her the same civilities he would have done if he had certainely knowne she was not blinde. But being not able to make himselfe understood, he spake to her by signes, and invited her to goe neerer the Prince. Garruca who was come to aide his Master, perceiving the Princesse so adorn'd: My Lord (cried he in Zelmatida's eare) open your eyes, and see the wondrous remedy which heaven hath sent you. O what happy moments do you lose! Izatida bade Garruca be silent, and inly touch'd with the Princes affliction, Must (said she very softly) this Prince be for ever in woe and misery, and must that which he most wisheth for, no lesse torment him then what he most feares? With that she intreated Garruca to let her know how this fit befell his Master, and he having heard it from Po­lexander, Madam, (said he) assoone as my Master saw you betweene Mexiqua and Gal­tazis, he thought Polexanders receipt had taken no effect, and that beliefe brought him into the case you now see him. Izatida answered not Garruca, but turning away her head strove to hide those teares which just pity drew from her eyes. In the meane time Diceus with much pains got Zelmatida's spirits from their deep dulnesse, and gave them part of their usuall function. The Prince opening his mouth sooner then his eyes, let [Page 129] them know by a confused talking what disorder'd things (during his fainting) had pre­sented themselves to his sick imagination. 'Tis then resolv'd (said he) that your faire eyes shall be for ever shut up in darkenesse, and that my soule which had no other day but what it receiv'd thence, must vainely hope to see the period of that night where­with it is inveloped. O thou Prophet of my misfortunes, how true are thy predictions! and what monstrous Imposters were they, who assured me that I should one day re­cover that treasure which Quasmez hath lost! Thou seest not at all, Izatida, and perfidi­ous that I am, I take pleasure in light. Garruca hindring the prosecution of his dis­course; My Lord, (said he) come out of those imaginations wherein your misfortune retaines you; come to your selfe, and looke on the Princesse who assures you of her re­covery. Those words wrought so great an effect on Zelmatida's spirit, that he arose, and perceiving Izatida, cast himselfe at her feet, to render thanks for her care of him. The Princesse raysing him, At last (said she) your prayers have beene heard, and Polexanders remedy hath restor'd you that sight which you have so long wish'd for. I see Zelmatida, and to witnesse how deare all is to me that concernes you, I have dressed my selfe ex­presly to bring you that good newes. Doe you then see Madam? (said Zelmatida) O that happinesse is too great to be believ'd. With that he grew pale, and his excesse of joy causing new troubles in his spirit, depriv'd him instantly of his sight, strength and knowledge, and so he fell againe into his former fainting. But since the resentments occasioned by griefe, grapple more strongly with our soules then those of joy; Zelma­tida was lesse while in this swoune then in the former. He came absolutely to himselfe; and looking on Polexander, with eyes which were not onely witnesses but Compani­ons of his contentment: Yes, (said he) you shall have those Temples I promis'd you, and shall be adored as a Deity in all places where the Yuca's reigne over the minds of men. That Soveraigne Being, whose Justice you have made me feare, would be avenged of my ingratitude, if (having made me happy by your meanes) I should not looke on you as the Dispenser of its favours, and a supernaturall Instrument by which it worketh miracles. He gave not Polexander time to answer him, but return'd to Izatida, and spake to her words so neere approaching impiety, that she thought heaven would pu­nish them by a second blindnesse, yea even by some worse chastisement. But that Eter­nall providence which knowes all humane frailty, and hath suffer'd them, for the exer­cise of its love and pity (which holds there the place of Justice) towards us mortals, would not punish such faults, as were more worthy compassion then anger. Yet would it by new disquiets which it cast into Zelmatida's thoughts, hinder the continuation of his errors, and temperate the excesse of his contentment. Scarce therefore had the Prince time to taste the joy he receiv'd in Izatida's recovery, but Quasmez afflictions & Xaira's captivity coming to his remembrance he fell into his former displeasures. He felt in himselfe, that he had not, either his violent griefe, or that urging despaire which Iza­tida's blindnesse threw on him; yet he suffered very much, and the remembrance of Quasmez and his daughter tooke from him the most delectable sense of his felicity. Izatida tooke notice of this alteration, Polexander was too cleere sighted not to per­ceive it, and the aged Mexiqua standing opposite to him, not onely had heard him sigh, but thought she had understood him pronounce the name of Quasmez. Presently she came to Izatida, and intimating she would discover some important secret to her. Give me audience (said she) and quickly preparing your selves to believe a verity which at first will seeme to you incredible, drive farre from you all heavinesse and griefes wherewithall an ancient error hath so many yeares crossed the happinesse of your dayes. And thou O Prince which art arriv'd to that fatall point, where thou shalt see the intire recompence of thy long fidelity, (with that she turn'd to Zelmatida) put an end to those conflicts which the love of Izatida, and thy hearty well-wishing to Quas­mez renew in thy minde. I here make knowne, that you shall all three have your de­sires; and that the same day wherein Izatida was to recover her [...]ight, Quasmez was to have his daughter againe, and Zelmatida equally satisfie both the one and the other. Do not thinke I invent fine fictions to divert your sorrowes. If Montezuma were here, he would confirme what I tell you; and if you, Izatida, call to minde the last words of cruell [Page 130] Hismelita, you will not doubt of the verity of mine. Is it not true, that a while after you were imprisoned in the lake of Mexico, she came to tell you, and calling you the fatall torch that should set all her Empire on fire: Goe (said she) thou stranger, goe, and lose thy life by other hands then mine, since the Power I worship will not have me imbrew them in thy bloud? This Speech savouring nought of a mother, how inhumane soever, makes it appeare plainely, that Hismelita never consider'd you otherwise then as an enemy on whom her gods would not permit her to be avenged. But I am too slow in contenting your longings, and publishing your happinesse. Know then that Izatida is the same Xaira, who being stolne away in her cradle by Montezuma's servants, was delivered to my custody assoone as she was brought to Mexico. Zelmatida heard this narration with such a trouble and such an over-joy, that after she had done, he thought he had dreamt of the wonders he had heard. He tried to speake, to intreate Mexiqua that shee would relate it him over againe, but hee could not frame a word; and a while stood so extreamely tortur'd with his happinesse that Polexander pittied him. For Izatida she shew'd her joy, (but with a great deale of moderation) for not being Montezuma's daughter, and lifting her eyes to heaven, her eyes that were not yet well accustomed to revive the light; O incomprehensible Wisdome (said she) which by admirable secrecies, and counsels of love and sweetnesse disposest soveraignely of all thy creatures fortunes; give thy selfe thanks for the benefits I have received thence; for I am as unable to doe it, as I was unworthy to receive them. These are effects of thy eternall power, which in one day hath redeem'd me out of all my blindnesses. I know now to whom I owe my life; and by that knowledge, see those feares dissipated which Hismelita's maledictions threw on me. I did ever believe (quoth Zelmatida, interru­pting her) that weake Montezuma and cruell Hismelita had contributed nothing to your birth. She is too faire to come from them—As he was going on Izatida stopp'd him, and her goodnesse not induring any should speake ill, no not of her very enemies, Confesse (said she) that Montezuma hath been very mercifull, and Hismelita had much power over her selfe, since they suffered not themselves to be transported by the just causes they had to hate me; but rather chose to hazard their Crowne then deprive me of my life. 'Twas brutishnesse and superstition (replied Zelmatida) which restrain'd Hismelita's fury, or rather, 'tis the hand of all powerfull heaven, the Protector of In­nocence which hath disarm'd that of our enemies. The threatnings they had from the mouth of their Prophets, were too terrible for Hismelita not to be affrighted at them, or not defist from her cruell resolution. I am obliged (said Izatida) to publish every where, that I doe not onely owe her my life, but the quality of Princesse, since she might (if she had listed) have given me no other breeding then the worst of her Slaves. Zelmatida perceiv'd well that he was not to goe further with that discourse. He there­fore replied not out of respect and complaisancy, but turn'd to Polexander to invite him to take part in his joy. Our Heroe forgot his owne disasters, to be sensible of his friends contentment. Garruca had told him the cause in interpreting to him Mexiqua's nar­ration, and wonne him to receive this great and good chance as a presage that he should not be alwaies unfortunate. Zelmatida discoursing a while with him, began againe to intertaine Izatida, and finding himselfe stung and put on by so [...]e new desire which he durst not discover to the Princesse; to give her some notice of it, Doe not (said he) suffer a Prince and Princesse (to whom I owe almost as much as to your selfe) languish any longer. The good Quasmez is my father aswell as yours, and if the Queene your mother had not looked on me as her Son, the great Guina Capa would never have ac­knowledged me for his. Your desires are just, (replied the Princesse) and mine which should have prevented them intreate their accomplishment. Restore to Quasmez that Xaira which hath cost you so much trouble, and hasten as much as you can to discharge your selfe of a burthen which should now begin to be troublesome unto you. Zelma­tida had not beene without an answer on so faire an occasion, but that the Princesse (the second time) impos'd him silence. Polexander, unwilling to leave these lovers any longer in their great solitarinesse, invited them to walke to his [...]: and the more to egge on Izatida, told her (by Garruca) all that had betided him in the kingdome of [Page 131] Benin, and the accident which had ingaged him [...]o la [...]d on t [...] Island. No soo [...] [...]id she heare of Cydaria's sicknesse, but shewing her [...] and [...], [...] goe with them and assist [...]er. When she sa [...] [...] make so [...] [...] of [...]i­ving her proffer, she intreated [...] to g [...] [...]is conse [...], [...]o telling [...] that his civilities were unjust, he obeyed after many [...] [...]o [...]. S [...]e pass'd the way from her li [...]le Cote to Cydaria's [...] with an i [...]edible co [...], [...]d received a great deale more, when (after the fir [...]t complement [...]) she k [...]w [...]hat Cy­daria was no lesse discreet then faire. Her arrivall gave so great comfort to the sick Lady, that after three or foure dayes of her company she found her selfe perfectly re­cover'd. They were yet ten or twelve dayes together, and not onely tasted such in­credible sweetnesse in their communication, but made the two Princes partake so much of it, that Polexander might have term'd himselfe happy, if he could have beene so, and beene out of hope of reseeing Alcidiana. Zelmatida (in the meane time) thought of his returne, and how extraordinary soever his joy was, he never gave him self so much absolutely over to it, but that he hast'ned his workemen to put his ship in case, to make once againe a voyage to the new world. But before he parted, he would needs try (by Polexanders meanes) an affaire, which he thought of himselfe he was not able to resolve on. To that end, he besought our Heroe, to fit his Sister so (by an Interpre­ter) as she might sound into Izatida's minde, and (if it could be possible) get her a little to unfold her selfe. Polexander promis'd him to doe his utmost for his contentment; and indeed put it on so earnestly and with so much affection, that Cydaria yeelded to what he desired. One day therefore being with Izatida, she made her by little a [...] little fall into Zelmatida's discourse, and passing from the greatnesse of her birth to that of her happinesse, told her that she wanted but two things to make her perfectly hap­py. The one was, to be with her father and mother after so long an exile, and the other, to end her life in the company of Zelmatida. For the first, (replied Izatida) 'tis so necessary to my happinesse, that in fayling of that, I sh [...]ll never be so. For the other, I confesse, that without ingratitude, I can finde nothing which should trouble me in the company of a personage, who for these five yeares hath done nothing, nor thought of nothing but for me. But when I call to minde, that to satisfie him, I must prepare my selfe to lose my parents, assoone as I have found them, I cannot be of your opinion. Izatida thus ended, when the two Princes came in where they were. At sight of them, she repented her of what she had said, for feare lest if Zelmatida should come to the knowledge of it, he might finde new cause of affliction. She was therefore desirous to prevent that mischiefe, and Polexander giving a faire occasion of explicating her thoughts: I take to witnesse (said she to Zelmatida) that Deity which with his presence fils all the parts of nature, that I wish your contentment with the same fervency of affection wherewithall I desire to see those who gave me life. Next to them two, you shall have the first place in my heart. I will beare you the same respect, and hold you in the like esteeme as Nature injoynes me for them: and promise you in presence of this Prince and Princesse, that I will beseech them (assoone as it shall be fitting) never to dispose of me, unlesse that disposition be first pleasing to you. Zelmatida transported with joy at such obliging promises, fell at Iza­tida's feet, and I (said he) here sweare by the same Deity you invok'd, never to wish any thing more then to see you perfectly contented. Polexander and Cydaria, much pleased that their negotiation had so good an issue, congratulated with the one and the other the union of their affections. And would needs before they parted, celebrate the feast of these spirituall Nuptials. For two dayes together there was nothing else done: but on the third, a new sorrow succeeded their joy. They were to part. Po­lexander and Zelmatida, though they were to take leave, never to see one another againe, found in their discretions, and in the strength of their soules, so much constan­cy as was necessary for so cruell a separation. But the two Princesses being of a more milde nature, and lesse capable of a high resolution, had all the paines that could be to winne themselves to it. A hundred times they bad farewell, and as often weeping, [Page 130] [...] [Page 131] [...] [Page 132] renew'd the same [...]ents, and had the same irresolutions. At last the winde, and the Mariners shouts, inviting both to their last Adieu [...], they imbrac'd one ano­ther, and moystning their cheeks with their teares, bewaild as much as if they had beene to be led to their deaths. Polexander tooke his Sister out of Izatida's armes; and Zelmatida having lead his Princesse to the Sea, and then over a bridge the Mariners [...]d made, the more easily to imbarke her: one same winde, separating the vessels of those foure admirable personages, Zelmatida steered West, and Polexander North-Easterly.

The two Sisters to SOLYMAN BASHA.

VVEE should be guilty of that crime whereof we accuse others, if we were not sen­sible of your honour; and 'tis to witnesse the pleasure we take in it, that wee have hazarded these lines to you; your good fortune would have taken from us the use of prayer if it had cured you of your insensibility. We begge nothing from heaven but the end of that ill, after our obtaining the period of others: doe not make it incurable Solyman, but let pity worke the remedy: We would say Love, but we feare lest that word should offend you: yet give us leave to tell you what we doe, and read without anger, that time and absence which ruinate things the best established, daily strengthen our affection. We have made a progresse from the Love of Inclination, to that of Un­derstanding; and that, which at first had no reason at all, hath now such strong ones, as you must absolutely deprive us of judgement, if you goe about to make us alter our reso­lutions. Doe not imitate such ill examples as those, with whom, the Princes favour hath fill'd up the History of this Court. Doe not forget your selfe because you are for­tunate, and if you have not alter'd your minde, change at least your excuses, since those you made to us hereto fore, would (in the condition where you are now) witnesse ra­ther your scorne then respect.

[Page 149] Soliman receiv'd this Letter by the addresse of an old Jewish woman, who hoped for a great setling of her fortune if our loves had a happy successe. He advised long whether he should answer us. At last he resolv'd to it; not to entertaine us in our errors, but to make us lose with the hope of their good successe, the intention of continning in them. See those cruell words which gave the first mortall; blow to poore Histeria, and have handled me more rigorously, since they make me languish far, far beyond her.

The Slave SOLIMAN to his two. Princesses Histeria and Melicerta.

PArdon me Ladies, if I begin my Letter with accusations, in liue of most humble ac­knowledgements and thanks which obliege me to your incomparable courtesie. You censure by appearances as well as vulgar Soules; and think I have changed my con­dition because I have changed my bonds. No faire Princesses, I am not what I seeme to be. I am still a Captive, I am still unfortunate; and therefore I must yet make use of the same excuses, which serv'd me as often as you (forgetting what you were borne) had so much goodnesse as to deigne to cast an eye on your Slave. I will never lose that quality, because I hold it more glorious then all that fortune can give me. Withall, I will inviolably reserve for you those respects, and yeild you the same duties which the law of that Servitude commands me.

THis Letter, so respectfull in appearance, but so proud in effect, did but encrease our afflictions. We therein found an absolute refusall of our affections, and an infallible assurance of being eternally scorned. Yet would we not believe our malady to be ab­solutely desp [...]ate. We intreated, we importun'd, we writ; in briefe, wee let passe no occasion to thaw that heart of ice. But we lost all hope, when Solyman departed from Constantinople, on that great designe which the Emperour had on the territories of the Venetian Commonwealth. The navall Army being gone out of the Channell, came to Nigroponte, and a little after to Romagnia. I will not relate the particulars of that war. Far more strange events call on me, and passing by all fights by Land and Sea, would have me come with the insensible Soliman to the siege of Lepanto. I will di­spence with you for this present for not crediting all the truths I have to tell you, for they are so extraordinary, as they are beyond the beliefe of the most credulous. Soly­man was no sooner gone from Constantinople, but my Sister and my selfe were almost our of our wits. We were no more restrain'd either by the consideration of our birth, or the interest of our honour, or by the feare of death. We resolv'd to follow our Ene­my. I confesse, had I beene alone I should never have put on that resolution; but I was swayed by the violence of Histeria's love. We stole out of the Sultannesse our mo­ther [...] Seraglio, and disguising our selves so, as it was very hard for any to know us, wee mingled our selves amongst those troupes were imbark'd for the Venetia war. We came to Lepanto a few dayes after it was besieged. The first thing we did after our landing was to goe to Soliman's quarter, and to endeavour by all meanes to be entertain'd in his Service. Our designe did not absolutely succeed well. Yet we had leave to lodge in his quarter, and to see him at severall houres in the day. Histeria who had not told me her last resolution, strove to bring it to passe without engaging me in it. After a fu­rious sally, wherein the Souldiers of Lepanto did all that despaire could advise men of courage to: Solyman sav'd a part of the Emperiall Army, and unawares gave the rash Histeria her life. The night following that fight, my poore Sister seeing all things op­posed her Designe, and that Soliman himselfe tooke paines to preserve that life she de­sir'd to lose; resolv'd to speake to him. Finding therefore a convenient time to discover her selfe, she aborded him with an extraordinary constancy, and without faultering in her Speech; I doe not (said she) give thee thanks for saving my life, since those good [Page 150] deeds which are not voluntary, obliege not those to whom they were done. No, I will do what I never resolv'd. I will thanke thee for a good which thou never intendest to do me; and if thou do not repent thee of it, 'twill be too much for me to be eternally indebted to thee. Thou seest (Soliman) here before thee the most unhappy Histeria, who unable any longer to endure thy deniall or thine absence, hath in her strange reso­lution fear'd nothing but to finde thee yet insensible. Thou wondrest at this declarati­on, and seem'st to doubt whether my words be true. But being never yet capable of love, thou art no more neither of conceiving to what extremities Love is wont to carry such as affect truly. Do not doubt of my being the same I tell thee. My Sister, whose alike passion hath made her undertake the same voyage, and other testimonies lesse suspected, will cleere thee when thou list, of those doubts wherein thou art very willing to abide. Soliman amaz'd and affrighted at so strange an adventure, was a great while ere he could speake to my Sister. At last he inforc'd himselfe; and raysing up that dis­consolate Princesse: Would to heaven (said he) my death had accompanied my fa­thers. We should then both have enjoyed that peace and quiet which fortune alike de­nies us. O how hatefull hence forward shall that life be to me which hath hitherto been so troublesome, since 'tis by it that I see my selfe guilty of such crimes as cannot be too rigorously punished! I deprive all at once, my generous Master of all content, honour, and may be of life; to whom alone I owe my life, honour and fortune. What shall I say to you Madam? What will become of the Basha your father if he knowes of this vagary? Nay, what will become of your selfe? In what corner of the world will your Sister escape the fury of a justly enraged father? What can I doe that may avail you? Tell me, (I beseech you) for you have brought me into such a maze, that I even scarce know whether I am my selfe or no? Onely love me (replied the poore Histeria) with a voice able to mollifie a rock; or if it be too much for thee, yet at least give leave that thou be beloved; and that being granted, we shall have found remedies against all those ills which thou fearest. Soliman had no reply to that proposition; but stuck in a silence which proceeded more from his modesty and confusednesse then his naturall insensibili­ty. Histeria perceiving she wrought nothing on him, rais'd her voyce a little, and ad­ding many teares to every word, At least (said she) impassible Soliman, if thou be not capable of love, be capable of hatred, and continue not so unmercifull as to suffer me to live. Soliman extreamely perplexed with my Sisters speech, call'd for five or six Eu­nuchs whom he trusted with his most important affaires, and committing Histeria into their custody; Have (said he) a speciall care of this Souldier, and be accomptable to me for him on your life. He will bring you to his lodging, where his brother is. Goe, and bring them both to one of the Tents next mine owne. This command was executed as it was enjoyn'd; and we were shut up where Soliman had appointed, and serv'd by his Eunuchs with so much care, that we thought his noble entertainement had beene an infallible presage of the end of our miseries. In that error we liv'd eight or ten dayes; but when Histeria saw that Soliman neither came nor sent to visit us, she resolv'd to dye; and told me, her constancy was at the last gaspe; and she could no longer endure Solimans insensibilities. I was of the same opinion, but had not the same courage. I wish'd with all my heart to be out of the world, but all the wayes to it seem'd hydeous and fearefull to me. I see my deere Auditors you grow weary of my laments, and the relation of our miseries begins to be irkesome. I am now ending it, by a bloudy Catastrophe. Know, at the generall assault which the Turks gave to Lepanto, Histeria finding a way to deceive her keepers, fought above two houres in the first rank of the Janizaries, and even in sight of our father and her Beloved. She then receiv'd many mortall wounds, and the assault being ended, entreated two of her Companions to car­ry her off into Solimans Tent. That insensible man came in almost as soone as she, and knowing her, was so inly touched at that tragicall spectacle, as he commanded all his followers to withdraw. When he was alone with her, he would have said something, but she impos'd him silence, and though she spake with a great deale of paine; Of so many requests (said she) which I have made to thee since I was borne at least grant me one: I will aske no unjust thing of thee. 'Tis, that after my death thou wilt be a little more humane then thou hast beene whilst I liv'd. Thy prayers are heard Soliman, see, this is [Page 151] the last time the unfortunate Histeria will importune thee: she hath obtain'd from her selfe a great deale more then she desir'd from thee; But she laments not the losing her life to please thee, for 'tis the least losse thou hast made her suffer. O happy, among so many miseries, if she can by her death purchase her sisters felicity. Thou weep'st Solyman, since when began thy stony heart to change nature? Hath my bloud had the vertue to mollifie it? If it be so, ô how precious are my wounds to me, since in bringing my death they end my miseries, and melting that congeal'd ice within thee, promise some peace to my deare Melicerta! What more could she adde to these words? truly nothing: but end­ing them she died, and seem'd to die joyfully because she thought it would be the price of my redemption. Alas! my deare sister, thou died'st with that generous thought, and I unfortunate and coward that I am, dare live with that knowledge! give Melicerta, give somewhat else then vaine teares and Iamentations to her that hath bestowed her bloud and life on thee. I yeeld to it my deare Histeria, and am fully resolv'd to follow thee, for I feele in my selfe I know not what strange motion which assures me my death is at hand: and that the insensible Solyman shall not much longer triumph o're my un­reasonable perseverance. But return we, my dear Auditors, to that unpitifull man: Histe­ria's death, almost made him desperate, not that he had lost her, but that hee had beene the cause of it, and by consequence of the most sensible sorrow his Bene­factor Achomat had ever resented. He was about to have slaine his Eunuchs: yet weighing that their diligence how exact soever, could not be sufficient enough to hin­der the resolutions of a furious Lover; hee enjoyn'd them for penance to take better care and charge of me then they had of my sister; he sent me a little after the body of that unfortunate Princesse, and a Jew Physician, intreating me (by him) to imbalme it: I gave her those sad duties that very night, and help'd to inclose her in a cedar Coffin co­vered with plates of silver, which Solyman sent me, with a great many excuses in that he could not himselfe give me that respect he was oblig'd to, by my birth, his duty, and our common affliction. I knew too well for my quiet, he had not changed nature; and that the teares he had shed at my sisters death, were rather teares of ceremony then pity. The next day he sent me a new Messenger, and told me by him, that to what place so­ever I would retire, I should finde a Tartane ready in the haven to carry me thither with the body of Histeria. He who brought this message, said, he had command not to leave me, and he would not onely performe it, but being Captaine of the Vessell, would either hasten or retard his voyage as I pleas'd. I have no more to doe here said I, but to take leave of Solyman; That will be a hard thing for you to doe (he repli'd) since he is bu­sied about the batteries, and 'tis thought the Venetians will this day come to a Treaty about the reddition of Lepanto. What he said prov'd true; Solyman, who hath ever been the good Fate of his Masters (ô happy Histeria and Melicerta if he had been so of his slaves!) tooke the Towne by composition, and accompanied Bajazet into it at his glori­ous entry. The day of triumph being pass'd, Solyman without any mans knowing or so much as suspecting the cause (with a few of his followers) left the Camp, and re­nouncing all the honours, riches, and supreme greatnesse, which the Emperours favour and his important services might justly make him hope for, stole away in the darke of night from all the Turkish Fleet. The flight of a man of so great a consideration, was soone noys'd abroad after it hapned, but divers dayes pass'd in the Camp before it was beleeved. The Emperour, my father and many others fill'd with the love and admi­ration of that Prince, lamented his losse, as the greatest could a long while betide the Ot­toman Empire. Assoone as the newes was brought me, I imbark'd, with Histeria's body, and intreated my Pilot to land me in some part of France or Italy: I thought I should finde Solyman there, for since he was a Christian there was no safer retreat for him. I was almost sixe months in quest of him, but all my care and diligence was fruitlesse; sometimes I enquir'd for Solyman, sometimes for Iphidamantus, and seeing [...]was all in vaine, I thought then to aske for Polexander's brother. That Name which is knowne through all Europe was my guide to bring me to Solyman. I was told that Polexander was lately become Lord of the Canaries, and being crowned King of them with the consent of all the Islanders, I should infallibly finde his brother with him. I therefore pass'd the Straits, and came to the Isle of Teneriffe; there I understood that Polexander [Page 152] was lost at Sea, and saw the Inhabitants of three or foure other Islands, so passionately amorous of his vertue, that though he were dead as they beleev'd, yet they held him for their King, and obey'd his name and memory as religiously, as they would himselfe. I enquir'd in all the Islands of the Prince Iphidamantus, and every where heard that they had not seen him: at last wearied with leading so miserable and to be bewailed a life, and the carrying about the body of my deare sister, I landed in this Isle, where finding Al­manzor's Tombe with many others, I thought it a place destin'd for the buriall of un­fortunate Lovers. Here then I got that Tombe to be built which we came from, and therein laying Histeria's body, resolv'd, with it, to end my dayes, and to divide all my teares and lamentations betwixt my too loving sister and my insensible Lover. Scarce had the desolate Lady ended the sad recitall of her adventures, but Polexander (not thinking of any thing but to blame Iphidamantus for his ingratitude) cry'd out, Our misfortunes have their source from thine insensibility, ô brother, unworthy to be named, and the afflictions which Cydaria and my selfe have undergone, proceed from nought else but the just anger of heaven, who mov'd with the bloud and teares of two so rare Princesses, avengeth on our heads thine iniquity! How (said Melicerta interrupting him) is Iphida­mantus your brother too? We may be asham'd to owne him (reply'd Polexander) yet [...] acknowledge him (Madam) and beseech you humbly to avenge your selfe on me for some part of those wrongs he unmercifully hath made you suffer. I thought till now (said Melicerta) that Iphidamantus had no other brother then Polexander: no more hath he not (Madam) answered Cydaria, and he whom you see, is the same Polexander, whose fame hath related to you such wonderfull things. Melicerta understanding that verity, turn'd to our Heroë, and looking fix'dly on him, It is very hard (said shee) for you to conceale your selfe long; there is something, I know not what in your countenance which is not seen but in extraordinary men. Assoone as I saw you, me thought you brought mee the remedy which Heaven hath reserv'd for the cure of all my mise­ries, and that my long misfortunes should by your assistance finde that end, which Iphi­damantus hath alwayes deny'd me. I am neither so much belov'd by heaven, nor power­full enough (said he) to doe you any profitable service; but I againe ingage my selfe, to avenge you on Iphidamantus ingratitude, and oblige him to give you all the satisfaction which your just resentment ought to expect from his; I would gladly assure you of his love, but you know (Madam) that love doth so absolutely depend on our will, that even Tyrants who can doe all, by the feare and terrour they imprint in our mindes, have ne­ver been able to impose it on us. It may be, Iphidamantus hath cast off his Turkish seve­ritie (in which he hath been bred) with his Turbant; and his Spirit casting by those austere wayes of life wherewithall his education hath as it were diverted the course of his nature, will betake it selfe to the path she first delineated. I hope for nothing from Iphi­damantus (repli'd Melicerta) I know too well his aversion from me, and though his in­sensibilitie may be overcome, I am most certaine 'twill never be by my affection: And when I talke of remedies, of help, of the end of my misfortunes, I meane onely such as are met with in the grave; and which by a mercifull effect of Heaven's goodnesse, happen, when they are least expected. I confesse it to you Polexander, I am so inured to teares, to griefes, and torments, that I could hardly live among contentments; and have so deep­ly impress'd a beliefe of my never being happy but in death, that Iphidamantus himselfe would have much adoe to make me alter mine opinion. Yet I would faine see him though I cannot tell you why; my blinded and uncertaine affection flies from what it de­sireth, and seekes for that which it vvould not meet vvithall: It is guided by some other, who stronger then it selfe, swayes, and makes it follovv the varietie of his motions. In a vvord, I feele vvhat I cannot expresse, Heaven intends some great matter, but it gives me onely [...]n imperfect and confused knovvledge of it: I shall vvithout doubt see Iphida­mantus againe, and see him (as me thinkes) quite alter'd from vvhat he hath been hither­to, yet for all that, I am constant to my old opinion, that death onely shall be the end of my miseries. Hope better (Madam, repli'd Polexander) and be assured, that your long being accustomed to sad and dismall imaginations, produceth all those mishaps you fi­gure to your selfe. You shall be happy, because Heaven is just; and assure your self, that your happinesse (as I may say) steales from your thoughts and beliefe, to the end that [Page 153] coming on you at unavvares, it may make you taste those delights, vvhich are extreamly diminish'd, vvhen they have been alvvayes hoped for, and too long time expected. Ci­daria, vvho vvas silent, had her eyes fixed on Melicerta's face, and noting there such svveetnesse and attraction as she could hardly resist, began (in her selfe) to be moved a­gainst Iphidamantus; and after she had accus'd him of stupidity and blindnesse, rather then of coldnesse, vvish'd, she might be his Judge, to condemne him to such tortures as vvere proportionable to his offences. Their long converse being thus ended, Melicerta vvas inforc'd to take a later resolution; Polexander and his sister vvooed her to it, and she seeing her selfe pressed to it by her ovvne thoughts, at last consented to leave her sisters Tombe, and once againe to try fortune, and contest vvith Iphidamantus insensibility. Our Heroë assur'd her, the voyage she vvas to take vvould be more hapy then her former, and so by degrees drevv her from her lodging for an undelay'd imbarking. They vvent all three in company to the haven, vvhere going aboard, Polexander presently comman­ded his Pilot to make for the Isle of Teneriffe, vvhich he did; and after five houres, land­ing Polexander there, restor'd to the Inhabitants all that joy they had forgone since the sad newes of that Princes losse. They forgot nothing whereby Subjects are wont to witnesse their loves, and besought him, they might now at leasure taste the comforts of his presence: He granted their requests, and whilst he was with them, spent his time in such necessary reformations, and profitable institutions, that those Islanders had cause to blesse so just a raigne, and to multiply their Sacrifices and Prayers for the continuation of it. Polexander tooke his leave of them with teares in his eyes, so much was hee mov'd with their affection; and with the same successe visited the grand Canary and the fortu­nate: at last he arriv'd in the new Isle of Alcidiana. The good order he had left at his departure continued still, the Vice-roy had neither abused his Authority nor his Masters absence; and though he thought him dead, he oppos'd all kinde of alterations. Our Heroë welcom'd Melicerta and Cydaria into a Palace which had beene finish'd since his depart, and which by the managing of the intelligent and trusty Bias, was adorn'd with all those rich ornaments which make weake mindes admire the quality of Kings. The newes of that Prince his returne flew straight into Spaine, and stai'd in the haven the na­vall Army which the ambitious Ferdinand had provided for the reconquering the Cana­ries. France which had a share in Polexanders adventures, since he was of the bloud of her Kings, welcom'd the newes of his returne with a great deale of joy; and Lewes the Twelfth was advis'd by the great Cardinall of Amboise to send him an Embassadour to congratulate his good fortune, and offer him his alliance and power. The Princes of Africa, friends and foes, testified either their loves or feare by their many Embasses. A­mongst others, those of Zahara sent Deputies, to intreat him to accept of their Crowne: They had lately freed themselves from a tyrannie, which was insupportable, and when they were about the election of a new King, they were so divided, and so exasperated that to uphold those whom they had chosen, they would have hazarded a battle. But the newes of Polexander's returne, presently made the weapons fall out of the hands of both parties; and they began all to cry, Heaven save the King of the fortunate Islands! And straight strangling both those they had chosen to command them, sent with all humility to intreat Polexander to crosse the sea, and come receive that new Crowne which his in­comparable merits had in his absence acquired him. The principall of that Deputation was a Priest of Mahomet's Law, no lesse a Politician then a great Theologist: He was to speake in the name of the Province; and indeed when hee came before Polexander, he made knowne by his demeanour as well as by his words, that hee well merited the first place in a Councell of State. These were the motives he used to dispose our Heroë to the accepting the Crowne of Zahara: If it were a fundamentall Law in Elective States, that none should ascend the Throne, but such a one as was called to it by unanimous suf­frages, and the universall consent of all private men, I dare maintaine (Sir) before your Majesty, that such a manner of choosing Kings would be a meanes of never chusing any. The multitude which is but seldome in accord with it selfe, hath no great mind to be so, in a matter whereto they have not much lesse repugnancy then love, and we must there­fore [Page 154] goe against the option of the most, when the question is of chusing a Master to a whole Nation. You are the first, Sir, and I shall not speake a falsity, should I say the sole person who by your incomparable qualities have put an exception to this generall rule, which is no lesse glorious to your Majesty, then beneficiall to your new Subjects. They have had but one minde, but one same voice, and i [...] I dare say it, but one and the same soule assoone as I propos'd to them the electing you for their King: Their ancient enmities and hatreds which seem'd to be irreconcileable, have ceas'd, even in the beginning of battle, so much did they feare lest their disunion might retard their common felici­ties. 'Tis your vertue great King which hath wrought this miracle in the mindes of a people, who, not to flatter them, seem'd not capable of so much wisdome: the Zahari­ans come to you as to their deliverer; have pity on the many miseries they have indured: and since Heaven hath given you to the world, to distribute without favour, those trea­sures it hath left in your hands, dispose of them every where equally, and conforming your selfe to that will which gave you them, reserve not for one Nation alone, that which is destinated for the generall good of the whole world. Polexander finding his speech so rationall and so urging, was troubled what answer to make, and neither oblige him­selfe, nor discontent a Nation which had testified so much love to him: His brave spirit, which like his courage had surmounted alwayes the most difficult obstacles, presently furnish'd him with this judicious reply.

The Obligation which bindes me to you for your coming so farre off to offer me the Crowne of Zahara, is no common tie, but your judging me worthy is infinitely greater. I will not by a confession which should be true and yet seem to you artificiall, shew you I am not the man you deeme me; but, since you will have it so, leave you in your errours, and accepting with joy a Present you so frankly give me, I will strive to live in such a manner, that my government shall give no cause for you to repent of your election.

The Embassadours of Zahara obtaining this favourable Audience, and seeing their negotiation succeed so well, dispatch'd one of their company to carry home the good newes: in the meane time they were entertain'd with an incomparable magnificence, and after eight or ten dayes refreshing, some of them tooke their leaves of Polexander, and the rest abode with him as well to instruct him in the Affaires of the Kingdome, as to ha­sten his journey. That famous Priest of whom we have before spoken, was one of those which stai'd. As one day, Polexander entertained him in the presence of Cidaria and Melicerta, he fell to talk of the Africans Warres; the Priest who was perfectly instructed in them, Sir (said he) it is not long since your Kingdome was threatned by the Armes of Morocco: Ambitious Abdelmelec had an intent to place the bounds of his command be­yond the River of Abernia, and to get to himselfe by his power, such Nations as he was not able to acquire by his vertue: our AIarums and his Enterprises vanish'd both to­gether. Of an Invader, which he would have been, he hath beene inforc'd to stand on his owne defence, and at this very present, is besieged in Morocco with his father, and by two such Captaines as are not wont to vanquish by halfes. Pray (said Polexander) tell me what those Captaines be, and what designe hath engag'd them in this Siege. Sir (re­pli'd the Priest) 'tis not past three moneths, since that generous and invincible Com­mander of the Pirates, call'd Bajazet, was inform'd, that Hely the father of Abdelmelec hath gotten into his custody a slave, or as others assure us, a Princesse which he before­time passionately loved: but whether it be that this valiant Pirate be enamour'd of that beauty, or out of a true effect of his noble and great courage, that he will deliver her from that dangerous slavery; so it is, he hath drawne his most forces out of his Island, and assisted by a puissant succour from the Kings his allies, hath even cast anchor in the very River of Tensif; and after many skirmishes, wherein Bajazet's valour hath disheart­ned the most daring Africans; Abdelmelec and Hely have beene compell'd to shut them­selves up in Morocco. The Rovers have there besieged them, and but for that miracu­lous arrivall of a Knight which will not at all be knowne what he is, the Siege had been ended above a moneth since by the sacke of the City. On the other side there is arriv'd [Page 155] to Bajazet a great aide from Constantinople: This may seeme very strange to you, but 'twill be farre more when you know the cause of it. The Basha Herzecogli, son-in­law to the Grand Signior, hath gotten leave of him, to come with a great na­vall Army, to avenge himselfe of another Basha called Solyman, who hath stolne from him two twinne daughters, and who to keep them to himselfe, hath left the grand Signior's service. & put him into the protection of the King of Morocco. This Basha Herzecogli, which is esteem'd the valiant'st man in the Ottoman Empire, animated with the griefe of the losse of his daughters, and with a desire of revenge, so presseth on Morocco, that if it be not already taken, 'tis infallibly on the point of be­ing so. This Priest very likely would have added more newes to this, but he noted so great a trouble in the countenances of Melicerta and Cydaria, that he thought it not fit to proceed. Polexander who well knew the cause of the Princesses agitation, arose to leave them at their liberty, and tooke with him all such as might hinder their freedome. He was no sooner gone out, but said Melicerta (to Cydaria) all pale and trembling, My deare Sister is there in the world a more unfortunate creature then I? I have for­saken the tombe wherein I had buried my selfe alive, as the most dolefull place could be chosen, and I see that by the incomprehensible cruelty of my destiny, this Palace wherein I began to taste some comfort, is in an instant turn'd into a hell where all my paines and torments are renewed and augmented. What have I heard? What must be­come of me? Soliman is shut up in Morocco, and my father, alas! most ignorant of the truth, besiegeth him, and seeks to be avenged of a crime whereof to my infinite griefe Iphidamantus is too innocent. Cydaria was not lesse perplex'd then Melicerta, but her discretion being farre more scrupulous, she held her peace, or if she spoake, 'twas to her selfe. What (said she) doth Almanzor then with so much fervency prosecute the liberty of a Slave? Be perswaded who list that he doth it out of meere noblenesse, Cydaria will never be so simple, nor so much overreacht as to beleeve it. Finish Al­manzor, finish boldly what thou hast begun. Burne and consume thy selfe for an un­fortunate Slave, since all kinds of objects are able to please thy ficklenesse. That Axia­mira whom thou sometime lovedst, will never disturbe thy designes, no more then she will ever heare spoaken againe of thine affection. Polexander, as Cydaria thus ended her upbraidings, came in alo [...]e. He went right to Melicerta, and knowing what need she had of comfort; Madam (said he) if I should condemne your being thus perplex'd, I should be ignorant of that which is most just and most powerfull in nature. Your af­frights and feares are extreame, that is, they are effects proportionable to their causes. Yet despaire not. This is without doubt the Crisis, the alteration of your disease: And if so be Morocco can yet hold out a few dayes, I hope to put a happy end to such adven­tures as seeme to promise themselves but a tragicall period: We must lose no time. Re­solve your selfe therefore to go to Morocco with Cydaria, and be pleas'd to let me be both your Guide and Counsellor. Melicerta thought it no hard proposition, but Cy­daria directly oppos'd it, and in her conceal'd anger, gave the fairest reasons that could be to disswade the voyage. Polexander knew well his Sisters sicknesse, but would not let her perceive it, for feare of adding to her affliction; he contented himselfe with answering to her reasons, and so plainely to remove all the difficulties she had framed, that at last overcome by her selfe as well as by the perswasions of others, she yeelded to the Journey, on condition yet that she should not be seene of any. Melicerta en­treated Polexander the same, and obtaining it, went to prepare for their departing. Our Heroe who extreamely long'd to be free from others businesse, that he might fol­low his owne, imbark'd the next day, and taking with him the Embassadours of Za­hara gave charge to his Pilot to make to the mouth of the River Abernia. At Sunset he came thither, and making his arrivall knowne the next morning by breake of day, all the two sides of the River were covered with horse and foote. Never did a captivated Nation welcome their Deliverer with so many demonstrations of love and joy, as the Inhabitants of Zahara did Polexander. Men, women and children made the ayre re­sound againe with their shouts, and ran into the water as farre as they could, to come the soonest neerer the King. When he was ready to shew himselfe, he went into a Shal­lop, [Page 156] and taking none with him but Osmin and the Embassadors, landed amongst all the people. The infinite multitude following him from the River, cast themselves flat on the earth, and renewing their shoutes and applauses seem'd they were at the height of their happinesse. In the meane time, Polexander causing a little Theater to be raised of turfes whereon he and Osmin onely mounting, he commanded the people to stand up. Assoone as they had inviron'd the place where he stood, and had impos'd them silence; Polexander advanc'd, and spoke thus: I come (my friends) to give you thankes for the benefit you have done me, and to offer you for it, mine arme, my counsell, and my life. I accept of you on such conditions as shall please you best, and sweare to you by that Power which we adore, that nothing shall unlinke me from you. But in as much as fortune compells me whether I will or no, to wander from one Countrey to another, and will not permit me neither to stay long with you, I have chosen a Lieutenant to governe you in my absence: His vertue is so well knowne to you, and his bloud which hath beene alwayes held holy, and venerable amongst you, should make him so deare to you, that infallibly you will approve of my choice; and I doubt not but you would have chosen him for your King, had you not thought him in his grave. 'Tis Osmin, (my friends) 'tis that legitimate heire of the great Abuchar Ischias, the Founder of your Monarchy; 'tis that Prince I say, who preferring your safety before his owne, and your ease and solace before the favours of the Tyrant that would have ruin'd you, voluntari­ly banish'd himselfe from his home, that he might not be a confederate in those mischiefs which he could not hinder. After he had thus spoken, hee tooke Osmin by the hand, and shewing him to the people, Can you (said he, my friends) behold this face which hath been alwayes so pleasing unto you, and not witnesse your joy for his returning? Lose, lose, those considerations which detaine you, let your contentment ring againe; and if you are sorry for not having any thing worthy your acknowledging the incom­parable vertue of this Prince; cease your just sorrow, and know that Polexander accepted not the Crowne of Zahara, but to have the honour of replacing it on his head who one­ly ought to weare it. The peoples affections after this Speech were much divided, and their mindes so contrary, that some who had beene witnesses of Osmin's brave deeds, wish'd him the Crowne; others, which had a blinde love to Polexander could not re­solve with themselves to revoke their election. After divers conferences and much facti­ousnesse, at last one same motion thrust them on all to cry, Let Osmin raigne, but let Po­lexander raigne too, the one as Father, and the other as Sonne. Our Heroë approving the peoples wishes, tooke the royall Turbant which the Zaharians had presented him, and put it on Osmin's head. Osmin who till then had been (as 'twere) out of himselfe, (not so much for the good fortune was betided him beyond his hope, as at the generous­nesse wherewithall Polexander had procur'd it) came out of his astonishment, and with­out any regard to his new dignity cast himselfe at Polexander's feet. You shall raigne (said he) over a people which by a rare happinesse meet all their wishes and felicity in their affection; they love you, and 'tis Justice, not to slight their amity: doe not make them alter their former resolutions, since they are so advantagious for them; and be pleased, that joyning my prayers with theirs, I lay at your feet a Badge which is too il­lustrious to be worne on my head. With that he tooke off the Turbant which Pole­xander had plac'd there, and would indeed have laid it at his feet, had he not hindered and inforc'd him, by his perswasions and intreaties, to receive an honour which his ver­tues had so justly merited. Osmin, overcome by the Princes reasons, and acclamations of the people, at last consented to be King, and was so acknowledged through all the Assembly: The Priests and Knights presently conducted him to the great Temple of Al­bernia, and crown'd him according to the ancient customes of the Countrey. Polexan­der had no sooner seen the new King establish'd, but he sent notice of it to Cidaria, who presently leaving the ship came ashore with Melicerta and Osmin's Lady, and overjoy'd at the hapy fortune of a Prince which had been to her so long time in lieu of a father, made every place resound with her just and excessive contentment: She cast her selfe on Osmin's necke before all that encompassed them, and left him not, but to give Polexander thankes for those favours wherewithall he had both prevented her Petition, and recom­penc'd [Page 157] all those paines and travells whereunto the care of her preservation had expos'd that good old Prince and his Lady. Two dayes she stai'd with them, to make them sa­vour the more the pleasures of Regalitie; and had she not been (as well as Polexander) earnestly solicited to make haste to the Siege of Morocco, she had kept them farre lon­ger company. The day of their depart arriving, there was of necessity, that, to be giving to love and custome, which they exact even from those which condemne it; their fare­wels were accompanied with sighes and teares, and though Polexander and Cidaria pro­mised the vertuous Osmin and his generous Lady, to be soone backe againe, yet they shewed as much griefe for their departure, as if they had beene certaine never to see them more. Polexander, Cidaria, and Melicerta, went aboard, and after five dayes happy na­vigation, descri'd the Pirates Fleet, which lay at anchor in the mouth of the River of Tensiff.

The Continuation of Iphidamantus History.

THis is the second time the King of Morocco's eyes, (as ill judges of beauty as his old yeares are unfit for love) have taken me for Cydaria. The first was when I left the service of the Grand-Signior: as I was in quest of Polexander, I was ship-wrack'd on the coast of Morocco, but never was shipwrack accompanied with so strange an adven­ture; for no sooner was I got on shore, but a many Souldiers of Guargetsem Fortresse tooke me up with extraordinary shoutes, and making the places about to resound with the name of Ennoramita, brought me right to their Kings chamber. That Prince over-joyed to see me, a hundred times repeated the same name, cast himselfe at my feet, kissed my hands, us'd me like a Goddesse or an Angell, brought me into a chamber royally a­dorn'd, and left me among many women and blacke eunuches. To this Iphidamantus added, that which he before related to Polexander; and coming to his departure from the Pirates Island, till this time (said he) no man ever knew, no not Polexander, the true cause that made me forsake Bajazet. I must now declare it to you, and not feare to con­fesse my faults, since I have so exceeding milde judges; I was enjoying the delights of Ba­jazet's Isle, and (I confesse it to my shame) never thought on Histeria's death, nor Meli­certa's miseries, when the quietnesse of my minde, and the mirthsomenesse of my humour forsooke me without any apparent cause. That which till then pleas'd me, began to be distastfull, and the pensivenesse, sighes, and Bajazet's disquiets, which I could hardly in­dure, became my most pleasing diversions; I found delights in solitude; company was irksome to my melancholy and restlesse thoughts; I learnt to sigh in earnest, and found pleasure in it; sleep left me; and I knew by my long and troublesome watchings, how cruell the nights are to the sicke and unfortunate. Though I grew angry at this new manner of living, yet I found some sweetnesse in it; one night, when certainly I slept, though I thought my selfe awake, a great flash of light dash'd all obscurity from my chamber, and strooke into mine eyes: at first I took it for lightning, but the same lustre having (as it were) dazeled me the second time, I opened my bed-curtaines to see what it was, and perceiv'd walking with an incredible sadnesse and slownesse, a young mayden which had her breast open'd with some blow of a sword: the bloud gush'd out in great clots from the wound, and the faire apparition, inlieu of being terrifi'd, look'd on it run­ning out, with a great deal of pleasure; holding her eyes thus fix'd on her wound, she drew [Page 175] neere me, and shewing it to me with the point of her bloudy sword, Looke on it (said she) as well as I, insensible Solyman, we have no lesse contributed to it the one then the other: 'Twas indeed this hand and this sword that made it, but 'twas thy disdaine and inhumanity, which drove both to this desperate action: Make thy selfe drunke with this bloud, since thou hast so thirsted for it, draine out all that rests in my veines, I will in­dure thy cruelty, so it extend no further, and that my poore sister who languisheth in a desert Island, be not compell'd to have recourse to my violent remedy for the cure of that malady whereof thou art the inflicter. With these reproaches the Ghost vanished, and I awaking found my selfe as cold as ice, and as wet as if I had newly come out of a river. Alas! (cry'd I presently) faire soule, which accusest me of thy death, thou knowest well that I am but a farre distant cause, and though my inclination would have drawne me to love thee, yet my reason must have hindered me from it. I confesse yet that I am guilty, since thou condemnest me, and would to heaven my ruine could restore thy life againe; thou shouldst see me runne to my death with joy and alacrity; but since these wishes and vowes are but bootlesse and vaine, I will make one more just and solid, and from this day engage my selfe, never to be at rest, till I have given Melicerta satisfaction. I cannot tell you whether it were the effect of the vision, or my vow that wrought my alteration; but presently, of impassible, I began to be all passion; and felt all those torments which Po­lexander and Bajazet had so often described to me: I cast my selfe out of my bed, and scarce having the patience to dresse me, went to Bajazet, not knowing well what I did: Brother (said I, all amazedly) I love, and my desire to finde the worthy object of my affection, will not permit me to stay longer with you. Bajazet will tell you if you please, that hearing me talke thus, he thought me out of my wits, and asked oftentimes to what end I held a discourse with him so out of all appearance? 'Tis very true though, said I, and that you may not doubt of it, hearken to such things as I never yet disclos'd to any. Thereupon I related to him all which had happened to me at Constantinople and Le­panto; and ending with the vision I had lately seen, I fill'd him with as much astonish­ment as commiseration: Besides, knowing my sicknesse by his owne experience, Away, away (said he) deferre it no longer, 'tis not justice that you should be exempted from the fate of your family. He gave me a good tall ship, with all such as I would chuse to ac­company me, and taking his leave; My dear brother (said he) I will quickly follow you; and but for Almaid and Hydaspes whom I daily expect, I would be as well a companion in your voyage as I am in your fortune: thus we parted, and 'twas after our separation that all those accidents betided me which I have recounted. After I had been some while with Polexander, and saw him (as well as my selfe) in a longing to attempt his fortune againe, I left him steering for the inaccessible Island, and bore up for the Straights of Gi­braltar, to get into the Mediterranean Sea, and enquire after Melicerta either in France or Italy. The winde driving me on the coast of Barbary, I landed in the territory of Argier, and went into the Towne with an intent to see whether Melicerta had not been so unfortunate as to be taken by those Barbarians, and enchained among their slaves: But my search was as effectlesse there as it had been in other places; and for being too curi­ous in those parts, I lost the hope of seeing Melicerta againe. That Towne being peo­pled with a many severall Nations, and of all kinde of wits, amongst others feeds a great sort of men and women which make profession of calculating nativities, to divine of things lost, and foretell of what is to come: I went to one of these Cheaters which was of most reputation; 'twas a Marabou called Cid Amatonis, which dwelt without the gates of Argier: after that false Prophet had done a thousand superstitious Ceremonies wherewithall he was wont to deceive poore people; he told me, that which I searched after, was not to be found but among the dead. Polexander interrupting his bro­ther, Had you (said he) understood the true sense of those words, you would not accuse your Mirabou of ignorance and lying: for 'tis very true (insensible Solyman) that the treasure you look'd for, was shut up among the habitations of the dead, and the con­stant and generous Melicerta had chosen for her retreate the Tombe of her dead sister. Me­licerta was a little moved at Polexanders reproving his brother, and therefore speaking with her accustomed sweetnesse; My Lord (said she to our Heroe) you know that Iphi­damantus hath made his peace, and by consequence we must not revoke to memory things [Page 176] passed. The company could not heare these milde remonstrances, without admiring the goodnesse of that Lady that made them, and ravish'd with Iphidamantus strange accidents, intreated him to proceed; which he did (from where his brother had inter­rupted him) thus: I confesse (said he) when Cid Amatonis had made me this fatall re­ply, I laughed at his art; and told him I was sure the person was alive whom I sought for. My art (said the Mirabou) deceives me not, and however assures me, that personage is inclos'd in a Tombe; and for confirmation of that verity, Know with young man (too faire to be happy) that this face so full of allurements shall quickly finde greater then its owne: there are Sorceresses in this city, that trouble not themselves as those of old did, with drawing the Moone downe from her Spheare, in spoiling with haile their ene­mies harvests, nor to change the course of Rivers; their imployments are farre more mortall and sad towards such whom nature hath endow'd with any lovelinesse and beautie. Those they binde in unperceiveable chaines, and by their sorcerie, depriving them of all understanding, sell them to rich voluptuous women, who finde no pleasure truly high, if they change them not every day. Looke to thy selfe young man, this misfortune threatens thee; it hangs over thy head; 'tis done; thou art lost. I went (with that) out of Amatonis hermitage in such a choler, that I scarce had any feeling of my miseries; and had not gone a hundred paces into the Town, when a women, covered with a great vaile, and holding a long Chaplet after the Turkish manner, staid me by my arme. What (my sonne, said she) 'twas sure your ill Angell that led you to the Cell of the abominable Amatonis. Bethinke your selfe well (said she) affrightedly; Doe you know what you are? Doe not you take your selfe for some Tiger or Lion, or other such beast? For 'tis the custome of that wretch to trouble the mindes of all that consult with him: I confesse, I was so weak as to stop at the words of that old Phantasm, but finding no alteration in my selfe: Mother, (said I) the man you speake of, is not so good a friend as to deprive me of all reason and knowledge: but on the contrary, hath (for all my life time) made me miserable in conserving it to me, and rob'd me of that little hope which kept me alive. He hath taken nothing from you, but he may be glad to restore it, repli'd the old woman: Beleeve me (my sonne) his predictions are all false, and many times already he hath for his impostures given satisfaction under the cudgell of the hangman to the indignation of the most eminent in this Towne. Ah, Mother, said I, if you would bring me to some one that could tell me newes of the good which I have lost, I promise to make you forget the incommodities of your old age. My sonne (quoth the Sorceresse) 'tis my custome to doe good to every body, and receive no requitall. Come along and assure your selfe how extraordinary soever your affliction be, I will finde a remedy for it. My griefe and passion which made me more senslesse then I have been fince, through that old womans inchantments, wonne me to follow her, to the end I might learne the scituation of that Island where the Ghost of Histeria had shewed me Melicerta. I should be too tedious, if I related to you the richnesse of the house, whereinto the Witch brought me: without it seemed a little one, but with­in there were stately roomes and lodgings, with furniture of silke and gold, and a gar­den wherein many fountaines mingled their sweet murmurs with the perfumes of O­range trees and Jessemines. Assoone as I was in this delightfull lodging, Thou art wel­come, childe of my heart, said the old Sorceresse; and being thus entertain'd, she led me into a Closet which was all hung with the pictures of the fairest Ladies in Africa. Mother (said I) if that pity which you lately shewed me was not fained, and if ever ano­thers miseries have sensibly touched you, doe your utmost indeavour to give some com­fort to the most unfortunate of all men. I extreamly love a Lady, as great by birth as in­comparable in beauty, and my miserie is such, that I know not to what part of the world she hath betaken her selfe: She is in no lesse care for thee my sonne, (repli'd the Witch) then thou art for her; cheere up then, and assure thy selfe, that ere long you shall both receive the contentment you seeke after. This discourse was a wonder to me, never­thelesse, since we easily beleeve what we wish, I imagin'd this woman would not have promis'd me a thing so assuredly, if it had not beene in her power. I intreated her to let me see assoone as she could the effect of her promises. How (said she) what? dost thou not see it? I with that turned my head, and saw at the closet dore a young Lady [Page 177] very lovely and richly clad, whom I thought to have othertimes seen; but I knew it was not Melicerta, and as I would have found fault with the Witch for deceiving me, that Lady cast her selfe about my necke, and moistning me with her teares, Is it possi­ble (deare Solyman) said she, that thy insensibilitie should continue still? Doest thou not repent thee of the griefes thou hast made me suffer by thy neglect and flight? It is al­most a yeare that I have sought thee, and neither the thought of my birth, the feare of dangers, nor the duty I owe my father, have been able to detaine me. I have crossed all the Mediterranean, got into the Ocean, and finally not knowing where to finde thee, retir'd to this Towne: For these eight dayes I have enquired diligently after thee, I have imployed all the Sooth sayers and Magicians, to learne what place hid thee from my inquiry, but none could satisfie my passion. This aged woman onely mov'd with my affliction kept me in hope of seeing thee againe; and as one day (to please me) she shewed me thy amiable face in her inchanted glasse, on an instant she snatch'd away that powerfull crystall, and cri'd to me, runne; for at this very time Solyman passeth by the windowes of your chamber. My love making me forget what was seemly, made me run not onely to the window, but into the street to imbrace thee; thou vanishedst from mine eyes, and for all that I could doe from that day hitherto, it hath been out of my power of seeing thee againe: This faithfull companion of my miseries seeing how extreame they were, was willing to mitigate them by her art; and going forth hence this morning, Daughter (said she) give over your teares, and put on againe your former blithenesse; this day thou shalt fee thy insensible faire one; I gave credit to her words, and see they were not frivolous. I hold thee now my deare Solyman, and protest that nothing but death shall separate me from thee. The kindnesses and talke of that Lady had so disturb'd the little sense was left me, that all I could doe was to looke on her with mine eyes, all threatning and full of anger. Shee on the contrary cast her a­morous glances on me, and beseeching for some pity on her afflictions; Alas (said she) is it possible that the unfortunate Ennoramita must eternally intreate and never be heard? At that name, I remembred that she who spake to me was the same daughter to the King of Tunis, whose young errours I have related to you, and found my selfe extreamly pusled; yet faining not to be so; Rather (said I) Ennoramita is it possible, that so great a Princesse as your selfe, should so abandon the place of her birth, and ta­king on the trade of a vagabond and lost one, have so little care of her reputation? Let some other then thee (cruell Solyman, repli'd she) upbraid me for that fault: For thine owne part, thou shouldst like it, and canst not with justice deny it a recompence; I confesse, the anger of seeing my intentions cross'd by this fatall meeting, carried me beyond what was fitting; I laid on her a thousand more imputations; I condemn'd her furie and blindnesse, and having often threatned the old Witch, I strove to get my selfe out of the hands of these two enraged creatures. Deare Solyman (said Ennoramita) forsake me not in the estate I am; I have not much longer to live, since thou canst not indure that I should love thee: stay but a little and thou shalt see thy selfe freed from this miserable wretch. The old woman, who as I have heard since, had been the Prin­cesse nurse, and had made her undertake her voyages with an assurance of finding me; had rather see me perish then not content Ennoramita's passion. I cannot tell you whe­ther it were by words, by soft feelings, or other witch-craft; but in the very instant that I went out of the closet into the chamber by which I came; I felt my selfe strucken as with the stab of a ponyard, and losing all knowledge, fell in a swoune on the floore. I cannot tell you what Ennoramita and the Sorceresse did during my trance; but when I came to my selfe, I found me in a bed, without any memory of what had passed. I forgot Melicerta, I remembred not my voyage, I had cast mine owne selfe so farre in oblivion, that there remained no more knowledge of it in me, but that me thought I was not the same I had beene. Notwithstanding, Ennoramita' charme had a successe farre differing from that which Dircé (so was her Nurse call'd) had promis'd her. In stead of loving and sighing for her, me thought I saw (when she appear'd) something most horrible; and often times taking her in my visions for the bloudy and mournefull Ghost of Histeria as I had seen her; Alas! (cri'd I) follow me no more! I confesse fair Princesse I am guilty of death; I have stroke that ponyard into thy breast, but be satis­fied [Page 178] by my ruine, and expose me no longer to these cruell serpents which continually burne me, but kill me not. Ennoramita grew almost desperate to see how I was, and wish'd every day that her Nurse could breake the charme she had given me: but being lesse able to suppresse the ill then to cause it, she advis'd the Princesse to carry me to Tu­nis in a maydens habit; to which Ennoramita consenting, and making preparation for all things needfull to the voyage, departed, assoone as she saw a little diminution of my frenzy. By her returne, she restor'd to the King her father, the life she had almost de­priv'd him of by her flight. That Prince, who without doubt had by his example con­tributed to his daughters follies, treated her as his companion, rather then as if he had been her father. He was pacified in keeping her more carefully then before times, and to di­vert her immodest affections resolv'd to visit her every day after dinner. For my selfe, who passed from my former frenzy into so deep a melancholy, that I did nothing but sigh and weep, and made Ennoramita's life so irksome, that she had infallibly slaine her selfe if the Nurse had not at all times assur'd her, that as my frenzy was turn'd into a melancholy, so that melancholy waxing away by little, I would become such a man as she had alwayes wish'd me. In the meane time, the King of Tunis casting his eyes on me, took me for what I was not, and would needs know of his daughter where I was bought: she fitted him a leafing, and said, That seeing me at Argiers in the market where they sold slaves, my comelinesse gave her a minde to buy me; and were it not for the griefe which disquiets her, she were the most pleasing creature in the world. Alas! what ailes [...] she (ask'd the King her father?) 'Tis a strange griefe repli'd Ennoramita: she hath so passionately loved a Canarian, that losing him by a tragicall accident, she hath never since given over her fighes and lamentations. This melancholy, in lieu of lesning by time, still encreaseth; and from time to time so disquiets the poore mayden, that none without pity can see her actions or heare her complaints. Heare I beseech you a strange example of our fantastik­nesse; That King who was no more master of his wits then Ennoramita, had seene me divers times, and though he thought me a maiden, and beleev'd me faire, yet had he not intimated any affectation toward me: but no sooner had he heard the tale his daughter invented, but he tooke a particular pleasure to entertaine me, and imploy'd all his best Rhetoricke in the Essaying to sweeten my sorrowes. He spoke to me of my pretended lover, held his condition happy, since it made him receive so great proofes of my love; and protested to me he would not complaine of his fortune, if by his death he could bring me to the like resentment. To this I answered with fighes and teares, and that franticke Prince found lovelinesse in my melancholy: he pleas'd himselfe in it, and stirr'd not from me; at last he was constrain'd to let his passion breake forth, and to satisfie it, to take his Rivall (I would say his daughter) for his confident. Imagine whether I were not happy in having but one part of my reason at that time; and what a redoubling of tor­tures it had been to me, if being perpetually to oppose the folly of the father and the love of the daughter; I had besides been afflicted with the remembrance of Melicerta. Enno­ramita's Nurse labour'd on one side to annihilate her former charme by a second, but not being able to doe it without putting me to extreame violences, she so altered the body to comfort the spirit, that I fell ill of a sickness which all the Physicians of Tunis at first held incurable. After a continuall feaver of forty dayes, and a weakning of all parts of my body, so generall, that there was nothing left me but my sight, I beganne to feele some small ease; I then began fully to know my selfe, and ask'd (alone) where I was; since when and how I fell sicke, and why I had given over the quest of Melicerta. By little and little my memory came againe, and though it shew'd me, one after another, the Ide­a's of such things as had betided me before I fell into the hands of Ennoramita, yet could it not make me call to minde what had befalne me since: As I troubled to know the se­quele of my adventures, Ennoramita came to see me, and commanded all those that were in my chamber to with-draw. When she was alone, she fell on her knees, and taking my right hand which was out of the bed, By this hand which I kisse, said she, and by this sub­mission wherewithall I implore thy goodnesse, deare Solyman, pardon me those faults which the excesse of my love have made me commit against thee. I confesse I am unwor­thy thy love, since I would have purchas'd it by other charmes then those of my affecti­on and perseveranee: but if I have judges a little more pitifull then thy selfe, I shall finde [Page 179] mercy. For tell me lovely Soiyman, what faults are pardonable, if that of too much love deserves to be punished? The Princesses speech did renew in my memory, but confusedly, some particularities of my sicknesse, and that reiterating the desire I had to know all: Faire Princesse (said I) the unfortunate Solyman knows too wel theeffects of love, to condemn as criminal the actions to which he enforceth us. Al that his absolute power make us undertake is just, and if some one think otherwise, he knows not what love is. After this, fear not faire Princesse to declare what you have done to me; & know that we never understand better how violent a passion is, but when it puts on such as it possesseth to actions extreamely violent. May I beleeve, replied Ennoramita, that 'tis from thy selfe, and not the vertue of some new charme, which gives thee so favourable thoughts, and makes thee so pitifull? If it be so, let Fate doe its worst, I will never thinke my estate unhappy. Ennoramita, having put on this resolution, related to me all that I have told you, and the meanes she made use of, to try the overcomming my insensibility. Afterwards she acquainted me with the causes of my last sicknesse, and suddainely casting her selfe on me; Deare Solyman (said she) I say not, if thou love me, but if thou hast pity on a Princesse who is even mad for thy love hinder me (since 'tis in thy power) from losing mine honour with my life. Thou hast both in thy hands. Deale with them as a man truly generous, and strive to constraine thy selfe a little, that the King my father may not discover how I have beguil'd him. I aske thee nothing, but that thou faigne thy selfe to be a maiden, and induring the love he beares thee▪ be so noble as to draw me out of a labyrinth whose intricacies thou onely canst winde through.

Instead of answering the Princesse, I began to reflect on her miseries and mine owne; and exclaiming against heaven; Justice eternall (said I) which raignest over us, why intendest thou to inflict such strange punishments on poore miserable crea­tures, which are but the play-toyes of our passions, and the examples of a deplorable weakenesse? And thou unfortunate Princesse, (then I addressed my selfe to Ennora­mita) what pretend'st thou by thy obstinate affection? Thou lovest a wretch that can­not love thee. I must needs confesse it, I love as well as thee, and my love as well as thine, is accompanied with so cruell a destiny that it cannot attaine to what it aspires. Thou follow'st me, and I follow another. I flye from thee, and by another am as fast fled from. Thou intreatest I would have pity on thee, I grant it, provided thou be not unpitifull to me. Let's do the like one for another; and since our diseases are equally dangerous, let us run both to the same remedy. 'Tis fit I should conforme my selfe to your opinion (replied Ennoramita) but 'tis impossible for me. I wish thy peace, and yet I cannot chuse but disturbe it. Yet I am not desperate of being able to please thee, but thou must give me a great deale of time to performe a matter of that difficul­ty. Grant me that which I request thee, and I will yeeld to what you desire. This last word so seis'd on the Princesses heart, that she was neere suffocated in pronouncing it. The teares fell abundantly from her eyes, and her sighes impetuously driving out one another, resembled the impetuous course of a torrent which had overflowed the damme that oppos'd it. No sooner was she a little resettled, but the King her father came into my chamber, and accosting me with a countenance that witnessed how deare my life was to him: Now (said he) I perceive my prayers have beene heard, and heaven hath granted to my Sacrifices the recovery of faire Philomela, ('twas under that name En­noramita made me passe for a maid.) And truly (said he) it had beene too rigorous, had it condemned to a precipitated death, or to a perpetuall languishment, a beauty, which for its owne glory, merits not onely to live long on earth, but to be there perpe­tually happy. Sir (replied I) if ought could give me comfort in my sad fortune, I had met it in the entertainement I receive from your Majesty and the Princesse your daughter. But alas! the misery I am falne in is so great, that not onely it can have no end, but it even deprives me of the capacity of being comforted. Melicerta is dead, and by consequence there is no more happinesse left for me in the world. The deare name of Melicerta renewing within me the sense of those miseries whereunto I had exposed her, drew such abundance of teares from mine eyes, that Muley Hassen could not doubt the truth of my losse. He thought it fit, (seeing me so sensible of my misfortune) not to [Page 180] discover any griefe of his owne. He therefore contented himselfe in making appeare to me by reasons and examples, that 'twas a thing unheard of among men to love that which had no existence. But (he added) I hope, the same hand which hath redeemed you from the grave, will free you from these mournfull and funerall cogitations which are so fatall to your repose. Many other words he us'd which I will not repeate, and 'twas very late ere he went from me. As long as my extreame weaknesse forced me keep my bed, all the day and part of the night I had with me either the father or the daughter; assoone as the one left me, the other tooke the place, and both of them spea­king to me of their affection, in lieu of afflicting (as you may imagine) they comfor­ted me; since they represented to me mine owne. I utter'd boldly before them both, the deare name of Melicerta: I besought her to heare my laments, to thinke how my constancie was assaulted, and to give it the vertue of continuing victorious. When I spoke thus before Ennoramita, Shall I (said she) make my prayers contrary to thine, or implore heaven not to heare thee? In one same instant my affection commands and forbids it, it would have me love thee owne for mine sake, and by the same reason wish the losse of Melicerta: on the other side, it would have me love thee for thy sake, and by consequence pray for Melicerta's safetie. Thus that happie enamour'd Lady is not onely beloved by him she affecteth, but is affected by what she persecuteth: Againe, Solyman in this contestation meets both with his content and glory; he satisfies his passion in resisting what opposeth it, and by the power of her allurements, makes Me­licerta triumph on her Rivall. Thou art alone, ô infortunate Ennoramita, the person on whom Heaven powres all its choler, and Love hath chosen as a victime which must be sacrific'd for the happinesse of Solyman and Melicerta. The Princesses passion still furnish'd her with so many new thoughts, that I had need of a wonderfull memorie to retaine them: The King her father produc'd no lesse, and seeing in the declining of my sicknesse, that my mirthsomnesse came againe with my strength, he thought Me­licerta began to be worne out of my memorie. That opinion gave him the boldnesse to discover his love to me, and intimating that he would not treate me as other beauties which he kept shut up for his pleasure; he at first promis'd me the Crowne of Tunis. Your vertue (said he) and beautie which are both extraordinary, exempt you from the Law of indifferent personages. I will suspend the customes of the Kings my Predeces­sours, to teach all Barbary, that a merit without comparison, may worke something without example. Philomela shall be plac'd in the Throne, without feare of compa­nions or Rivall; and if her vertue cannot indure in my Palace, any subjects of impuritie, from this houre I breake open the doores of my Seraglio, and give both libertie and ho­nour to so many faire slaves as the chance of warre hath given me. To all these faire promises I continually oppos'd my inabilitie of accepting them, and the losse of Meli­certa. 'Twas a great deale worse when I had absolutely recovered my health, and that the beautie (which I will beleeve I had for feare of disobliging Cydaria) taking new vigour, shone in the eyes of Muley Hassen (as he told me) like the Sunne when after his leaving the Tropicke of Capricorne, he ascends towards that of Cancer. But leave we at last these extravagancies of love, and (since 'tis the will of Fate) end this Comedie by a tragicall Catastrophe. Muley Hassen and Ennoramita, meditated on nothing but how to become masters of a place which they had so long and vainly assaulted; when they themselves were set on by the Garrison of Argiers, who had correspondencie with some inhabitants of Tunis: The Towne was instantly wonne, and the Palace be­set, before Muley could resolve whether he should defend himselfe or flie; the Turkes (who knew his cowardise) urg'd him to yeeld, and after two daies battering wonne it by force. See what love can doe? Muley, fearing more my losse then his owne, no sooner saw the Turkes enter the Court of his Palace, but he ran to my chamber, and staying at the dore with his sword and buckler, made them see, that he who wanted a courage to defend his Crowne and life, had an extraordinarie one to maintaine his passi­on and protect his pretended Mistresse. The most resolute Turkes gave ground before the blowes of that Prince, and seeing their obstinacie to contest with him, did but serve to ruine them, they talk'd to him of his safetie, and that he should not hazard with his owne person, his daughter, and people. Ah traitours cri'd the Prince, you have not vio­lated [Page 181] your faith, and forc'd my City, with an intent to have a care either of me or mine; No, I will die like a King, and not doe as those infamous Princes, who to prolong an unfortunate life, cowardly present their neck and arms to the fetters of your Tyrant. With that he flew among the Turkes, and though they had command not to kill him, yet the necessity of defending themselves, made them neglect that order. Assoone as I saw him fall at the feet of his enemies, I was touched with an extreame shame for counterfeiting so long the maids part. In a rage I flung out of Ennoramita's armes, who besought me, not to hazard my selfe, and seising on a Cymitar and Target which were falne from a dying Turke, I flew on those that were entred my chamber: some of them I slew, and drove out the rest; I thinke verily that the respect to my sexe, bridled the Turkes fury; for exposing my selfe as I did to their arrowes and swords, it had been very easie for them to have given me my pasport with Muley Hassen. Ennoramita, seeing me in that dan­ger, forgot what she was, and the feare of my losse causing a neglect of her preservation; she ran after me, and as my buckler boldly defi'd death which inviron'd her on all sides. One while the Turkes in respect to of her, retaining their fury, she fell on her knees, and imploring their pity; Take my Crowne (said she) and leave me this companion of my miseries; but as she would have gone on with her petition, an arrow, shot at randome stroke through her tongue, and passing on, so dangerously hurt her, that she fell downe halfe dead: presently she cast her eyes upon me, and calling me with a weake and piti­full voice, Deare Solyman (said she) what a favourable shot was this, since in depriving me of my life, it hath taken away my feare of losing thee? As she ended these words, the bloud choaked her, and I (who thought I could not live without shame, did I not re­renge the death of the father and the daughter) so provoked those which would have spar'd me, that they lost all respect, and left me for dead between Muley and Ennoramita. The Basha Aladin who commanded the forces of Argier, hearing that one onely Lady resisted a great many Turkes, sent word, they should beware of wronging me, and pre­sently after came to see me; but he found me among the dead, and witnessing he was ex­treame angry at it, would have had all those Souldiers undergoe the edge of the sword, whom he thought authors of my death. He drew neere, to see whether I were absolute­ly dead, and perceiving in me some remainder of life, commanded his guard to take me up, and brought me into the chamber of the too generous Ennoramita. His extraor­dinary care of me sav'd my life, and the warinesse wherewithall I conceal'd what I was, thriv'd so happily, that I was alwayes taken for a woman and so look'd after. The Turkes being absolute masters of the Towne, and not weeting from whence any force could come strong enough to trouble them in their conquest, gave themselves over to all kinde of liberty. But when they thought least on it, they were set on by a Cozen to the late King (called as himselfe) Muley Hassen, and whom the jealousies of State had ba­nished into Mezila, which is on the confines of the Numidian deserts. That Prince understanding the devastation of his countrey, got together a great many Arabians, which usually frequented that Towne, and assembling all the souldier-like of Distef, of Necan, of Thefas, and of Thebessa, fell, unlooked for, into the City of Tunis, cut part of the Turkes in pieces, and compell'd the rest to retire shamefully to Argiers. Thither was I convay'd by the Basha's Eunuches, and so carefully garded, that when I strove to escape, I found all meanes depriv'd me, and all wayes shut up: but love who had brought me to this precipice found a way to draw me out againe. A little while after Aladin's re­turne to Argier, the same Abdelmelec whom Almanzor lately slew, came thither with a glorious traine, and having treated about divers things with the Basha, acquir'd his love so farre as to live with him like a brother. The Basha desirous to give him an extraor­dinary testimoniall of it, brought him one night into my chamber, and having given him time enough to looke on me; Her valour (said he) is no lesse rare then her beauty. Abdelmelec presently knew me, not for Iphidamantus, but for Cydaria; I knew him too, and instantly plotted to make use it; neverthelesse I feign'd as I had never seen him, and he did the like by me: We had besides liv'd long enough among the Turkes, to take no­tice how suspicious they were, and how jealous of what they lov'd. Abdelmelec af­ter he had dispatch'd all with the Basha, return'd to Morocco, and Aladin being call'd backe to Constantinople, made ready for a voyage that must cost him his life. The very [Page 182] day Abdelmelec was to goe thence, a Blacke-Moore woman, who went for a foole in the Basha's house, coming (as she was wont to doe) into my chamber for my diversion, as she danc'd about, let fall at my feet a Cane which she held in her hand. By the signe she made to me, I presently understood by her letting it fall, there was somewhat in it; I therefore tooke it up, and keeping it in my hand till I was in bed, I broke it, (when my women were with-drawne) and found a paper with these words: ‘If the faire Ennoramita preferre not the inglorious servitude wherein she lives, before the honours which are assur'd her in Morocco, she will con­tribute somewhat to the enterprise now in hand for her deliverance.’

Ravisht with this advertisement, I spent the whole night waking, and did nothing but invent meanes to make good use of the occasion was offer'd me; I found no way better then to leave my selfe to be guided by those that labour'd for my liberty. Assoone therefore as it was day, I made this answer to the note I received: ‘To beleeve that a Captive delights in his irons, and refuseth an honoura­ble liberty, is to suspect him of folly or stupidity: Who ere ye be chari­table friends to the distressed, goe on in your designe, and expect from me all the assistance I owe my selfe.’

This Ticket I put into one piece of the broken Cane, and when the Black-moore came againe, I threw it at her head: she tooke up both the pieces, and after she had sufficiently rail'd at me, went away. In almost eight dayes I heard no more newes of my foole, nor knew any thing of those which had promis'd to assist me: In the meane time the Basha gave order for his voyage, and so hastned all things, that he was ready to be gone fifteene dayes sooner then was thought on. The day of his departure being come, I leave you to imagine to what passe I was brought, I saw the furniture taken out of my chamber; I noted my being watch'd by almost twenty Eunuches, and seven or eight old women that seldome forsooke me; I perceiv'd my selfe ready to be ship'd and carried to Constan­tinople. In this extremity, my resolution was (if all other help failed) to throw my selfe headlong into the sea. On the instant, some ill newes the Basha received from his friends at the Port, so astonished him, that he forgot his accustomed care of his Mistresse; and 'twas well seen by his perplexity and disquiet that the Divan made ready a strange wel­come for him. Every one imbark'd in a hurry; they brought me to the haven, and al­ready had I one foot in the skiffe that was to carry me to our gally, when some twenty or thirty men coming out of a backe creeke, with their Cymiters in their hands fell on the weake and fearfull troupe that were with me. They quickly dispersed my Eunuches and women, and having taken me, conveyed me into a Galliot, which lay close within the creeke. Presently the alarme was given on shore, and in the Basha's ship; every one cryed that Ennoramita was taken away, but their cryes were in vaine, for the little Gal­ley wherein I was, sailing with an incomparable swiftnesse, quickly got out of sight of Aladin's ship, and the coast of Argier. I thought on nothing lesse then on my Ne­gro, when she came and fell on my neck: she asked me whether those of her countrey had any wit, and whether she had not been cunning enough. I repli'd, her service deserv'd a good reward, and that, I did promise, with her liberty, so soone as I could get free my self. She answered me, that she had already in part received what I promised, and then falling to play with finger-knackers, and doing a many more fooleries, she put me off from thinking on matters of more consequence. My Galliot sailed into the straight, and yet I could not learne into whose hands I was falne; but entring the maine Ocean, I descried two ships which made up to ours. At a signe was given our Mariners by a cannon shot, they gave over rowing, and when the greatest was clos'd with us, they cast out a ladder to have me come aboard: I was received by Abdelmelec himselfe, who in his owne name and his fathers, made me such a welcome, and used me with such entertainment, that Cydaria is very unthankfull if she doe not one day acknowledge it. Cydaria, unwilling her bro­thers jeasting should goe unanswered, You should (said she) have told Bajazet of it, for [Page 183] (may be) he would then have done so much for my sake and your good friend Abdelme­lec, that he should not have laine in so ill case as he now is; but be not you so incivill as not to render that Prince the ceremonies he did you. Iphidamantus going on againe: If (said he) I was well entertain'd by the sonne, I was not lesse but better by the father: Assooneas I landed, he came to welcome me with a preparation which might be compa­red to a little triumph. The name of Ennoramita resounded every where, the flutes, the cymbals, and all other instruments of musicke used by the Africans, invited every bo­dy to dances and other rejoycings. At first, I was (according to the custome of the coun­trey) brought into those stately bathes which I have described to you, and put into the hands of some of those women which had before served me. From the bathes, I went into that famous closet, which was as a Temple consecrated to the Portraict of Cydaria. To the Portraict of Cydaria? said Almanzor, red either with jealousie or choler. How! by what meanes came Hely by it? By a way which I will tell you at more leasure replied Cydaria: He shall restore it (said Bajazet) or it shall cost him his life and the ruine of Morocco. All the company not disallowing this amorous agitation, Iphidamantus proceeded thus; Being then in that chamber all inlightned with gold and jewels, Hely, who had put on the habit of a young man, and painted himselfe to regaine what age had rob'd him of, came to see me, and us'd the same language he had done, the first time he mistooke me for Cydaria. In finishing his speech, he turned towards the Princesses picture, and pointing to it, See (said he) what hath preserved my life during your ab­sence; when my griefe hath spent my spirits, and orecome my resolution, I had recourse to this faire picture, to refresh both the one and the other: I there found wherewithall to resist my longings, to keep my desires in vigour, and even wherewith to passe over your contempt and aversion. Heaven which knowes the innocency of my affection, after its triall by so many crosses, hath at last resolv'd to recompence it; give your consent to so just a decree, and disarming those eyes of their usuall disdaine, which never appeared milde to me but for my ruine, requite at least by some favourable aspect the long torments your beauty hath made me undergoe. The goodnesse of that Prince (which indeed de­serv'd an acknowledgement) made me resolve to disdeceive him; I therefore besought him to give more credit to my words, then he had before-time, and to suspend a while that passion which had twice almost cost him his life, that he might so the better consult with reason, and no more contradict a knowne truth. He smil'd, and shooke his head when he heard me say so: I am very sorry (said I) that my misfortune in bringing me hither, makes you call to minde againe, a person, that doth but perpetuate your afflictions; could I have found any other way that might have freed me from mine enemies, how irksome soever, I would have attempted it rather then have had recourse to your assistance: Not, but that I am glad to be obliged to so great a Prince as your selfe, but owing you so much already, my conscience upbraides me every moment, that my resolution to cast my selfe againe into your hands, was the most ingratefull part could be acted. The reason is very forcible, I knew (it told me) your errour, and to bring into his sight againe, that fatall face which disturbs the peace of your age, was wittingly to continue you in it: but since it hath not been in my power to divert this inconvenience, I will stop the progresse of the mischiefe it workes, and freely tell you, I am the brother of that Ennoramita who is onely faire for your affliction. Ah (replied Hely) if you love me, I beseech you dis­semble no more, for it will not worke the successe you hope by it. 'Tis not much lesse then a yeare, since you thought by such a device to cure me of my passion. But dear En­noramita what got you by that cunning? Nothing but the augmenting my torments and almost the ending my dayes. If in lieu of humbly intreating you as I doe to be somewhat favourable unto me, it were permitted to make you some few upbraidings; in your con­science should I have not have just cause to blame you for your flight? and being your owne judge, may I not accuse you, for putting your life and honour in hazard, rather then to indure the company of a Prince who hath had no other designe then to bestow both himselfe and his Crowne on you? Reflect (if you please) on all the misfortunes which seconded your flight; thinke on the dangers you have run, the slavery whereinto you have falne, and if your life be not considerable, thinke at least into what hazard you have engaged your honour: after that, (what mislike soever you have towards me) you [Page 184] will be inforced to confesse that it had been farre more easie to beare with the afflictions of poore Hely. I see well (said I) there needs somewhat else then words to free you from those errours you have no minde to leave, exact from me therefore all that you can imagine most prevalent to give you an absolute manifestation of so important a truth; and at last plucke off the cause of your voluntary blindnesse. Hely lov'd so modestly and so respectfully, that fearing to offend me, he with-drew, and in going out of my chamber, told me, he rather desired to be miserable all his life, then once to contradict me: two or three dayes he left me in quiet, and though all his happinesse consisted in my fight, yet had he rather lose that contentment, then to run the fortune of displeasing me. At three dayes end, (whether he would or no) he returned to his former solicitations, but assoon as I spake of freeing him from his error, he flung away, and saw me not, or if he did, 'twas by some secret chinkes or holes which he had made in the walls of my chamber. In that manner did I live neere three moneths, and indeavoured to winne some one of the slaves which waited on me, to get me the apparell of a man, and some armes, and by his means free me from the hands of the senslesse old King. The Negro woman that came along with me, seemed to be fit for that purpose, but Hely had too much pleas'd her, for fearing the like turne she had plaid the Basha Aladin: I had no sooner then spoke to her of my escape, but she rudely chid me for it; and assuredly by her advertising the King of Moroc­co, I was more strictly garded then before A few dayes after this milde detention, I under­stood, that all the Court was in an uprore, and that a great many sail of ships were disco­vered at the mouth of the River of Tensif: This allarme increasing by the arrivall of some Embassadours, Hely came to me one evening, and delivering me a paper; Read this (said he) and afterward (if you can) perswade me that you are not Ennoramita. I tooke the long Scroll, and if my memory deceive me not, there was written in it, thus:

BAJAZET Generall of the Pirates, to HELY King of Morocco.

HAd I not farre more regard to what I owe my selfe, then I have in considering those violences wherewithall the unrulinesse of thy passions dishonours the later yeares of thy life, I would not solicite thee (as I doe) by Embassadours; but instantly imploy the justice of my armes to compell thee, by a severe chastisement to a repentance of thy crimes. Thou shouldst blush Hely, to have in thine old age those raging agitati­ons, which are not allowed to young men, but that nature permits them not to be wiser; not that I declare my selfe against love, or by an indiscretion too common, blame that in another, which I thinke honourable in my selfe: I disallow such vices, which to be ap­proved of, insolently put on the face of vertue: I utterly condemne all impurity, and I abhorre all disordinate affections and violences. In a word, I detest that madnesse by whose intemperance thou treatest like a slave a Princesse, that can raise in armes all Eu­rope and Africa, for the subversion of thy tyranny. For mine owne part, who am the meanest of those which have dedicated their armes and lives to her service, I here protest to avenge her oppressed innocencie, if my Embassadours have not perswasion sufficient to prevent thine owne destruction, and give liberty to so many Princes as are fetter'd in the same irons wherein the faire Ennoramita is enthralled.

After I had read this Declaration of Bajazet, I cast mine eyes on Hely, and thinking to give him such counsell as he would not neglect; It shall not cost much (said I) the preven­ting those disasters which threaten you, send me to Bajazet, it may be his affection will make him as cleere sighted as your selfe, and winne him to beleeve he hath found what he sought, when I am once in his hands. Rather cri'd Hely, let our great Mahomet perish from the memorie of the living, let me rather see mine Empire desolate, and the misera­ble Hely crushed under the ruines of his Palace! With that he left me, and his naturall quicknesse rekindling I know not what remainder of fire in his frozen veines, he call'd for his armes, and denying to heare Bajazet's Embassadours any further, gave command [Page 185] they should presently depart from Morocco. Those Rovers accustomed to cast forth their andacious threatnings, storm'd & thundred even within Morocco against her own King; and one of them throwing downe his Cymetar in the market place, I vow (said he to those that were about him) never to weare any againe, till I see my selfe and my Companions Masters of this City. This threate affrighted part of the Spectators, and gave the bold Pirate a brave passage through the astonish'd people. Assoone as Bajazet understood how his Embassadors had beene treated, he call'd his Councell, and desirous more and more to engage the Pirates in his designes, 'Tis no more (said hee) my sole interest that obliegeth you to besiege Morocco. 'Tis the honour of your former actions that calls you to its protection. The insolence of this barbarous King hath of a private quarrell made a publique injury. You are all wronged in the persons of your companions. Your honour, of which they were deposi­taries in the qualities of your Embassadors, complaines of it by me, askes you Justice for Helie's impudency, and accounts you unworthy to live if instantly you run not to be avenged. The Pirates animated by so powerfull a speech, all at once swore the ruine of Morocco, and without delay came in a wonderfull order to land on both sides the towne. The Cavalry which was fallied would have opposed their landing, but the Ro­vers artillery thundring among the Squadrons, soone left the shoare free. If Bajazet could indure to heare his owne praises, I would tell you how valour and Judgement wholly possessing him, triumph'd both on the power and wiles of Hely. The very first day the City was block'd up, and in lesse then fifteene more, (contrary to the generall opinion) it was so inclos'd, that even the Arabians, which make their way any where, were not cunning enough to get in. I will not relate to you the many brave combats were had during the two first months siege. I will onely speake of what concernes my selfe. The City was hard laid to, and the most part of the Inhabitants wanting what was necessary to maintaine life, murmur'd against Hely's folly, and spoake aloud, that 'twas fit to drive from the towne that secret plague which would quickly wholly ruine them. For my part I besought Hely to bethinke himselfe, to stop the torrent of the publique calamities, and not to hazard his people, his Crown, and his life for an extra­vagancy. To these remonstrances, he was as deafe as he had beene to others, and said, that if he had not taken armes for my defence, yet would he have done it, to correct a company of theeves, who for sport sake were come to offend him. When I saw I could do no good on the old man, I sent for Abdelmelec, and told him, I held my selfe guilty of his Countries ruine, and the losse of his father, if I conceal'd any longer from him a thing that might put an end to the warre. Know therefore (said I) that I am not Ennoramita or rather Cydaria. I am Iphidamantus her brother; and Nature hath made us so like, that in many places where fortune hath led us, we have beene taken one for another. What I say is so easie to be proved, that you may instantly cleere the doubt. Give me such a habit as I ought to weare, bring me armour and before night I will shew you my actions shall not be those of a maiden. When you shall be so farre assur'd, I will go to Bajazet, and obliege him by my armes, or intreaty to acknowledge his error, and not to doe an injustice out of a desire to resent an injury. Abdelmelec shew'd a great deale of judgement and courage in his answer. I beleeve (said he) that you are Iphidamantus rather then Ennoramita, and aske no other proofes of it then those you gave at Tunis. If the King my father thinke it fit, I am of opinion you should be set at liberty, but shall never consent to your going to the Generall of the Pirates for an end of the siege. We have beene too much wrong'd, to hearken to an accommoda­tion. We have beene beaten, and are so daily; 'tis fit we should have our turne too on our enemies, and repell by force the insolence of these theeves. I speake not this to hinder you from prosecuting your inclination. If the Generall of the Pirates be your friend, I advise you to do that which friendship expects from you. I will engage my self to give you clothes, armes, and horses, and to conduct you safely into his Campe. But assoone as you shall be there, I will hold you as one of my enemies; and in such occasi­ons as the warre shall offer us, I thinke we have no consideration of one another. Ab­delmelec (said I) your generousnesse makes me go from my proposition. I will speake [Page 186] to you no more of peace or Bajazet; but expect for whom the chance of war will declare it self. For mine owne part, I sweare to you to thinke on no mans interest but yours, to vanquish or die with you; and betide what may, not to forsake you, till the death of one of us dispence with my promise. Assoone as I had made this Declaration, Abdelmelec imbraced me, and witnessing his resentment of my profers, I now (said he) beleeve indeed that you are a man, for your resolution cannot come but from a masculine heart. But keepe this businesse secret, that my fathers humourousnesse crosse it not: The next day Abdelmelec sent me clothes and armes, and both of us making use of the occasions offered by Hely's sudden sicknesse, wee made di­vers sallies, in all which I went by the name of the unknowne Knight. I should be very vaine-glorious if I told you my presence rais'd againe the affaires of Mo­rocco; but since you command mee to relate my adventures, I will not conceale my fighting so happily in divers conflicts, that Bajazet was constrained to recall the troupes hee had lodg'd on the side of Fez, and towards mount Atlas, as well to hinder any succour from the Moores, as to oppose the incursions of the Arabi­ans. Wee seldome sallied but wee brought in prisoners or much incommodated Ba­jazet's Campe. When a companie is reduced to the like extremitie as those of Mo­rocco were, there needs no such wonders to be done for the getting a reputation a­mong them. By this meanes, the unknowne Knight made himselfe so famous in so short a time, that his name came to the eares of the ficke King. He would needs see mee, and Abdelmelec must bring me to him, even with the hazard of being no more unknowne. But sicknesse had so altered the good old Kings senses, that he neither knew me by word or countenance. Many times hee imbraced me, and cal­ling mee the tutelar Angell of Morocco, sent at need by his great Prophet, intrea­ted the taking into my protection the safety of his people; and to expect from Abdelmelec those acknowledgements which death might perchance hinder him from rendring mee. I gave him many thankes for his profers and well-wishes, and told him, I hop'd his age would not alwayes be crossed, but that Heaven reser­ved for him a peacefull and contented issue out of all his troubles: in the meane time I advised Abdelmelec to send to Fez for succour. But Granada's desolation, and the mortalitie or exile of that Kingdomes Subjects (before-time so flourishing) had so abated all the Moores courages, that they were farre more miserable in A­frica then they had beene in Spaine. Their misfortune was still in their sight; they thought continually Ferdinand and Isabell were imbarking for Africa, and that great name of Cardinall of Spaine was a perpetuall cause of astonishment and feare. They still privately sent us victualls, and in such plenty, that from thence­forward the Citizens of Morocco beleeved Bajazet would be inforced to raise his Siege. Some little time after, one of our Spies, (ill informed, as most common­ly are such kinde of people) gave notice, that Bajazet was re-inforced by a migh­ty succour, under the command of one of the prime Basha's belonging to the Grand-Signior. Thereupon Abdelmelec and my selfe resolved to make a power­full sally, to discover their new aide, and know whether it were compos'd of Turkes or Africans. There was not in all the Siege so brave a conflict as at that time; we were in fight from morning till night; Abdelmelec incountred Baja­zet, and I (not knowing him) buckled with my benefactor Achomat. Night onely severed us, after the losse of more then two thousand men on both sides. At last, wearied with the Siege, and perceiving the succours from Fez failing us; we must render our selves to their mercy, I got Abdelmelec to a resolution of determi­ning all by a Duell. Wee therefore sent our Defye to Bajazet and Achomat, which they accepted; and each party being agreed on the conditions, we waited with equall impatience for the day on which this great difference was to be decided. Two dayes since I sent an intelligent Spy into Bajazet's Campe, and commanded him not to returne till hee knew certainly who the Basha was with whom I was to change blowes: last night he came backe, and related, that being stolne into Achomats Tents, he had learnt who he was, and for what cause he was come to the Siege [Page 187] of Morocco: This newes so surpris'd me, that when Abdelmelec this morning came into my chamber, to conduct mee to the place appointed for our Combate, he found me still in my bed. He began to chide me for my sloath, and imbracing me with a great deale of love; Deare Iphidamantus (said hee) I have long time wished for this day: 'Twill tell mee what shall be my fortune, and one way or other, I promise to my selfe before night, I shall have no more to long for. Whilst hee talked thus, I got ready, and arm'd me; not for my defence, but to oblige Achomat to take his revenge of mee, and to hide my designe from the Prince of Morocco. You know (without doubt) this daye's successe, and how farre happier it hath beene to mee then Abdelmelec; I will therefore trouble you no further. Thus Iphidamantus ended the relation of his strange and sad Ad­ventures.

Rozelana daughter to the greatest of the Ottoman Emperours, to her deare Lord Achomat.

BY my former Letters I intimated the cause, by this I advertise you of my death. Our perfect love seemes to tell me I am too cruell to send such tydings as will heap [Page 200] so much affliction on you; but withall, I confesse it would not have me part hence without assuring you, that death it selfe cannot rase you out of my thoughts: I die then my dear Achomat, but I die contented, since I could not live any longer but in affliction, and by consequence you could expect nothing from me but teares and trouble. I do not intreate you to be insensible of my losse. On the contrary (my deare Achomat) I de­sire thou wouldst never be comforted for it; yet if it be true that you love me, I, even dying, intreate this favour, that you will live as long as the eternall Providence hath ap­pointed. I can no more, Death forceth on me, and were it not staid by that victori­ous hand which triumph'd over it in the grave, I should not have time enough nor strength to assure you that I die a Christian.

WHen he had read over the Letter, he sigh'd, but so weakly, that they thought not he had receiv'd so sad newes; he turn'd to his Eunuchs, and calling one of them by his name, Narcissus, said he, didst thou see her die? Yes, my Lord (reply'd the old Eunuch) and these unfortunate hands (with that he lifted them up) have for ever clos'd her eyes. He had no sooner said so, but he tore that little haire remaining on his head, and casting himselfe on the earth, began againe to lament and weep with his companion. Melicerta who had alwayes prophesied her afflictions, anticipated those contain'd in her mothers Letter, and forgetting all her high resolutions, O heaven! (cry'd she) must there need so many blowes from thee, to kill so miserable a wretch! With that Achomat reach'd her her mothers Leter, and then fell back on his pillow: she scarce tooke time to read it all, but cry'd out, O detestable creature that I am! O monster twice a parricide! blinded passion! unjust, or unpowerfull heaven! We are all three alike guilty: the one hath per­mitted the mischiefe, the other advis'd it, and the last could not defend her self from it. Her respect to Achomat and the other Princes, staid the current of her laments for that misfortune, but it could not stop that of her despaire. The presence, the teares, and entreaties of Iphidamantus, could obtaine from her no other then a faigned compla­sency. For Achomat, he was silent, and though his love to his daughter made her ever extreamly deare to him, yet he never troubled himselfe with forbidding her lamenta­tions, nor intreating her to live. In this manner was the night spent, at day-breake, Za­baim, Polexander and Bajazet, call'd on by their troopes, with much griefe left the fa­ther and the daughter, and would have obliged Iphidamantus to stay with them; but in the very instant Almanzaira and Cydaria came into the tent. On the newes they heard of Melicerta sudden going away, they imagin'd Achomat was dead; and not to abandon that Princesse in her extreame affliction, were come to the Camp. Iphida­mantus leaving his Mistresse againe in the hands of Almanzaira and Cydaria, humbly be sought her permission to follow his brother and friends; Goe deare Iphidamantus (said she) goe, since thou wilt, and my ill fate suffers me not to forbid thee: with those words she grew speechlesse, and her scattered eyes gave apparent singes of her soules dis­order. Iphidamantus stai'd till she was recollected, and when he thought she had no more need of his being there, he went to the place where they were to fight; there he found Polexander, Zabaim, and Bajazet, examining one of their Spies, a crafty fellow, if there were ever any; he inform'd them, how he had been all the night in the palace of Morocco, and that both the Kings resolv'd to flye, when a great noise was heard on that part next to Mount Atlas, and presently there came in a Knight, who advertis'd them of the arrivall of twenty thousand Arabians; I saw them enter (said the Spy) and though the number be great, their equipage and order are both so ill, that I make almost no esteeme of that succour. The Princes without much relying on that man's opinion, or neglecting their accustomed providence, tooke care to put themselves in case good enough to receive their Enemies, and to repell them how valiant soever. To that end they chang'd the manner of their battle, and presently call'd their enemies to combate; the Moores on their side, reinforc'd by the Arabians, march'd into the field, and put themselves in battle-array: Polexander causing his vantgard to advance to a special piece of ground whence they could not be dislodg'd, & seeing some of them a little foil'd with so many combates, thought it was not amisse to speake to them; My companions (said he) doe not beleeve your toile or danger this day will be comparable to such as you [Page 201] have gone through; all that you have to doe, is to perfect that fight which night inter­rupted, and assure your selves of the victorie you had already wonne: those who are to meet withall, with a boldnesse that seems not to know you, are the same run-awayes whom but last night you forc'd all in disorder to flie into their towne, and to preserve their lives with the losse of their honour; I confesse they have some succours come to them, but I leave you to judge what they are, being compos'd of Arabians, that is, of so ill Souldiers, that all Princes who would well wage warre, cashiere them from their Armies; they are theeves, who never set on any but such as will run from them. On then my companions, fall on, where victorie (aloud) calls for you, she declares her self once more on your fide, and askes from your hands but a few Palmes which are want­ing to dresse her Crowne withall. After this Speech to his Souldiers, Polexander fell in among the Enemie; with the first incounter of his lance, he overthrew the Abinzer­rague; Iphidamantus slew him who onely surviv'd of the Morocco Kings race; and Ba­jazet ran through and through the Arabian Generall. These first incounters affrighting the Moores, they apparently stagger'd, and but for a Body of Granadians, which kept them from flying, the fight had been ended in the very beginning. Iphidamantus made himselfe a way amongst their Cavalrie, and not considering whether he were follow­ed or no, passed furiously through their fire, pikes and lances. Polexander on his side, having no more to act, turn'd otherwhere, and asking in every place for Iphidamantus, hasted to that part where he was said to be fighting; hee could not come to him by meanes of a battalion of Moores which stopped his passage, and coming on with much co fidence, engag'd him to fight; he shew'd them to such as followed him, and speak­ing without scarce any stay, My friends (said he) there are onely these men that dis­pute with you for the victorie; teach them they are no more invincible then those you have already defeated; your valour receives a diminution to suffer them to be so long in case to resist you; give way then to be govern'd by your just anger; they must, nay, 'tis fit they should be inveloped with the fortune of their companions, and not contest any longer with you for the honour of this day: But what said I? they must? they are already o'recome, since I see you are resolv'd to set on them. Though these words were perswasive, yet they were more true; for the pirates fell on as if they had been untoil'd and fresh, and without any other care then to die honourably, (with their incompara­ble Leader) passed through that masse of men, armes and horses. The valiant Abin­zerrague had promis'd his ambition to conquer some one of our Heroes, but it was farre easier to make such a vow then performe it; he came full gallop to meete Polex­ander, and calling to him afar off to defend himselfe, ran against him with a firme beliefe, that at least he should unhorse him: Polexander stai'd for him, and turning a­side with his sword the point of his lance, with the same weapon ran at his throat, but it did onely rase the skin; the Abinzerrague began to accuse Mahomet for his misfortune, and casting away his lance, came with his sword drawn at Polexander; never was com­bate more furious, nor accompanied with more spectators, for as if it had been a thing agreed on by both Armies, all those that were fighting, forgot one another in the heate of the battle, and standing still with their swords drawne expected the successe of the Duell, which was such as my Reader imagines: the Abinzerrague at last sinking under the stroakes of invincible Polexander, receiv'd two deadly blowes, and fell almost pre­sently under his horses feet. The Granadians seeing their Generall dead, look'd like those inchanted bodies which have no other motion then what they take from the De­mon which animates them; they presently threw away their armes, either to flie the more lightly, or to be the sooner slaine, and by their cryes and disorder, were the first that proclaim'd the Princes had wonne the battle. Bajazet, who had cut in pieces al­most all the Arabians, and followed them above a league, returned from the chase with a gallant troupe, when he met those whom Polexander hardly pursued: He put all to the sword to free himselfe from the trouble of a third day, and by that slaughter made an end of all was to be done. Those who have most exactly spoken of this warre, have written, that either during the siege or in the two battles; the pirates were almost whol­ly exterminated, and that Bajazet found not above two thousand remaining after the taking of Morocco. There were slaine above thirty thousand Moores, more then ten [Page 202] thousand Granadians, and twice as many Arabians. Assoone as the battle was wonne, there was so generall an affright in the Towne, that the two Kings fled thence by night, and staid no where till they were farre gotten into the hideous Sanctuaries of Mount Atlas. Polexander and Bajazet, who knew as well how to make good use of a victorie as to overcome, fell into the gates of Morocco before the inhabitants were re­collected from their former fright; they found them open and abandon'd, and entred the Towne with all the discretion experienced Captaines use to temper their earnest­nesse in so nice occasions. Those few pirates which remained alive, desirous to revenge the deaths of their companions, ran through the streets with fire and sword, and made such ravage and havocke, that to this day may be seene to what excesse their inhumane courages drove them; whilst they abus'd the priviledges attributed to their condition, Polexander and Bajazet rid out of the Towne, and not knowing where to finde Iphida­mantus, posted into the field where they had fought the battle; they found him not there, and thinking he was return'd to Achomat and Melicerta, rode towards their tents. In their way, they perceiv'd Zabaim who was extraordinarily sad, they demanded the cause, and he told them that in the last fight of the Granadians, he had thrust in among them to disingage Iphidamantus, but that his assistance could not save the Prince from falling under the number: at this lamentable newes, Polexander could not refraine from teares, and besought Zabaim to bring him where he had seene Iphidamantus fall; they went all together, and by the light of the City on fire, search'd the dead, and found that Prince (the fairest and most valorous of his time) drown'd in his bloud, in­viron'd with a great many Moores whom he had (infallibly) slaine. Polexander fell downe on him, and interrupting his complaints with his sighes, Ah! my brother (said he, lifting him up) see then the fatall accomplishment of such things as thy poore Meli­certa hath so often and so vainely foreseene; thou art dead deare Iphidamantus in the flower of thine age, and Heaven either for love or envie was onely pleas'd to shew thee to the world. Bajazet was not to be comforted, he tooke on against the stars and men, and accusing himselfe for Iphidamantus death, Wretch that I am, said he, 'tis I that have cover'd this faire body with all the wounds that disfigure it, and that conspir'd with the Moores to ruine that valour which I could not equalize. Zabaim, whose age and expe­rience made him lesse sensible then the other two Princes, intimated to them, that un­lesse they would forget their profession, they could not with justice lament Iphidaman­tus death, since the like disasters were inseparably annexed to the use of armes; besides, Iphidamantus dying so gloriously, and in seventeene yeares of age having raz'd out the memory of all that had been great and admirable in former times, he was rather to be perpetually extoll'd then any thing at all lamented. Polexander suppressed his griefe that he might not be seene to affect a vertue so troublesome and vulgar, but thinking on the deadly wound Melicerta was to receive, Poore Princesse (cri'd he) thou said'st right alwayes, that there was no true felicity for thee, and that those favours by which Fortune seem'd to reconcile her selfe to thee, were but treacheries and snares of which she would make use to make thee the more sensible of her inhumanitie; shall I conceale from thee the losse of thy deare Solyman? Nay, shall I make knowne his death, which will be thine? Polexander could not goe on with his complaints, Bajazets lamentations hindred him, and Zabaim's remonstrances obliged him to returne to the Camp. He therefore commanded Diceus to carry off Iphidamantus corps privately, and taking Bajazet forcibly away, came to Achomat's tent; all was there in confusion and teares; the newes of Iphidamantus death had beene brought thither, and no body knew the anthor. Melicerta at the first hearing of it, giving her selfe desperately over, flew as she had been distracted out of her fathers tent; If Almanzaira and Cydaria had not with-held her, she had run to search for Iphidamantus among those that lay scatte­red and slaine on the place of battle, as so many sacrifices offered up to victorie. Assoone as she saw Polexander, Give me my Solyman (cri'd she) restore the treasure you have stolne from me; and thou ambitious and adventurous Bajazet, wer'st thou not content with the robbing me of Achomat? must Iphidamantus death be added to his, as a se­cond trophy rais'd to the honour of thy bloudy and furious passion? Almanzaira strove to appease her, Cydaria wept, Almanzor tore his haire, Polexander sate setled and mute, [Page 203] Achomat all-dying as he was, bewail'd Iphidamantus death, and entreated Melicerta to moderate her sorrow, but she was deafe to all counsell and intreaties; sometimes she cast her selfe on her fathers bed, and then againe flinging through the company in Acho­mat's tent, besought them (at least) to give her leave to go search for her husbands body. Achomat call'd our Heroe, and entreated that last contentment to his daughter and himselfe; Polexander besought him to thinke on what he desir'd, and to conceive what a furie his daughter might fall into at the sight of a body made so dreadfull and disfigu­red with wound. There are (repli'd Achomat) some sicke persons to whom many things are deni'd, because many things may wrong them; but there are some other a­gaine who are to be deni'd nothing, because their diseases being incurable nothing can hurt them: my daughter and my selfe are of the latter sort, there is no more thought to be taken for our preservation; all that our friends can doe for us, is to let us die in quiet, and (since poyson is no more dangerous for us then physicke) give us the one assoone as the other. Polexander, wonne by those reasons, but more by Melicerta's frightfull actions, commanded Iphidamantus body to be brought, and laid it on a bed neere to A­chomat's. The Basha would needs see it, and making a worthy reflexion on that great example, of the frailtie of Princes lives; Greatnesse of the world, (said he) sensuall de­lights, momentarie beauties, come and see what you are in a portraict so truly represent­ing you! And thou faire soule too soone dislodg'd from so faire a prison, flie not hence alone to the place of thy eternall rest! Achomat and Melicerta would follow thee, and participate of those promis'd incomprehensible joyes. No body heard Achomat, for Melicerta made such a noise, that nothing was to be heard but her lamentations. At last (to contemplate Iphidamantus) she grew silent, and grasping him in her armes, had certainly then dy'd on him, had she not been taken off: Achomat call'd her, and present­ly her reason surmounting her griefe and furie, she knew her fathers voice, and ran to his bed. Achomat, who decay'd, and grew palpably weake, and scarce able to speake, stretch'd his hand towards her, and presently letting it fall, Daughter (said he) give thanks with me to that Goodnesse which is at last wearied with our sufferings; if thou desirest I should die in some peace, moderate thy lamentation, and thinke thou hast lost not [...]g, but what thou wert sure and bound to be depriv'd of, sooner or later. With that he [...]f­ted his hands to heaven, and addressing himselfe to that Power which could onely heare him, he gave up the ghost. When Melicerta, growing more furious then before, tore her face, pluck'd off her haire, and attempted often to seise on some sword to fall on; Almanzaira and Cydaria expressed, that if she continued as she was, that she was to ex­pect no other then the losse of her soule with her life; that consideration resetled her, and after a while musing, she cast her selfe on Achomat, and presently starting up again, But (said she) this is onely the halfe of my miseries, with that she ran to the other bed, and drawing the curtaines, stood like a statue, at the pitifull sight of so late an admired and faire a countenance, and now shaded with the obscuritie and horrour of death; she kissed him, and afterwards looking on him without any apparent disturbance, O short (said she) and unfortunate love of humane creatures, glorious and pitifull remaines of the fairest of men! Iphidamantus, deare Iphidamantus, is it thus that we were to be link'd with bonds more strong then time or fortune? Must I needs leave the tombe wherein I had buried my selfe alive, to be the spectatresse of thy precipitated death, and see thee againe after so long a separation, onely that I might lose thee more then once? Yes, it must be, for heaven had so resolv'd it, let's therefore fully perfect our destinie: Those were the last words she spoke, afterwards she did nothing but sigh, and utter some inarticulate speech; and then leaving her lover to returne to her father, she imbrac'd him neere a quarter of an houre, without giving eare to Zabaim's intreaties, Almanzai­ra's exhortations, Cydaria's laments, nor the supplications of Polexander and Bajazet. When she perceiv'd she could no more, she went from her father to Iphidamantus, and laying her selfe downe by him, tooke his hand, kissed it, and so gave up the ghost. These three so considerable dead bodies, and so neere to one another, made Polexander and Bajazet almost forget what they owed to themselves; at last their servants drew them from that mournfull place, and even forc'd them to retire to their vessells. Bajazet suspended his passion to accord with that of his Mistresse, and for two or three dayes did [Page 204] nothing but sigh and nourne with her; the fourth he tooke the hardinesse to speak, and told her that so faire and excellent a soule as hers, should be above all the malice of for­tune: But Cydaria was of too noble a nature to be o'recome by so barbarous a philosophie; she had lost the halfe of her selfe in losing Iphidamantus, and 'twas fit she should have more then ordinary resentments; well might she yet strive to arme her selfe against reason, but time and love, which are as powerfull as death, made her yeeld, and quit her complaints and sorrow for the respect she bore to Polexander, Zabaim, Al­manzaira, and Bajazet's continuall sollicitations. Eight or ten dayes passed o're, during which time the Citie of Morocco was almost utterly ruined; that famous palace which Historians have describ'd to us as a master-piece of the African Kings magnifi­cence, was subverted; the Temples scap'd not the furie of sacrilegious hands, and those three golden apples which shine on the point of the principall Mosquy, were hardly pre­serv'd by the vertue of such enchantments as are their eternall defence and guardians. Bajazet would have nought for his part of the booty but Cydaria's picture, which was found in a private Mosquy of Hely's lodgings. Presently after, he sent command to the pirates, and the King his father's souldiers, to come from the Towne, and repaire to their colours; they obeyed without compulsion, being so rich, and tir'd with ill doing, that they wished for nothing more, then to put their pillage in some place of safetie. Polexander (for his part) pressed as much as he could their depart, which in his opinion might produce some great change of his fortune; Zabaim and Almanzaira desired it as much as he; Bajazet presently agreed, and so with as faire a gale as could be wish'd, they weigh'd anchors, and landed happily in the Island of Fez: there Zabaim visited the tomb of his second sonne, and Polexander restor'd to its ancient sepulchre, the body of un­fortunate Melicerta. Her Father was laid on her right hand, and her Lover on her left, with Trophies of Warre and Love; and Inscriptions, which had lasted to this day, if the pride of Spaine had not subverted all the Monuments which might have preserv'd to after times, the memorie of our Heroe's conquests. From thence they passed to the new Isle of Alcidiana, and among the triumphs and rejoycings answerable to the time, th [...]e [...]arriage of Bajazet and Cydaria was concluded; a few dayes after that glorious Ceremonie, Zabaim and Almanzaira tooke thence their sonne and daughter to enter in possession of their estates, and solemnize among their owne subjects, the feasts of so illustrious and long-wish'd for an alliance. Whilst Senega, Guinea, Melly, and many other great Provinces wash'd by the Niger, drain'd their riches and inventions, to raise every where eternall remembrances for Bajazet's returne and marriage. Polexander by degrees and insensibly relaps'd into his former melancholy, and held all those for Im­postors who assured him he should one day reinjoy the felicities he had lost; A Canarian (one that had been a great observer of the stars) came to him a little before he set to sea, and knowing his designe, Sir (said he) those which have not my knowledge in future things, having taken notice of those misfortunes you are like to fall into, advise you to give over your voyage; but I, who even now foresee the event, intreat you to hasten on, and not lose the benefit of certaine constellations, which seeme to shine onely to con­test with the malignity of such others as threaten you; set saile therefore, and hold it for infallible, that your happinesse shall not be farre off, when you see your selfe reduced to the most unfortunate estate, ever any great Prince like your selfe ever met with: Pole­xander neglected this counsell, as others, and yet for feare of disobliging the Author, he [...]ain'd to be well pleased with it, and to assure him he was so, gave him a worthy Pre­sent. The Prognosticator being gone, Polexander set saile with Alcippus and Diceus, the deare and inseparable companions of all his fortunes; hee commanded his to steere right North, and without varying either West or Easterly, to hold on his course on the same point. All that ever experience and the art of Navigation have taught the most judicious Pilots, that man observ'd in the guiding his ship, and a winde from Africa seeming to be risen, expresly to favour their enterprise, made Polexander beleeve he should not alwayes be unfortunate. The hundred leagues which they held to be from the Canaries to Alcidiana's Island, were reckoned by so exact a computation, that the Pilot's Mates assured Polexander, they had not miscounted a mile; for all that no Isle could be discovered, and the ship still made on with all her sailes. Polexander not [Page 205] knowing whom to accuse but his destinie, imprecated against himselfe, and if that prin­ciple of pietie which never parted from his soule, had not stopp'd the agitations of his anger, he had without doubt added one to the examples of those, who to be delivered ou [...] of the hands of fortune, have daringly laid violent hands on themselves: being then ingag'd to suffer till Providence had otherwise appointed, he caused part of his sailes to be taken in, and will'd his Pilot to alter his course, and somtimes steering East, and other­times sailing West, not to forget any thing on what his art depended. The Pilot be­leeving his reputation as well as fortune to be annexed to this discoverie, followed it both w [...]h the eyes of a Lynceus, and the judgement of another Typhis. Two dayes and two nights he attempted severall courses, and rectifying himselfe by the help of his Compasse as often as the winde put him off from his first Rhombe; he had the boldnesse to tell Polexander, that in spight of the power of what Demons soever, he would finde that inchanted Island. These promises were too audacious to be licenced, and indeed were punished by a contemning which was like to cost their Authors life. At the fifth dayes break, those that were in the top of the maine Mast began [...] cry, Land, and by that word filled all the ship with a noise that witnessed their universall joy. Polexan­der, who durst not beleeve what he so much desired, went up into a place from whence he might discover all that was round about: That land he saw, and his heart beating (so much did that object master his senses) I know (said he) well enough what punish­ment Alcidiana's just anger hath provided for me; but how worthy is my mishap to be envied, since the lightning that threatens me, is to come from the faire eyes of that Princesse! Whilst he spake thus, his vessell flew on the waves, and seem'd to take part in her masters rapture. Assoone as they were in the roade, they knew the discovered land to be an Isle: Polexander unwilling to trust to any body in a thing so important to him, commanded the shallop to be lanch'd, and taking none with him but Alcippus and Diceus, caused himselfe to be landed with all haste. He came on shoare in a very hidden and private place, and therefore went further up into the Isle to descry it; hee had not gone above five or six hundred paces along the coast, but he perceived the points of many turrets: with that hee went some hundred paces further without saying any thing; but when he was gotten to the top of a rocke from whence he plainly discerned the pavillions whose tops he had onely seen before; 'Tis the fatall Palace (said he) which I forsooke to pursue Amintha's ravishers. He spoke it imperfectly, his excesse of joy transporting him, he grew pale, he trembled, and underwent all the agitations that an extreame Love ever yet troubled the strongest minde with: sometime hee thanked Fortune, then he blessed Love, and ever among mingling Alcidiana; I have no sense (said he) but wrongs the extremitie of happinesse I enjoy. I confesse (O ye Divinities equally powerfull) that to you I am infinitely oblieged; but to shew such vulgar ac­knowledgements for so extraordinary benefits, is to be ingratefull. If there be any one which may be accepted, 'tis the confession I make, that it is not lesse impossible for me to expresse, then to acknowledge sufficiently your incomparable gratifications: with that he turned to Alcippus and Diceus, and knowing not what was best to be done; Advise me my friends (said he) for in the case I am, 'tis a hard matter for me to counsell my selfe. Alcippus replied, he was not so well in Alcidiana's favour, as to pre­sent himselfe to her without the advise of some one of his ancient friends, by whom he might understand how the Queen was affected towards him: 'Tis true (said our Heroe) I should be more guilty then Alcidiana imagineth, if I made no scruple of coming be­fore [...]er, incens'd as she is, or bore so meane a respect to a personage worthy so much a­doration, as with an impudent boldnesse, inforce her to violate her owne lawes, and justifie that rash man whom she hath condemned to a shamefull death. Let's returne to our ship, and there we will deliberate at leasure in what manner 'tis fit I should pre­pare my self for the punishment my disobedience hath deserved. Presently he turned himselfe to sea-ward, but he had not gone twenty paces e're his mind altered, and so re­solved to attempt on fortune, and to try what should become of him: Alcippus laid be­fore him all that he thought most perswasive to divert him from so dangerous a resolu­tion; but all was in vaine, and so was of force to follow him. After they had left the sea coast and traversed a plaine, watered with many sweet rivers, beautified with faire [Page 206] houses, and encompassed with a wood of very high trees, into part of which they entred, because their way ingaged them; they had not gone farre in when they stopped, at the sound of a flute and bagpipe: Polexander imagining whence the musicke came, went out of the largr way, and striking into a path fast by among the trees, came to a crosse way, invironed with five or six little cottages; there they saw two shepheards seated at the foot of a tree, playing on the instruments our Heroe had heard, and ten or twelve young children dancing before them, who made him see by their rurall habits, but faire ones, that their fathers were not reduced to the necessity of the European Shepheards. Polexander ravished with this adventure, would have addressed himselfe to the Pipers, but the poore men affrighted in seeing him, fled with the children; our Heroe followed to the cottage whereto they retired, and had made such an out-cry, that five or six other shepheards well clad, and armed with staves like our halfe pikes, from severall places came resolutely towards him: Hee spoke much to them, but imagining they under­stood him not, he tooke a little diamond (which by chance he had on his finger) and offering it to them [...] a demeanor full of courtesie, staid their furie. They took the ring, and after they had well gazed on it, imbraced Polexander one after another, and shewing him many civill respects, invited him into their cottage: thither he went, where he beheld two women, whose naturalnesse that had nothing of what was silly, and beautie without art, might have made them taken for some of those famous shep­heardesses of the ancient Arcadia; there wanted nothing to his satisfaction, but to make himselfe understood, but that being not then possible, he thought best to talke to them by signes. In lesse then two houres he made them conceive what he desired, and inti­mating he would willingly change his habit for some of theirs, they went and fetched him one made of fine linnen and shining as silke. The women likewise brought him hats, and buskins, so neatly made, that Polexander imagined he should be too finely dressed in those clothes: notwithstanding he tooke that which was fittest for him, and gave the other to Diceus. Never was he better pleased then when he had hung a scrip (made of a Hynde spotted Fawnes skin) in the place of his sword; and taken in his hand a sheep-booke, whose knots and carvings would yeeld matter for a long descripti­on to a man that had more leasure then I have. He looked on himselfe as on another Paris, going to be Judge of all that was fairest in Heaven or Earth; presently he sent back Alcippus with a command to attend him eight dayes in the roade, and keep his en­terprise secret: Alcippus obeyed without reply, and Polexander leaving his rich apparell' with the shepheards who had given him of theirs, made them understand by his signes that he would goe to their Princesse castle. Whether the shepheards conceived what our Heroe meant, or apprehended him not, once they staid him, and by their woefull countenances and joyned hands, seemed to have him know there was an extreame dan­ger in approaching that castle: hee gave not the interpretation he should to the shep­heards signes, but knew it afterwards when it was too late. Having then sent away Al­cippus and taken leave of his hostes, he took the way to the castle, and growing merrie with Diceus about their pleasant incounter, had not walked an houre but he came with­in a musket shot of that fatall castle: he descending a little hill, and crossing a meadow bordered on both hands with willowes and poplars, he came before a great plaine invi­roned with very high railes, and beyond them with a file of blacke men chain'd to one another, and all arm'd with bowes and arrowes. As farre off as those Archers had de­scry'd Polexander and Diceus, they gave a shout, and presently sent them a flight of ar­rowes, from which they could not so well shelter themselves but some met with them; Polexander unwilling to be taken for any other then he seemed, fell on the ground, and expected when those fettered devils would be somewhat pacified. Not one of them left his station, but ten or twelve men lesse blacke then the guard, coming out of some tents that stood in one corner of the place, ran to our two adventurers; one among them taking our Heroe and his man for the shepheards of that Countrey, ask'd, why they had dar'd to violate what their Queen had forbidden: Polexander hearing Spanish spoken so far from Spain, answered in the same tongue, that they were two strangers, by a storme driven on that Island, and bearing it was commanded by a Queen, whose like the world afforded not, we much desired to doe her our obeysance, before wee betooke our selves [Page 207] selves to sea againe. The Castilian replying with their naturall haughtinesse, If (said he) thou be not so happy as to have had thy birth on this famous Earth which produceth none but invincible men, be assured thy curiositie will cost thee thy life. Polexander smil'd at the threats of this new Rodomant, and answered thus, It is a hard thing for me to tell you the place of my birth, but I can well assure you I have nought of the Spa­niard in me. Ah wretch! (cri'd the Castilian) what sinne hath brought thee to execu­tion? Yet speake, and without dissembling thy thoughts, tell me if thou hast never lov'd. I wonder (repli'd Polexander) how a Spaniard can aske me that question; answer to it your selfe, since 'tis the beliefe of all Spaine, that 'tis harder to live without loving, the [...] to live without breathing. The Castilian in lieu of continuing the discourse, turned to those that came with him, and commanded them to performe their charge; thereupon they straight fell on Polexander, who would not defend himselfe, and put on his legges and armes such chaines, as almost tooke from him the use of either. Diceus was trea­ted accordingly, and with his Master led to the palace: there they were shut up in a vaulted chamber, and had leasure enough to reflect on so diversified an accident. Po­lexander, after a long meditation breaking his silence; Was not I (said he) sufficiently accustomed to the malice of that ill Spirit which prosecutes me, to mistrust his promi­ses, and imagine he would use me with as little favour in this occasion as in others? as­suredly (quoth he, turning to Diceus) my desires have made me of a too easie beliefe. I am not in Alcidiana's Isle, and plainly see, that what I tooke for a haven is a treacherous roske, on which all my hopes are suffering their last shipwracke. Whilst he ended thus, the prison dore was opened, and many Souldiers, who by their lookes and words, wit­nessed their barbarisme, confusedly entred, and plucking Polexander with a brutish fury, commanded him to follow them. He obeyed, with the patience of a man truely cou­ragious, and after he had crossed many great courts, mounted by a winding staire, which was a master-piece in Architecture, into a hall, that might be said, the most that art could doe. It was of an extraordinary breadth and height, and had light by great overtures which were contrived betweene many rankes of Pillars: the vault was of great stones, naturally blue, and speckled with stars so glittering, that they seem'd of perfect gold. Polexander tooke no great heed to those rarities, but had his eyes fixed on a troupe of Ladies which stood round about an empty throne; assoone as he was seene there arose a little murmure amongst them, and a while after, a woman of some forty five yeares old ascended the throne: she was so loaden with diamonds and pearles, that 'twas well seen she would borrow from her dressings that Majestie which nature had deni'd her. In effect, she might have been taken rather for an Eunuch clad like a woman then a wo­man indeed; her haire was red, her colour swart, her height excessive, and her coun­tenance so ill, that had she not been lamentable meager as she was, yet had she been the very true image of horrour. When she was set, and her Ladies, with that blinde and servile obsequiousnesse, which thinkes of nothing but custome and interest, had wirnes­sed their feare and worship, she call'd for Polexander to come neerer, and ask'd him what he was, whence he came, and why he had taken on the habit of one of that Islands shepheards. To that, Polexander (answering with all the respect, which reason wills us to observe to all persons which carry the particular signes of the Divinitie:) Madam (said he) I am a Prince farre more unfortunate then I esteem'd my selfe two houres since; I seek after that which is impossible for me to finde; I [...]ded in your Isle with a firm be­liefe it was the same wherein I was to meet my greatest felicitie, and in hope of it, chan­ged my habit for those I now weare, the better to satisfie passion, and not wrong my duty. Infallibly (said that incomparable phantasme) turning to her Ladies, see here one of those mad men against whom those lawes are established which I cause so rigo­rously to be observ'd. Is it not true (said she to our Heroe) that thou art in love, and callest all such who are not so, monsters; whom nature hath produc'd in the same man­ner as she hath done nights, winters and diseases: confesse thy fault boldly, but I much feare, that cowardise which is inseparably with these esseminate youths, who lay all their glory in the conquest of I know not what young minion, will keep thee from ma­king it knowne: speake, speake poore witlesse man, and deserre not till torture draw the truth from thee. With that Polexander making appeare gloriously that imperio [...] [Page 208] and charming countenance, wherewithall he was wont to reigne over the freedome of men, and even give a feeling to insensibilitie it selfe: Your Majestie (said hee to the Queene) may give me leave (if you please) to leave off my observance, for the defence of an innocent whom calumnie hath made despicable; If you beleeve (Madam) that love is a monster, you beleeve withall that youth is the greatest defect of life, and the Sunne should be accounted a prodigy. The Queene suddenly turning her eyes into two comets as red as her haire, threatned Polexander with a terrible death, and without any more hearing him, commanded he should be delivered into the hands of the hangmen. Before Polexander would be inforc'd to be withdrawn from that Megera, Madam (said he) 'tis not the custome of those who govern discreetly to condemn any that is accused till the cause be known; Your Majestie beleeves me guilty in taking on me the defence of love, and I, on the contrary should thinke my self so, if I wayv'd it? Command some Knight of your Court to take armes, that by a just combate hee may either force my life, or make me dishonourably unsay what I have maintained in your Majesties pre­sence: such a command will be as equitable as glorious for him. The Spaniard of whom we have spoken, fell presently at the Queenes feet, and transcending all the va­nities which make his nation ridiculous; Great Queene (said he) be pleas'd to permit me to be the exterminator of a monster, as feeble as he whose defence hee undertakes: but if your Majestie will please to command hee be strictly guarded till the day of combate, for I reade already in his eyes, that the propositions he made, are but cunning pretexts to save himselfe by a shamefull flight. Polexander, at some other time would have laugh'd at that Gallant's extravagancy, but for divers reasons growing cholericke, he retain'd himselfe onely in his first temper, and told the Spaniard, that if it pleas'd the Queene, there was day enough to decide their difference. The Castilian who was very valiant, tooke Polexander at his word, and would not rise from before the Queen, till he had got leave to fight. At the request of the Ladies it was granted him, for they, having no other malice to love then from the tongue, were very glad to see him triumph over his greatest enemies. Hereupon Polexander was unbound, and delivered into the hands of the Spaniard. The Gallant very insolently made use of his authority, and carried to an excesse of pride which made him forget his owne alloy, he spoke of his combate as if our Heroe had been already reduc'd to beg his life of him: he often told the Prince, that 'twas not his humour to shew them any favour who were so rash as to interchange blowes with him; to which Polexander repli'd, he would intreate any courtesie from him, but that he was resolv'd to make triall of whatsoever the chance of armes had re­serv'd for him. When hee came to the Bragadochio's lodgings, hee intreated him the leave of sending to his ship for armour; No, no, repli'd the other in scorne, I have servants here that will furnish you with armes and horse: the Prince thanked him for his profer, and patiently indur'd all his insolencies. Whilst hee was in this decadence, a young man very well clad, came into his chamber, and after divers extraordinary ci­vilities done him in the name of a Lady of the Court, My Mistresse (said he) understan­ding that you had not here either horse or arms, hath taken care to provide you of both, and commanded me to intimate, that for Polexander's sake, she sends them to Love's defender: she beseecheth you to make use of them, and imagine, that going to main­taine the power of Love, you goe to fight for Alcidiana's beautie. Polexander was no lesse surpris'd then ravish'd at these words, and did his utmost to get from the young man his Mistresses name; but the Squire humbly besought him to be ex [...]s'd, since hee was expresly forbidden. Go then (said Polexander, putting a faire diamond on his finger) and assure thy Mistresse, I will strive to make my selfe worthy of her Present and coun­sell. The Spaniard grew mad at his enemies faire fortune, and insolently told the Squire, he would advertise the Queen of his Mistresses flippery: You owe her too much respect (repli'd the young man) to doe her that wrong, yet you may doe as you please, and with that tooke his leave of Polexander, not giving any the least reverence to the Spaniard. Our Heroe presently opened the armour was sent him, and found it very faire; the shield was of an extreame well polish'd steele, in the midst whereof was painted a Tor­rent, which being repuls'd and stopp'd by a Damme, foam'd with rage, and shocking on it impetously, seem'd to shake the very foundations: The word was, [I will overcome.] [Page 209] Then he went to see his horse, and finding him such as was promised, commanded Di­cens to put on his armour. In the meane time the Spaniard calling for the armes he in­tended to use, made shew of a great deale of impatiencie till he were all ready; and de­scending with Polexander into the court of the castle, went to his stables, where among a great many horse, he chose one that had no other fault, but his being as proud as his Master. Polexander, all arm'd as he was, would have no help to get on his; Diceus had the honour that day to be his Squire, and carried his Helmet and Lance into the field, and gave him both assoone as the Spaniard was ready for fight. The place could not be better, (for 'twas the same rail'd in with lists where Polexander was first seiz'd on) nor the season more favourable, since the aire was so extraordinary calme; but the compa­ny, though it were compos'd of a Queene, of many Princesses, and a great number of Ladies, was not yet such as our Heroe could have desired. Assoone as all that Court were at the windowes which looked into the lists, and the Queene had given the signal, the trumpets advertis'd the Combatants of their devoir; the Spaniard gave spurs to his horse, and made him start and fly on like lightning: Polexander putting on his eager­ly, and inveloping himselfe (as I may say) in a cloud of dust rais'd by his horses hoofs, met the Spaniard in the midst of the careere, and with the extreame shock he gave him, bore over horse and man, and made him roule two or three turnes on the ground. There was not a Lady (the Queene excepted) but began to cry out for joy; our Heroe the meane while attended till the Don was got up, who darting fire from his eyes, and blaspheming what was most venerable above, freed him from his horse, and came on with his sword drawne to avenge him on his enemie. Polexander, to take no advantage, alighted, and met him with an intent onely to disarme him; but the Spaniard made him know, he was truely courageous, and knew how to die with honour: for he would never either confesse himselfe vanquish'd, nor aske his life, though the blowes he receiv'd from that thundring arme, (to which no other is to be compared) made him feele sufficiently that he must either humble him selfe or die. Polexander often drew backe to give him time to thinke of his preservation, but perceiving he scorn'd it, thought himselfe not bound to value his life more then its master did; he therefore let drive so furious a blow on his head piece, that cleaving his skull, he laid him dead at his feet. The affrighted Queene seeing the defender of her extravagances so rigorously chastis'd, shot from her eyes as dreadfull flashes as those of comets, and commanded eight or ten Knights which were under the window, to avenge her on her enemy. They were not lesse barbarous then their Princesse, but came all cowardly rushing on Polexander, who so stoutly re­ceiv'd them, that with the three first blowes, hee laid two of them along and dead; a third he made safe enough for fighting, and cast such a terrour among the rest, that had he delighted in bloud, he might have shed what he had listed without any hazard. Hee therefore contented himselfe with the driving those wretches before him, and thrusting them to the utmost list of the field: the Queene at the sight plai'd the mad woman, and ask'd her Ladies who had brought that devill into her-dominion; shee that was next to her, making a low reverence, and humbly beseeching to be heard, If your Majestie (said she) considers nothing but for the present, you may beleeve this stranger came hi­ther for no other ends but such as might tend to your disadvantage: but if you cast your thoughts on what hath passed, and may betide, you will confesse that a particular prote­ction from heaven hath sent you this redoubted. Knight to avenge you of the cruell Astramadan's tyrannie, and to extinguish for ever that bloudy tribute hee exacts from your subjects, for the safety of your owne person. Tisiphone (so was the Queene call'd) meditated a while on what the Lady spoke, and confessing to her selfe that Po­lexander's preservation was very behovefull for her; shee staid those who were running to the defence of their companions, and with her loud and terrible voyce, commanding them to lay downe their weapons, sent word to Polexander to give over the prosecuting her servants, and come presently before her. Hee obeyed without disputing that Prin­cesses will, and presented himself all arm'd save his head; she found him more pleasing in his armour then in the habit of a shepheard, and pardoning him the death of the Spani­ard and her Knights; If (said she) you will obtain the liberty to love, you must avenge me on a Barbarian, who by his brutishnesse hath forc'd me to beleeve, that Love was a Mon­ [...]er, [Page 210] which perswaded us to nothing but cowardise and villanies. Tisiphone strove to sweeten her eyes as she spoke thus, and as if she had forgotten what she was, made the Ladies (which looked o [...]) beleeve that she would not die in the detestation of love. Po­lexander, that was otherwise too much amaz'd then to note the Queenes impertinen­cies, promised her all she desired, and humbly besought her to hasten as much as possi­bly she could the occasion in which shee would imploy him; and so tooke leave, and was (by her command) put in posssession of the unfortunate Castilians goods and lodg­ings; presently he dispatched Diceus to his ship, to bring him thence such necessaries as he wanted, to call for Alcippus, and to give order to his Pilot to disanchor from the rode where he lay, and to ride in that of the palace. In lesse then foure houres all this was done, and Polexander clothing himselfe according to his birth, and the present con­dition of his fortune, made appeare by a pleasing mixture, state and magnificence inter­mingled with sorrow. His earnestnesse to acquit him of the promise to Tisiphone, scarce giving him leave to breathe, he went to her presently after supper; she welcom'd him with as smiling a countenance as she could put on, and looking on him with an attenti­on which seem'd very strange to the Ladies, did a thousand braveries, and ingag'd her selfe so farre in a businesse she knew not, that she strai'd and was lost, without any hope of ever recovering her old way: she retir'd much later then she was wont, and had not her women advertis'd her of it, she had spent the whole night with Polexander. As­soone as she was in bed, she strove to sleep, but she perceiv'd that some (I know not what) strange thoughts, and certaine unknowne desires, spight of her heart kept her eyes waking. At first she began to grow angry with her selfe, and having a spirit as in­constant as malicious, shee alter'd her minde a hundred times in an houre; went from praises to reproaches, and in a word witnessed, whether in loving or hating too quick­ly, that she was neither capable of love or hatred. When shee perceiv'd her thoughts were resolv'd to keep her awake, I will (said she) traitors as you are (which deceive in soothing) hinder you well enough from the prolonging your malice: I am not so farre from the Port, but I can enter againe when I list. Retire then ye too importu­nate gusts, and hope not my voyage will be long unlesse the faire gale continue. Love, who intended to avenge himselfe on this extravagant woman, would not terrifie her with these beginnings: he gave her the calme she demanded, and rais'd not a tempest, till she had lost all kenning of the haven. She then slept, and the next more awaking with an extreame desire of re-seeing Polexander, she loaded her selfe with so many jew­els, that if our Heroe had been covetous, he would certainly have found her very ami­ble. But being not in humour to remarke ought of faire or foule in Tisiphone, he be­sought her againe to send a defiance to her enemie, or be pleas'd himselfe might carry it. Tisiphone forg'd excuses to retaine Polexander neere her, and whether he would or no, oblig'd him to stay seven or eight dayes for the returne of such Heralds as she had sent to challenge her enemie. During which time Polexander abode alone, as long as he could be permitted; and one evening being retir'd into his chamber, Diceus adver­tis'd him there was a Lady at the dore who desir'd audience; Let her enter if she please, (said Polexander) and straight way rising, went to receive her with his wonted courtesie. When shee was in place where she might speake unheard of his servants, she tooke a vaile off her face, and approaching the lights, Cast your eyes (said she) Polexander on a person which hath been sometime in your esteeme, to let her know you have not alto­gether forgotten her. Our Heroe instantly knowing the Lady both by speech and countenance; Doe not (said he) mine eyes deceive me, or doe not I flatter my selfe with a vaine beliefe, if I take you for Amintha? No, (repli'd the Lady) you are not de­ceiv'd, I am Amintha: but before I can relate by what chance I came into the service of this Princesse so differing from Alcidiana, I must acquit me of the commission she gave me, and tell you, that after I had been a long time your confident, I at last became hers. You laugh at so brave an employment, but when I have recounted my fortune, you will confesse I was not to deny Ti [...]iphone in any thing. Doe me then the favour (said Polexander) to relate what your fortunes are, and (without losing time) the fol­lies of this old woman. Presuppose I know them all already, and thereafter frame your selfe such an answer as you think I would make to your propositions. Truly (re­pli'd [Page 211] Amintha) you shall not scape so easily; you have made the wound, and you must worke a remedie; she spoke those words smiling, but perceiving Polexander tooke no pleasure in it; Know (said she) that Tisiphone is passionately in love with you, and be­ginning to neglect her owne interest for feare of your losse, she deferres as much as she can the combate you are to have with Astramadan: but to instruct you who that Tyrant is, I will relate what hath betided me since I was stolne away. To begin my discourse of it well, it must be by rendring you all acts of gratitude for the obligation in which I am bound to your valour for avenging me on my greatest enemie, in killing Tisiphone's protectour; I cannot tell you on what humour that insolent Spaniard cast his eyes on me, the very day that Alcidiana came to the palace of the sea; but I can say, hee found me so pleasing his fancie, that knowing well he was not like to obtaine me by his merit, he resolv'd to get mee by cunning. To that end, hee came to my lodging like a mer­chant, and having unfolded all that the luxurie of Spaine hath most voluptuously found out; he told me that he had a whole magazine of such things in his ship, and if I would goe downe to the haven, he would shew me such jewels and rarities as the Queene had not in her closet. I confesse freely to you that my curiositie which is farre more natu­rall to me then distrust, made me give credit to that traitor; and besides, I that never had so good an opinion of my beautie as to beleeve my selfe worthy the stealing away, thought the Spaniard (who call'd himselfe a merchant of Lisbone) had no other designe then to sell well his merchandize. I put off that visit till next day, and promised him to come aboord in the morning, before Alcidiana was awake, which I perform'd, accompanied onely with an Esquire and two women. He took me into his shallop, without making shew of any thing that might give me the least suspition; and in a trice getting me into his ship, talked of nothing but of Spanish cut-workes, amber'd skins, Essences, and other the like commodities. But I was no sooner aboord then foure of his servants laid hands on my Squire, and strictly bound him; my selfe and my women were brought into the hinder cabin, and reduc'd to the estate of reclaiming your suc­cour without hope of obtaining it. Whilst I made these unprofitable acclamations, and rail'd on the Spaniard for his impudence and treacherie, he made me be held by foure of his servants, and answered me not a word till his ship was farre off at sea. But when he had lost sight of Alcidiana's Island, and saw he was not pursued by any of her vessels, he commanded his men to leave me at libertie, and casting himselfe at my feet, Madam (said he) I am none of those infamous pirates which scowre the seas for all mens destru­ction, and the dishonour of women: An offence of State made me lose the favour of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabell, but with it not the qualitie of a Prince, which can­not be taken from me but with my life, though they deprived mee of all my fortunes due by birth-right. I was forced to abandon Spaine, and seeke my safetie a­mong the dangers of the sea. The companions of my better fortunes have been sha­rers in my adverse, and by a generositie, rare in the Courts of Kings, those true friends have stood constant in my miseries, and instead of abiding on the safe shore, when they saw me suffer shipwrack, threw themselves into the danger to witness their unparallel'd affection to me. These are they whom you see in my ship disguis'd like Souldiers and Mariners. I tell you this Madam, to free you from all feare, and fit you to beleeve, that being among men of qualitie, you are to apprehend nothing of violence: the greatest enemie you are to contest with, shall be the head-strong wilfulnesse of my too amorous inclination, it hath sometime made me aspire to the enjoying of a Princesse, which was one day to fill the throne of my King; and love who takes a pleasure (as well as for­tune) in seconding all daring enterprises, had rendered all my services so acceptable to her that could reward them, that I was on the point of ravishing from the King of Por­tugall all hope of the crowne of Castile. I cannot imagine you to be more rigorous then that Princesse, in denying t [...] requests of a man who never yet made any in vaine. The Spaniards insolencie put me into a rage, and casting mine eyes on him more severely then my face and spirit promised, blaming him for his vainenesse so out of all apparance; I said, that at first I tooke him but for a pirate and a ravisher, but by his speech I held him for one most extreamly impudent, a [...]a foole. I ascribe these reproaches to the strangenesse of your taking away, repli'd [...]e Spaniard, and to your little knowledge of [Page 212] my deservings: when time shall let you understand how rare those treasures are which my affection hath in store for you, I am most assured you will alter your language, and to preserve me wholly to your selfe, will not permit my returne to Spaine. To these he added many other flourishing bravadoes, but let them be buried with him; it shall suf­fice me to relate that after I had been neere a moneth so sued to and persecuted, and as much cause to complaine against heaven, and aske Justice thence for the violence I was like to suffer; either it or the sea tooke compassion of my teares, which animated against my ridiculous lover, dash'd his vessell in pieces on this Island: I sav'd my selfe unawares upon some great fardles of corke, which my feare made me lay hold on. He was taken up by fishermen which casually met with him among the rockes where we were shipwrack'd. All the rest were drowned, I was presented to Tisiphone the same day we were cast away, and the morrow after, the Spaniard was led by the fishermen (who had sav'd him) to the worthy husband of that excellent Princesse. When shee heard of the danger I had escaped, she seem'd to have some feeling of it; but when shee under­stood I had beene stolne away, and would never give consent to my ravishers desires; What (said she, cleane out of her selfe) you doe not love then? Is it possible (I repli'd) for any to love a thiefe and a traitor? You speake not enough (quoth the Queene) you must goe further, and say, It is not possible to love any man whatsoever. My fathers tyrannie hath inforc'd me to marrie the greatest enemie I have in the world; I speake it aloud, for I would have him know that my hatred increaseth daily, and if I meet not at last with some one of my subjects courageous enough to restore mee the libertie I am depriv'd of, I in my just indignation will finde strength enough to regaine it my self. Imagine whether I were terrified or no at the horrour of this first speech: But not knowing to what intent she had made it; I repli'd, that the hatred women might beare to men, could not (without blame) goe so farre as to their husbands. 'Tis to them (said the Queene) it should be most of all; for besides their being the tyrants over our liberties, they are to us continuall executioners, which, whether they flatter or abuse us, keep us night and day in torture, and are never taken by them from one, but to make us suffer a many others. At this second speech I was without an answer, and thinking my selfe not bound to contradict her, I intimated by my silence that I condemn'd her not. The first day I saw not the happy husband of that good Lady, but the next I had the pleasure of it; 'twas a Prince who truely was worthy the love his wife bore him; he was of a very ill looke, and a farre worse humour; he came to the Queen with a bru­tish fullennesse, and presented her my ravisher with a certaine barbarous authoritie, which (not to lie) was capable enough to make me partly of Tisiphone's opinion. As­soone as the Spaniard saw me, he gave an out-cry of admiration, and casting himselfe at the Queenes feet, Madam (said he) if your Majestie will have the honour to surmount that which o'recomes Kings, you have need of no other thing then to restore to mee a treasure which I thought had beene buried in the bottome of the Ocean. Fortune thought I had lost all that I could, but if you render me that Lady, (pointing to me) I make knowne that your Majestie will have inrich'd me with more then that blinde god­desse hath depriv'd me of. Tisiphone presently imagining the Spaniard might be very usefull for her abominable designes, resolv'd to winne him, and to begin that divelish trafficke; This stranger is mine (said she) but if you be so venturous a merchant to buy her at my price, you shall have the first offer. The Spaniard answered, that if I were to be purchased by any action of valour, he would ingage himselfe to imploy his arme and sword both against heaven and earth to redeeme me. By that promise their conversa­tion ended; but as if I had been borne the object of all extravagancies, Thersites (so was Tisiphone's husband called) fell in love with me, and thinking to witnesse extreamely well to me the greatnesse of his love, he spoke of it to every body, and took for his pri­vate confidents such as were accustomed to serve him in his other passions. Tisiphone knew it assoone as I, and though she was neither capable of love or jealousie, yet was she of rage and vengeance. That made her precipitate her execrable intentions, she plot­ted with the Spaniard, and neither disclosing to me nor any of her women her secret practises, so manag'd them, that Thersites [...] found dead in his bed, and none could dis­cover the instruments of the fact. Tisiphon [...] a few dayes after sent his corps to Astra­madan [Page 213] his cruell brother, and withall proclaim'd warre against him. The Isle whereof he is Lord is not distant from this above a dayes saile; thither went the Spaniard with a fleete, and had so good fortune by his armes, that but for the incomparable valour of Astramadan, (who came from afar off to the aide of his territorie) he had beene abso­lute master of. But that hardy Tyrant some three moneths since forc'd him from his Island, and I make no doubt but (to avenge himselfe) he had been already here, if hee could have gotten sufficient ships of war. Newes hath come to Tisiphone of his sending into Europe for vessells, and that assoone as they are arriv'd, he will imbarke his troupes to assaile her: she every day expects that enemie, and hath therefore set so many guards about her palace. But leave we Astramadan, and be pleased I goe on with the historie of Tisiphone; The death of her husband did but augment her aversion to all men, shee forbad on paine of death as well her subjects as strangers to come within three leagues of her palace, and to have alwayes before her eyes such objects as might confirme her in her hatred, and serve as instruments of her horrible cruelties; she sent into Africa for the most deformed and barbarous that could be found amongst the Negros: when they came, she commanded and made them cut the throats of all such as were of any eminent condition in her Court, and taking out of prison those whom her husband had cast there, gave them the title of Knights, and the places of greatest command and trust. That done, the Moores were chain'd, and rank'd about the castle to defend the accesses to it; the Spaniard was preserv'd not out of consideration of the services hee had done the Queene, nor that she thought her selfe bound to keep her word with him, but because she feared the arrivall of Astramadan, or rather that shee reserv'd him for the riddance of that tyrant in the same manner as she had freed her selfe from her husband. Now (since the Spaniard is dead) you are the man she will imploy in so notable an executi­on, if you will hearken to her; or rather, if the affection wherewithall you have mira­culously stung her, be not as miraculous to reforme the defects of so depraved a nature. After Amintha had related thus much, she stood a while looking on Polexander, and seeing he spoke not, thus went on; Since I have so well described the qualities of your lover, and discovered all that is most excellent in her, I hope I shall have no hard taske to perswade you to love her. Polexander casting forth a sigh from the bottome of his heart, Amintha (said he) you know my estate is too wretched to finde a diversion in Ti­fiphone's extravagancies; I seeke for Alcidiana, I sigh after her, and wish for nothing but the felicitie of her sight, though since your absence she hath proclaimed mee for an offender, and by an irrevocable sentence, wills that I should be sacrificed on the altars of the God of Vengeance. What is't you say (quoth Amintha)? I tell you what is true, repli'd Polexander. Pallantus whom I met in the pirates Island, related to mee the particulars of my sad fortune. Yet Amintha let us returne if it be possible to Alci­diana, and submit my selfe to all that so deare and obliging an enemie can inflict. I wish no lesse then you (repli'd Amintha) the happinesse of reviewing the Queene; but what Angell, or what Starre shall so direct our vessell that it may at last cast anchor in some one port of that inchanted Island? Either Love (said Polexander) will open us the way, or it shall never be discovered. You have often told me that perseverance never yet met with invincible difficulties: I will try whether Amintha can tell a lie, and spend all the remainder of my life in the quest of a happinesse that can never be too dear to me. But I am certaine that should the Island which you call inchanted be so farre, so as to change places every day of the yeare, nay, even to beguile all the art of Navigation, yet should it not be prevalent to hide it selfe from the travels, searches and perseverance of my affection. All that I want is a Guide that can well governe that passion: Be you so deare Amintha, persever to oblige a man that owes you all his happinesse, and be pleas'd that assoone as possible may be, I may with-draw you from a place too infamous, to have the honour of enjoying you. Amintha repli'd, that if his desire were to get from Tisi­phone, he must force himselfe, and without being so cruell, comply (at least in shew) with the passion of that foolish woman. Our Heroe besought her againe not to laugh at an unfortunate man, but to beleeve heaven was too just to permit Tisiphone to retain that which was destinated for Alcidiana. Hereupon they parted, Amintha went to Tisi­phone, to whom she gave so many hopes, that the mad woman beleev'd she had plea­sure [Page 214] enough in store for her whole life. Her joy was interrupted by the return of her He­ralds, who related there were already arrived six ships, men of warre to Astramadan, and he expected yet fifteen or twenty more, with which he intended to invade her. Besides (said one of the Heralds) he hath charg'd us to tell your Majestie, that he will not deale with you as a lawfull enemie, but intends to prosecute you as the murderer of his bro­ther, and put you to the most dreadfull torture and punishment that can enter into the imagination of his hangmen. As for the stranger Knights defiance, hee laughs at it; and sends word that if within three dayes he come not to him, he will not faile to meet him here with ten thousand men. The Queene was so affrighted with these threat­nings that she was like to forgoe all her love: she sent for Amintha, and opening to her how her affaires stood, said, that to enjoy the company of Polexander longer, she was ingag'd to lose it for a few dayes: But (said she) since I have made a vow never to trust to any ones promise, I will not suffer Polexander to goe hence, till I have good caution for his returne: I will therefore keep you here, his servants, and his ship, for I am cer­taine he cannot get from me whilst I have you in custody; he may saile to Astramadan in my gally, and for feare that tyrant may worke some treacherie against him, I will send along five hundred of my guard. But Madam (repli'd Amintha) you shew but little love to the Knight in hazarding him thus. What shall I doe (said Tisiphone) with any appearance of humanitie? I know well I thrust Polexander into danger, in sending him so weakly accompanied. The onely remedie I finde for this inconvenience is to breake off his voyage, and should I doe so, I draw on me all the forces of Astramadan. Let him therefore set saile assoone as may be, for I desire to have my minde at rest whatsoever betide me. Amintha went instantly to let our Heroe know those two re­solutions of the Queene, and seeing him displeas'd at them; Never trouble your selfe (said she) for any thing, but how you may vanquish the cruell Astramadan: all the rest will be facile enough, yet I extreamely feare that tyrants perfidiousnesse; so doe I (said Polexander) the malice of Tisiphone. This discourse ended, they went both to the Queene, when Polexander instantly told her, he onely staid for a command to meete her enemie. Goe then presently, quoth the painted Megera: but remember brave Knight that my life depends onely on your valour, and your voiage must bring forth all that ever I shall enjoy of blisse or extreame misfortune. Polexander tooke leave of the woman with a resolution never to see her againe, and so went straight to imbarke himselfe with his Moores. He made his passage in fifteene houres, and at sun-set was within ken of the high towers which were built for the defence of Astramadan's port. Diceus, who alone of all our Heroe's servants had the libertie to accompany him, peti­tioned his master to give leave that he might land with five or six Moores, and goe to Astramadan to sounder his intentions, and know in what manner he would entertaine him. Polexander who thought farre lesse on the combate he was about then on that he still waged with his discontent, yeelded to Diceus urgent supplication; and delive­ring the challenge he had written before he departed from the palace of Tisiphone, com­manded him to stay as short a time as hee could with Astramadan. This trusty servant landed with six Moores, and came quickly towards the place he was sent. As­soone as he arriv'd at the port, he was staid, and when they understood whence he came, was receiv'd very civilly and brought to the Prince. Hee put one knee to the ground, when he saw the Majestie of him who had been describ'd for one most barbarous, and without shewing either feare or rashnesse, I belong (said he) to a Prince whose fame (may be) hath attain'd your eares; the hazards of the sea casting him on Tisiphone's Island, and finding her under the terrour of your armes, he thought himselfe oblig'd to undertake her defence. But to speake nothing from my selfe, See (said he, presenting his master's challenge) the reasons which have brought Polexander to fight with you in your owne territories; and neglect all considerations which might deterre him (if I may say so) from putting himselfe alone into the hands of a great many enemies. Astra­madan answered not Diceus a word, but taking Polexander's challenge, he read it with a looke that well witnessed his choler, and after made the messenger this answer. Re­turne to your master, and tell him I will make him know that he beleeves nought of Astramadan but what is true: the cause he gives me to be his enemie, shall not hinder [Page 215] me from allowing him that entertainment his vertue deserves. To morrow I will at­tend him in the place I have prepared for the giving that satisfaction he desires. The onely thing I have to complaine of him, is, the facilitie wherewithall he hath beene in­gaged to defend such crimes as cannot be expiated but by everlasting punishments. Di­ceus returned with that answer, and watch'd all night to put in order his masters equi­page. At day-breake that Prince awoke after many [...]bers interrupted with dreams and strange visions, and called for such armes as sufficiently witnessed the sad condition of his fortune. They were of an ashy colour, and there seene in many places sparkles which sparting from under the ashes, seem'd to intimate, that they nourished a fire which had no other aliment. Hic shield was of temper'd steele, which perfectly repre­sented that blackish colour which is seen in an extreame deep water. In the midst was painted a Granado casting out fire on all parts, and these words graven round about it; [Nothing can quench it.] His horse's harnesse was of ash-colour'd velvet, one half of his plume was of the same hue, and the other like fire. Thus he came into the haven, and assoone as his horse was landed, he mounted and rid to the place for combate. He was but a while there when Astramadan came; That Prince clad in armour as polish'd as the best crystall glasse, made the sun-beames so extreamely reflect, that those which were about him scarce durst hold open their eyes. At the sound of the trumpets the two combatants parted from one another; but their meeting againe was farre otherwise: for Polexander received onely a fleight touch, but his enemie was incountered with so much vigour, that he was faine to catch hold on his horses mane, or else he had been born over his horses crupper. Our Heroe wondered to meete with so little addresse and strength in a personage which had been esteem'd almost invincible, but the sequell of the combate made him beleeve that Astramadan had put one of his Knights in his place. On that thought, he scorn'd to prosecute his victorie, and though the other came up to him very resolutely, he would not almost take the paines to fight; yet at last to put himselfe out of trouble, and to learne whereto tended so little advantageous a super [...] ­rie, bore his sword to the face of that weake enemie, and of two good eyes making but one not worth a straw, tumbled him dead betweene his horses feet. Presently hee cast his eyes towards a place fill'd full with people, as if they had been there either as witnes­ses of the death or cunning of Astramadan; but in the same time a new Knight en­tered the lists, and calling to our Heroe to take heed to himselfe, threw away his sword, and came on him with his battle-axe. Polexander thought then that Astramadan had neither resolv'd to keep his word with him, nor by the halfe to make him sensible of his perfidiousnesse; yet could hee not conceive what his reason was to assaile him but with a single man at a time: but wanting time to ruminate on so giddy an infidelitie, he went to incounter that second enemie, and in lesse then nothing made him keepe companie with him that had begun the combate. After that second came forth a third, then another, after a fifth, and to him two more, who incomparably more valiant then their companions, held Polexander play above two houres, and press'd him so neere, that if that Demon of valour had not been produc'd to surmount all others; wee must surely beleeve that Astramadan had carried away the victorie without fighting. But when the tyrant saw his seventh champion laid along, he came into the lists, and com­manding new lances to be brought Polexander, came to him on the gallop; Knight (said he at their meeting) I alwayes thought that a great Prince should never undertake any thing unworthy his courage and honour: I have therefore alwayes us'd to make tri­all (by some of my Knights) of those with whom I was to incounter. Both the Prin­ces of Morocco have passed this law; the Prince of Zanhara surnamed the Invincible, hath voluntarily submitted to it, and many others whom I will not name have return'd hence with dishonour, for not observing so reasonable a custome. Of all those Princes, two onely have been thought worthy to be chastis'd by my arme; thou art the third, and I confesse thy valour makes me jealous: and I beleeve that when I have overcome thee, it will not be the least act of my life. Polexander who found this manner of fighting very handsome, could not chuse but smile at it, but his disquiets quickly put him out of that humour; If (said he to Astramadan) the Knights of other Countreys had the invention to put their enemies to the like triall whereto thou puttest thine, there would [Page 216] many a one have falne in combating, which might else have gone away victorious. When I shall travell (repli'd Astramadan) into strange countreys to defie such Princes as command there, I will make no difficulty to accommodate my self to their customes. Nor doe I (said Polexander) make any scruple in putting thine in practise, but 'tis fit I should know them before I be obliged to their observance: neverthelesse let us make an end of that which thy Knights have begun, and let not the inequality which is now betweene us be the cause of thy ingaging mee to new trialls. With that Polexander turn'd from him, and went to chuse the strongest he could finde amongst a great many lances. Astramadan tooke an extraordinary great one, and came against his enemie with an incredible furie. Polexander recollected all his strength, and carried with a just desire of vengeance, ran against his enemie with all the swiftnesse his horse had left him. The lances flew into shivers, Astramadan's pierc'd his adversaries shield; But our Heroe ran through both his enemies shield and cuirats, and gave him a great wound on the left side, from whence the tyrant lost a great deale of bloud, but his rage being farre more then his paine, he drew his sword, and with it charg'd Polexander with such horrible blowes, that at first all he could doe was either to ward or avoid them. At last he reveng'd himselfe, and made his Antagonist feele, he could as vigorously make use of his sword as of his lance. Hee made his cuirates fly in a thousand pieces, and with a back-blow (which is not almost imaginable) he not onely parted his helmet but cleft his head in two. The tyrant's death ended not the combate, for though Polexander were cover'd with wounds and had scarce force to uphold himselfe, yet he was constrain'd to renew his forces. A woman (all dischevel'd) entered the lists with a sword in her hand, and inciting every one to fall on our Heroe; Can you indure (my friends, cry'd she) that the inhumane Tisiphone's Protector, shall returne to her with your and my Lord's head? But should you prove so cowardly as not to dare revenge him, and so in­gratefull as to forget the benefits you have receiv'd, I alone fill'd with a just resentment, will on, and inforce from him the soule of this murderer. Those words were so power­full that all they about the barriers which had weapons flew on Polexander, and not ca­ring for death forc'd him at last to yeeld to their number. Diceus gave then a great proofe of his wonted fidelitie: he fought till he was so wounded, that he came and fell for dead at his masters feet. The multitude was not contented with that revenge, but being on a further prosecution, saw themselves assail'd by divers troupes which came from the sea-side, which flew with fire and sword through all the streetes of the city. Those that abode in the field were slaine, and the rest which had retir'd themselves into some advantageous places, after a little resistance ran the same fortune. The ships in the haven were burnt, and the towne almost wholly on a fire: the flame for the whole night made a new day, the better to discover the run-awayes to the cruell prosecution of the vanquisher. This succour a little too late for Polexander, was conducted by Ti­siphone her selfe: Love causing in that Furie, what crueltie had done in other times. She put to sea presently after Polexander, and with such forces as she had ready, followed him, either to make use of his victorie if he overcame, or not to over-live him if hee were slaine. She landed from her ship by the light of the burning towne, and under­standing how great a massacre her men had made on those of Astramadan; she call'd be­fore her some Inhabitants of the Island, which had escap'd the Souldiers furie, and que­stion'd what was become of their Prince and the Knight who fought with him. They answered, that Polexander after he had slaine seven Knights belonging to Astramadan, and their master to boote, had been assaulted by that Prince's guard, and slaine after an incredible resistance. No sooner did Tisiphone heare this newes, but she caus'd those poor innocents to be taken, and their throats cut before her: that cruell execution satisfied not her fury; she hasten'd to the place of combate, and commanded her Souldiers to re­spect neither sex nor age, Palace nor Temple. Whilst those barbarous people with a great deale of pleasure executed so horrible a command, Tisiphone sought every where for our Heroe, but he was not there where she thought to have found him. Some little while after Diceus was falne (as dead) at his masters feet, he came to himselfe, and though he were exceedingly wounded, his affection yet gave him, if not strength enough, at least courage sufficient to surmount his misfortune, and indeavour to serve the King [Page 217] his master. Hee at first sight knew him by his armes, and plucking him out from ma­ny bodies which in dying were falne on him, did all his art had learn'd him, to see if there were any life left in him; for Polexander throwing forth weake fighes, and now and then groaning, made him conjecture he was yet in case to be assisted. Presently hee tooke on the very place some of the earth, mollified by the quantity of bloud which had been there shed, and clapp'd it on his masters wounds. After he saw hee was come to himselfe, Sir (said he) 'tis not enough that you live, but (if possible it may be) wee must worke so that your enemies know not of it: trie therefore to get hence, whilst the tu­mult, the night and distraction, gives you some meanes to escape. Polexander (who knew no more then Diceus of Tisiphone's arrivall) thought there was no other fit means for his safety then what Diceus had propounded: To make use of it, he quitted the re­mainder of his armour, and covering himselfe with certaine skinnes which hee found on some of those he had slaine, (with a great deale of paine) followed Diceus. At every foote, he ask'd who had set Astramadan's city on fire: Diceus (who thought on nothing but how to save his master) answer'd he knew not; and so slincking from the light as much as he could, passed through divers companies of men without any the least stay. At last he got out of the inflamed towne, but taking a way cleane contrary to that of the haven, he led Polexander two or three houres through narrow pathes that lay betweene two little hills. The losse of bloud constrained the Prince through weaknesse to lay him downe, and he had infallibly falne againe into another swoune, if Diceus had not given him some graines of an exceeding cordiall composition. That faithfull servant thinking his master could bee in no safety whilst hee was in the power of those traitors that had so unworthily wrong'd him, went along the shore to see whether he were farre from the haven. He had not gone above fifty paces but he met with a pretty broad Ri­ver, which rolling downe head-long from the top of the hill into the sea, stopp'd his fur­ther passage. This obstacle would have almost made him desperate, but that he instant­ly spi'd (through the darke) a little boat made fast neere the banke of the torrent; into it he went, and finding there five or six oares, thought it not best to neglect a conveniency which was (as it were) miraculously offered him. Backe therefore went he to Polexan­der, and intimating to him that extreame misfortunes aske the like remedies: Your good hap (said he) should it bring you from hence to the Canaries in a simple boate, will have wrought no greater miracle then it hath done in preserving your life, after the receiving so many wounds, and among so many enemies. Never then deliberate, (I beseech you) and betide what may, give not to the most perfidious of men, time to perfect their revenge. Polexander arising with a great deale of paine, Come (said he to Diceus) let's goe since thou wilt have it so, and bestow on the sea that body which thou deniest the earth. Without any more words he went on, and having no other armes then his sword, came to the rivers side, where entering the boat (by the help of his trusty servant) and cutting the rope that fastned it, the impetuousnesse of the streame bore him farre off into the sea with an extreame swiftnesse. At the same time, Tis [...]phone, equally transported with griefe and choler for the losse of that Prince, and intending to avenge it to the utmost, came to the place of combate; shee was attended by Amintha, Alcippus, and other of our Heroe's servants; and as if the flame of so many houses had not (to her wish) cast light enough for her searching, she caus'd a great many torches to belighted, that she might not mistake, but at last finde Polexander either alive or dead. Being come to the place where the slaughter had beene greatest, she her selfe turn'd and remov'd a great many bo­dies, and finding not that of, her Protector, began an incredible lamentation. In the meane while, Alcippus, who with a torch in his hand searched more narrowly then shee, came to the place from whence Polexander was newly gone, and knowing his armour, cri'd out, that he was certainly dead. His light fell out of his hands, and lifting them aloft, O Heaven! (cry'd he) jealous of extraordinary vertue, hast thou permitted an infa­mous rout to extinguish by an obscure death the bravest life of the world? With that hee turned to Tisiphone, and presenting her his tasses, and one of Polexanders gantlets, See (said he) all that you shall finde remaining of that Prince whom you have delivered into the hands and to the mercy of these murderers. Tisiph one going out of one furie that had some bounds, to another which had none at all; tooke Polexanders gantlet, and pre­senting [Page 218] it to the dead, as if they had beene in case to heare her, Villaines (cri'd she) who for these many yeares have been the authors of my afflictions, what have you done with Polexander after you had kill'd him? Shall I not have the comfort to injoy him dead, since it was deni'd me living? Seeke (said she, turning to Amintha and Alcippus) seek, ye faithfull servants of that unfortunate Prince, and if ye cannot finde his body, at least finde me his sword. What! you hearken to me, but assist me not, and instead of prose­cuting your search, content your selves with unprofitable teares and lamentations. With that she cast her selfe on the ground, and besmearing her hands and clothes in re­moving many bodies drown'd in their bloud; continued till almost day-break that hor­rible exercise. At last she found out Astramadan, and her hatred (all goary as he was) making her know him, she seem'd to be infinitely joy'd at that incounter: instantly she began extreamly to raile on him, and finding a sword cut off his eares and his nose; and the inraged woman (not to be satiated at halfes) commanded two of her Moores to strip the wretched Prince, and assoone as he was naked, she ran the sword in­to his body, and rending his breast, and tearing out his heart, Accursed heart (cri'd shee) how unfortunate am I, that thou art no more capable of suffering. How glad should I be couldest thou revive againe, and become sensible, that thou might'st feele the extre­mitie of my hatred and torments! but as dead as thou art, I must teare thee in pieces, and taste at least the shadow of that pleasure I had enjoyed in eating thee alive. To it, Tisiphone, glut thy selfe with this accursed heart; avenge thee as much as thou can'st, since thou canst not as much as thou wouldest: and intermingling love, hatred, despaire, revenge and death together, give succeding times a prodigious example what a wo­man can doe, when she is as hardy as she is unfortunate. With these words the inra­ged woman gnaw'd off and swallowed a piece of Astramadan's heart; and whether that dismall morsell choak'd her, or (as 'tis most likely) the excesse of her furie discompos'd all that order of nature which preserves life, so it was that she fell starke dead at Amin­tha's feet, and freed her age of a monster which had made Heaven accus'd of Injustice, had she not been punished by an exemplary chastisement. Amintha, Alcippus, and o­thers of Polexander servants, being delivered from that womans tyrannie, thought of nothing but[?] on what they had lost: Dead Polexander was the onely object which be­came master of their thought. They invited one another to weepe and bewaile him, and to preserve his memorie for ever among them, made a vow to keepe more charily then their lives, the reliques that were left of him. Amintha tooke the gantlet which Tisiphone let fall in dying, Alcippus his helmet, and distributed the other pieces of his Princes armour to his most affectionate servants: which done, he erected a pillar in the midst of that fatall place, and fastning to it Astramadan's armour, all broken as it was; tooke a great shield which he found all whole on the ground, and writ thereon with bloud these words following: ‘Polexander for the eternall memory of his Victo­ry, and Astramadan's Treachery, in the midst of this by fire consumed Towne, hath here fix'd his Enemy's Armes which he lost with his life.’

This Trophie being erected, Amintha and Alcippus returned to the port, and imbarking themselves in our Heroe's vessell, thought of nothing more then how to accomplish the vow they had made to eternize the lamentation for his death. But he (in the meane time) laid along in his boate without any more strength then what might suffice him to undergoe his many wounds, was row'd on by the weake armes of Diceus, or rather by fortune, who desirous to belie those who accus'd her of that Prince's death, imploy'd all her endeavours to preserve his life. His boat made mighty quicke way, whilst it was carried by the violent swiftnesse of the torrent; but when that impetuousnesse was lost in the bosome of the Ocean; Diceus perceiv'd he had not strength enough to handle the [Page 219] oares, and imagining straight he had lost his master in striving to save him, did so vively resent it, that the most of his wounds opened againe, and he the second time fell for dead at his masters feet. The Prince beleev'd he was so indeed, and bestowing on him some teares as the last tokens of his affection: Goe Diceus, (said he) goe to thine eter­nall rest; and if Fidelitie as the most necessary vertue, is the most worthily recompenc'd, take thy place among the highest thrones which Eternitie reserves for the truly blessed; I shall soone follow thee, and restore (if I dare hope it from the mercy of Heaven) the prsence of that master whom thou hast alwayes so extreamely loved. After he had spoke thus, he stood some time without losing his sight and yet not seeing any thing; but by little and little growing weaker, it seem'd to him as if a thicke cloud tooke all light from him. Then indeed 'twas he thought he should die, and that the judgements of heaven laying before him the vanities of his youth, as so many causes of his condemnation, and the ill imployments in which he had exercised his life; hee fell to his oraizons. After which he left all knowledge, and lay a long while be twixt dead and alive. In which time his boat carried by the waves out of sight of the desolate Island, floated almost two dayes at the will of the the winde, which having no lesse care of him then it would for a nest of Halcions, brought them happily to an Isle, where Polexander and Diceus reco­vered againe that life which they had more then halfe lost. Truly that succour betided them, whence with reason they could not expect any, and heaven permits it, to teach us, that sooner or later a good action shall have a due recompence. In the very place where Polexander's boat arriv'd, there lay a ship at anchor which had been but ill hand­led by the late tempests; the masts were broken, the rudder torne off, and the body. open in many places: at sight of our Heroe's boat, a great many men very fantastically clad came on the hatches, and some of them getting into a little skiffe, came close to it. They no sooner saw Polexander, and Diceus stretched out, as dead, but their commise­ration made them resolve, either to relieve them if they were alive, or if not, to be­stow the last dues on their corps. One lay downe close by our Heroe, and lifting up his head, did not onely wash his face with the sea-water, but holding his mouth close to the Princes, perceiv'd he had yet a little breathing. If his joy w [...]e great, his cha­ritie was a great deale more, for instantly he gave him of a drug whose vertue was so powerfull and speedy, that he no sooner (almost) had it in his mouth, but his weak sen­ses regain'd part of their ordinary vigour. Diceus had no need of that remedy, for his owne strength o'recame his long swouning, and as he was talking, and about to aske the King his master, if he were yet alive, he prevented him; and speaking (without opening his eyes) Is it thy voyce I heare Diceus? (said he weakly) tell me; and come neerer to thy Polexander, who as well as thee, is now no more then a shadow, wandering for his of­fences in eternall obscuritie. Polexander's voyce so astonish'd the man who so charitably assisisted him, that he gave a great exclamation, and divers times repeared the name of Polexander. When he had done, he arose, and earnestly gazing on our Heroe, began to cry out louder then before, and with gestures which shewed the extremitie of his ad­miration, Come (said he, to his companions) and see, this is certainly Polexander. O what a happy shipwracke have we made! since it hath cast us on a place where we meet with him whom we had vainly sought for in all the world else. But what said I? ra­ther O infortunate incounter, since we finde this great Prince in so different a state from that wherein our master the Ynca imagin'd wee should see him! Polexander was too weake to reply, and Diceus too languishing to understand them well; they opened their eyes together, but 'twas rather to take their leaves of light then to enjoy it; and certain­ly it had been so without the extraordinary assistance of those charitable strangers. For five or six dayes together they watch'd the master and his servant, and treated them with so much affection, that forgetting what they ow'd themselves, they thought not of repairing their ship. In that while, Polexander began to be well strengthen'd, and knew who had sav'd his life: But 'twas not without a great deale of wonder; Is it possible (said he to one of them) that you are Garruca? The same, (repli'd that charitable friend) doubt it not; and to bring you newes from your deare Zelmatida I have thrice crossed the Ocean. Polexander imbrac'd him, and rendering many thankes for the travells he had undergone for his sake; Zelmatida then (said he) hath at last carried away the victory [Page 220] o're what he so long contested? My Lord (repli'd Garruca) knowing the generousnesse of your soule, and her contempt of the worlds greatnesse, I aske not what victorie you meane: but Zelmatida is fully victorious, and though he be not seated in the throne of the Yncas, and the brutish ambition of Atabaliba threatens him with lasting warre and horrible revolutions; yet I may well say, he is fully a conquerour, since the incompara­ble vertue of Izatida hath worthily recompenc'd the travels of that incomparable Lover. If thou desirest I should live (said Polexander) my deare Garruca, if thou wouldst (in the midst of my afflictions) make me capable of any contentment, I intreat thee to relate the end of thy masters miseries. Without much trouble (quoth Garruca) I obey, since to expresse a happinesse so long sought for so many years, and for which, so long and so vio­lent miseries have been indured, there needs but two or three words. You may there­fore be fully satisfi'd when I have said, the Ynca my master is the Princesse Xaira's hus­band. Manage a little better my joy, said Polexander, and doe not thus precipitate my contentment, but let me receive by little and little a potion that may free me from the sense of all my afflictions. Call to minde the Island where Zelmatida and my self parted, and keepe him not twenty or thirty dayes at sea before hee speakes with Izatida: Say they came to Quasmes with all necessary circumstances, satisfie the desire I have of the parents and daughters knowing each other. And lest thou mai'st ancipitate my imagination, bring me ere I be aware to that happy day, wherein, by the losse of Izatida, I may see the fatall Xaira borne againe. I will, (said Garruca) since 'tis your pleasure and command, to give you satisfaction, repli'd Garruca: but first be pleas'd I give you my Kings letters, and let you know how the good Quasmes resents so many favours vvherewithall you have eternally oblig'd himselfe, his sonne, and his daughter. With that Garruca went to his cabin (by Polexanders leave) and return'd with a little boxe made very artificial­ly of foure wonderfull great Emeralds: he open'd and presented it to Polexander, who tooke out eight or ten little plates of gold, which being put one on another, shew'd them divers characters, which signified this that followes.

Quasmes the unworthy Image of that Deity he knowes not, to Polexander inlightned by the everlasting Sun.

IF I durst doe it without blasphemy, I would call thee (great Prince) the tutelary An­gell of my estates, my kingdome, and my selfe. Thou hast all alike preserv'd us, and my old age should have beene more unfortunate then ever, if thy goodnesse had not ta­ken pity on my afflictions, and thy charitable hands wip'd off teares, in drying the source which seem'd to make them eternall. My poore Xaira, without thy assistance, had been more lost to her desolate father, then shee was in the very dungeons of Montezuma: I confesse I owe thee for her, and if I chance to live in my posterity, I must withall acknow­ledge thee to be the cause of my second being. I am transported with a sacred rapture as often as my dear Zelmatida unfolds to me the mysteries thou hast reveal'd to him; and tels me that our soules shall one day be more resplendent starres then those which make their nightly geers over our heads. What can I render to thee, O thou deare childe of heaven, for such things as inforceth us to respect our gold, our pearles and emeralds, as the excrements of the unfortunate land we inhabite? Nothing certainely since in in­joying the knowledge of the true Deity, thou hast the sole treasure which all mortalls can wish for: 'Tis thy part therefore to continue thy liberalities, and not expect from our acknowledgement but a just and insatiable desire of daily receiving more. Garruca whom vve send to thee, to make thee partaker of our common joyes, is particularly commanded to receive thy instructions, touching the vvonderfull effects of love, of that Deity thou hast made knovvne to us; [...]ch him (if it please thee) those truths so much importing our happinesse, and make him comprehend for vvhat cause that eternall Monarch vvould put himselfe in the place of his enemies, to deliver them from those pu­nishments to vvhich they vvere by him justly condemned.

[Page 221] After Polexander had read this letter, he cast forth many pious ejaculations; and in the meane while Garruca put up the little plates into their box, and delivering it to the Prince, gave him withall Zelmatida's and Xaira's letters, very neatly written in vellam. He opened the King's, and read this.

Zelmatida Successour of the Yncas, to Polexander, the greatest of the Croseat Princes.

IF my happinesse had depended on any thing else then the enjoying of Izatida, I would have staid till time had seated me in the throne of my forefathers, to have made known to you that I am perfectly fortunate: but since (without yeelding ought to my affection) I am certaine, that the great Empire of [...]inacapa cannot be to [...]e but a great hinderance, I will not say a great misfortune; should I not be injurious to Izatid [...]'s vertue, if I were no more, without assuring you that there wants nothing to make me per­fectly happie? I will say it boldly Polexander, and the rather because I have daily [...]ew as­surances, that imagination represent [...] to us contentments infinitely below their realitie: mine have gone beyond my hopes and thoughts, and leave on my hands neither trouble nor care, but what ariseth from my inabilitie of representing them as they are resented. I hope time will give me eloquence sufficient to expresse them: in the meane while, I wish you were well skild in so sweet and pleasing a language, and that the enjoying Alcidiana had taught you all the graces and ornaments of it.

POlexander sigh'd often whilst hee read the letter, [...]nd was pleas'd to witnesse by that sad language that he was as yet ignorant of Zelmatida's. He put up his letter againe into a little box of diamonds which serv'd as for a coverture; and tooke that of the Princesse Xaira, which spoke thus.

Xaira to her Benefactor POLEXANDER.

AFter the letters of the King my father, and my Lord Zel [...]ida, I should have nothing left to write, if your obligations wherein I am [...] did not furnish me with such thoughts as neither of them could conceive. I [...] therefore tell you, that as the contentments which each of them [...]aste apart, are only re [...]ted in me; so the resentment of your favours which is divid [...] betwixt them, is altogether intirely treasu­red in my soule. One of them contemplates you [...] d [...]liverer of his daughter, and the other as the preserver of hi [...] wife: but I consider you as a [...] Angell, by whose as­sistance, with the sight of my body, I have recovered the eyes of my soule; and with a most worthy husband, a father, whose like the world containes not. These truely are extreame obligations, I yet desire their [...]; and to obtaine it, I joyne my humble requests with the intreaties of the King [...]y father, and the Prince my lord, and beseech you with them, that you will perfect the discoverie to us of those light [...] by which you have begun to draw us out of that darknesse wherein we languished with the rest of our world.

POlexander put off the answering those letters to another time, and admiring no lesse the pietie then the affection of those truely royall mindes: it had beene very [Page 222] hard (said he to Garruca) if that persons of so eminent a vertue should have lesse solid contentments then those they now injoy. The Deitie whom they love and seeke with so much fervencie, should not be what he ought to be eternally, if after the tri­all of their constancies by so many adversities they had not been crown'd with all kind of gifts and consolations. Garruca being very glad that this discourse led him out of it selfe to that which was the most important of his Embassy, told Polexander that his Kings seem'd to be ordained by Heaven to drive all Idolatrie out of the new world, and do that by their pietie and good examples, what the Spaniards vainly pretended by their cruellties and tyranny. I shal with a great deal of joy (said Polexander) give satisfaction to Quasmes in what he desires from me, and we will not part, till I have not onely given you instructions, but withall Doctors, that shall attend you into the new world, for the perfection of so pious a worke. Thus ended their converse for that time, and Zelma­tida's last adventures were put off to the next conveniency. Two or three dayes passed, during which, our Heroe variously perplext with his adverse fortune, was not capable of any diversion? he besought a hundred times in the day for an end of his miseries; and ad­dressing himselfe to Heaven, I acknowledge (said hee) I doe too stubbornely persist a­gainst the will of the infinite Wisdome; I search after a happinesse is forbidden me, and forsake what I am commanded to follow: Change my intention if it be absolutely ill; but 'twill be more easie to exterminate the offender then rout out the crime. After this petition he resign'd himselfe wholly to that Providence which at once he invoak'd to his succour and destruction, and promising an indifferency whereof he was incapable, was a few moments as insensible of that excesse of love he bore to Alcidiana.

ALCIDIANA, by the favour of Heaven, queen of the happy Island, to Pisander her Lievtenant-Ge­nerall, and her subject.

I Understand (to my griefe) that the second yeare of thy government is far differing from the first. Not long since I receiv'd the benedictions of great and small; and all the Townes, in emulation of one another, sent to render me their thankfulnesse, for giving them so just and so favourable a Protectour. But now their Deputies come all together to demand justice for thy oppressions. What e're the cause be of thy alterati­on, know Pisander, I will have thee continue in that charge whereof I thought thee worthy; and on the next complaint is made of thee, I will abandon thee to such lawes as are made against those that are guiltie of high treason.

After the reading of this Letter, I saw that my plot would not take; yet I perswa­ded my selfe, I might get by one way what I could not by the other: and to make tryall of it, I resolved to let the Queen know, that I no other way disobey'd her com­mands, but in my not being able to execute them. Under this pretext, I took the bold­nesse to answer her letter thus:

Pisander to the queen his soveraigne Lady.

IF Kings, as the Gods, could in conferring charges bestow withall such faculties as are necessarie for their due execution, I doubt not, Madam, but your Majestie in ho­nouring mee with the prime command in your estate, would have provided mee with the utmost of sufficiencie. But since such a gift is not to be expected but from Heaven, I humbly beseech your Majestie, not to exact from me that which is neither in your power nor mine. I confesse, that the complaints have not been heretofore so many and great as they are now. But impute it not Madam to mine integritie, to my care, or my capacitie. You know well, that the vulgar naturally love novelties, that changes to them are in lieu of remedies; and that they beleeve they goe from good to bad, when they passe from an ill which they know, to another which they know not. Let your Majestie be pleas'd to joyne this consideration with that of the to be bewail'd estate wherein I am. That you would vouchsafe to look on me as on a man, who in lieu of being able to governe others, hath need to be govern'd himselfe. That you would know, if I offend, 'tis out of the disorder of my mind, not of my man­ners. In a word, that Pisander is not wicked, but hee is sick; and his maladie being a stroke from Heaven, he must necessarily finish his miserable dayes by that anger which the complaints and accusations of your subjects have rais'd against him.

This Letter was sent, but it was not receiv'd. Alcidiana fearing, lest after the losse of my respect in mine actions and discourse, I might as well neglect it in my Letters, threw it into the fire, and told him who presented it to her, that she demanded obe­dience, and not replies. When I heard how cruelly I had been treated, Ah! pitilesse Queen (said I) thou hast then rais'd mee to this height onely, that I might receive a fall which should be infallibly mortall. I am content to perish, since thou wilt have it so; but if thou be not altogether without judgement, thou wilt at least confesse, that I receiv'd my death from her hand whose life I preserved. My griefe stai'd not on the vanitie of lamentations, but proceeded to actions; and blotting out of my mind all other thought then that of dying, won me to send back to the Queen all her cere­monious markes of dignitie. Presently I gave over all mine Office, and shutting my selfe up in an Hermits lodge, there abode twelve or fifteen dayes, not suffering any of my friends to come neere mee, nor enduring the presence of any of my houshold­servants. [Page 286] I wept, I complain'd, I ask'd vengeance from Heaven for Alcidiana's ingra­titude, whereas (indeed) I should have begg'd her pardon for my disobedience; and when I thought that my messengers were got to the Princesse, I took poste, and came to Court. I truly doubted, that if the Queen had notice of my coming, I should not onely be barr'd from her presence, but ran a hazzard to lose the hope of ever seeing her more. To avoid that diaster, I abode conceal'd till day in the place where shee was wont to give audience to people of all sorts. As soon as I was certaine of her be­ing in the throne of Justice, and that she dream't not at all of my coming, I slid closely into the Hall of audience. O deare companion in my bonds! what Miracle? what Sun? what Divinitie saw I in seeing Alcidiana? When shee was seated in her Throne, and her Ushers had impos'd silence, I strook through the throng of those that came to implore justice, and throwing my selfe at her feet, presently discover'd who I was: yet feigning to take no notice of the peoples astonishment, (occasion'd by their seeing me there) and principally the Princesses; I come (said I) Madam, to put mee into the hands of your justice as a malefactour, (who being able to save himselfe, and yet not of proofe to indure the cruell stings of conscience) comes out of deserts and retreats of securitie, to deliver himselfe into the hands of his Judges. 'Tis true, Madam, 'tis to be punish'd, and not to request a pardon, that I throw my selfe at your Majesties feet. I doe not intreat you to remember my services, nor to cast your eyes on a wretch, who is more rigorously punish'd then his faults seem to deserve: I confesse, I have disobey'd your commands, abused those honours you bestow'd on mee, and to speake them all in full and to the height, I have oppress'd the innocent whom I was bound to protect and make happy. Avenge then your neglected authoritie, degrade me from those honours I am unworthy of, and hearken to the voice of your people which cries for vengeance on my tyrannie. The greatest of my sorrowes, next to the losse of your favours is, that I have but one poore miserable life to expiate so many of­fences, and give satisfaction to the number I have oppressed. Here I stai'd, and with mine eyes cast to the earth, attended what Alcidiana would pronounce against me. But in lieu of answering me, she turn'd to her high Chamberlaine, and making no shew of being any way moved, I deliver (said she) this mad man into your custodie; take him hence, and see him forth coming on your life. The Chamberlaine, who was my friend, took me to his owne house, and though hee made shew of a great deale of sor­row for my dis-favour, yet he fail'd not to have such on eye over mee, that was impos­sible for me to have escaped, if I had had any such intention. The third night after my confinement, I was privately brought to the Queens Palace by the Chamberlain. At the doore Amintha receiv'd me, and intreating my conductor to stay, brought mee into a chamber where Alcidiana was. Assoon as I saw her, I fell at her feet, and perceiving I was ready to swoune, Madam (said I) let mee dye quickly, and suffer mee not to lan­guish any longer. With that I fell downe, not knowing any bodie for neere a quarter of an houre. When Amintha recovering mee, I rose againe on my knees before the Queen, and letting her know, that what I requested came from mine heart: I beseech you Madam (said I, then weeping) to be no more cruell to me, then you are to the rest of your subjects, and suffer your selfe to be mov'd at mine indurements. These words forcing from her soule all the indignation my extravagancies had be got there, she for a while held her eyes fix'd on me, and after a long thoughtfulnesse, Wretch (said she) with what torture should not I punish thy disobedience? But I must not doe so. I un­derstand by thy speeches thou offendest not willingly, but that before thou wert re­solv'd to cast off the respect thou owedst me, thou hadst lost thy judgement. Speak, unfortunate man, what is become of that discretion, which went for a Proverb a­mongst the people, and made the most judicious to say, that at last wisdome and youth were met together? Doest thou not see to what precipices thou daily run'st of thine owne contriving? Art thou not afraid, lest my patience grow wearie, and that my pi­tie being exhausted, I should to that justice which I owe to my selfe, as well as to my subjects? But this is what is wished (thou say'st) and truly, I perceive well by thy acti­ons, that thou art fall'n into such a frenzie, as makes thee delight in what is most dreadfull. The love I owe to her that gave thee birth, and the services thou hast done [Page 287] me, preserve a sufficient will to dispose me to the forgetting thy crimes, and to take pitie on thy folly. Yes, Pisander, I will be so mercifull; and would have thee know, that I would willingly give a part of my Kingdome, if by that losse I could settle thee againe in the estate I wish thee. Whilst the Queen spake, mine eyes were not drie. I strove to stay my teares, but 'twas in vaine. There was no remedie but they must flow forth, and in spight of my desire to answer the Queen, I must abide a while silent. When my sighes and suffocatings, as well as my teares, gave mee leave to answer the Queen, Madam (said I) mine indiscretion is so great, that hitherto it hath not given in any intervall. But your Majesties wisdome hath suspended that tyrannicall power, and gives mee the use of reason. Be pleas'd, Madam, that I imploy well these good motions, and in expression of my gratitude, that I confesse I am amaz'd at the new proofes of your clemencie. Truly, Madam, when I consider the height of my guilt, I cannot give credit to mine eares, nor be perswaded there can be found on the face of the whole earth a goodnesse so neere approaching to the Divinitie, who in stead of punishing offences, proposeth a reward to the guiltie, on condition they will be con­verted. You will have care of my life, Madam, and yet it is an unhappy source from whence have flow'd all the discontents your Majestie hath met with since you came into the world. The Gods love you. Nature hath out-gone her selfe to make you the chiefest of her miracles. Strangers admire you, which never had the felicitie of seeing you. Your people find no other difference betwixt the Deitie which they adore and you, save that the first is invisible, and you are seen among them. Even things inani­mate seem to take a soule when the businesse is of pleasing you. In short, there is no­thing which conspires not to make you as happy as faire. The detestable Pisander onely opposeth that generall Law; and by an attempt, worthy of thunder, hath dared to contest with heaven and earth, with Gods and men, fortune and vertue. Take, Madam, take Pisander out of the world, and you shall find nothing after to molest you. The Queen, not induring the continuation of this speech: But (said shee) at least let me know what thou pretendest. Madam (said I) I pretend to die, since it is forbidden me to have any other intentions. The desire of death (repli'd Alcidiana) is a pleasing errour, which is hardly forc'd from a soule that gives no eare to reason; yet must thou strive to overcome this frenzie. Labour at it, Pisander, if thou wilt be ad­vis'd by Alcidiana, and take her word for it, thou wilt get the upper hand. I had a great mind to contradict this counsell, but Alcidiana arose, and gave mee no time to answer. Amintha (who without doubt knew the Queens intention) no sooner saw her retired, but shee took mee by the hand, and causing mee to sit downe by her: You see, Pisander (said shee) there's no more time to flatter or feed your selfe with idle hopes, which vanitie usually puffes up young men withall. The Queen loves you; and you cannot doubt of it, after so many proofes given you. But shee loves you so, as a good Mistresse should love an excellent servant, and a Queen extremely just, a most usefull and loyall subject. Beyond that you are to expect nothing. And I make known to you now, as a person who much values you, and takes part in all your interests, that if you had a thousand lives, and that they were all absolutely needfull for the Queens preservation, shee would see them all lost rather then to give any longer way to the continuance of your follies. And beleeve me, Pisander, it should even make you dye for shame, or at least, if you have not been wise enough to hinder the beginning, yet to be so in stopping the progression. Doe not seeme to be wise to no purpose, nor strive to conceale from me what you have in your heart. Is it not true, that you are in love with the Queen? 'Tis an offence which you esteem too glorious, that there should need the torture to draw the confession of it from you. You are not the first foole of your kind. Others farre beneath you have had the like extravagancies. But doe not you think with your selfe, that as those Darers have made themselves the laughter of all the Court, and the scorne of judicious people, that in the end you will make your selfe ridiculous, and be taken for a man fit for a bable, or to be shut up in the Hospitall of the Incurabili? In your owne conscience can you be so vaine, or rather mad to beleeve, that the Queen can fall in love with you? or to make amends for that which she hath shewne you, you would oblige her to take her Nurses son for her [Page 288] husband? When Amintha had no more to say, I thus repli'd: My birth (as you know, Amintha) is so eminent, that I see none (the person of the Queen excepted) who is above me; and I dare say without boasting, that shee shall either never marry, or be constrain'd to link with such a man, whose extraction shall not be able to parallel with mine: Not that I will place a thing (to me) of so small esteem in rank with those that may merit the favour of Alcidiana. There are requisite to it qualities of courage and wit, as rare as are her vertues and beautie. There must be a long perseverance, a faith inviolable; there must be respects and extraordinarie submissions: in briefe, there must (by long services) be a testimoniall. that the enjoying of so inestimable a jewell is the onely end of all thoughts and actions. Amintha at those words interrupting me: You (said shee) imagine these things to be of great value, but I assure you they are worth nothing, if they be not approv'd of by such for whose sake they are done. Now the Queen not onely gave no approbation to your errours, but from time to time let you understand by her wonted discretion, that you thereby irreparably offended her. From this veritie draw a necessarie conclusion, and you shall find, that even that on which you build your merits and pretensions, destroyes both the one and the other. If it behove me to consider my actions (I repli'd) as you look on them, I confesse, I never did Alcidiana any service, nor am to expect any thing from her. But I have a way of reasoning which confutes yours; and to tell you sincerely, what you but now deman­ded of mee, 'tis, that I will rather forgoe my life then that passion which Alcidiana condemnes, and in spight of her rigour, disdaine, and threatnings, will never give over the prosecution of that which I esteem as my chiefest happinesse. Thou art lost, Pisan­der, cri'd that judicious Lady. Would Heaven might please to divert my presaging, and restore to thee that reason which thine ill Angell hath depriv'd thee of. After these words Amintha arose, and remitting mee into the hands of the Chamberlaine, com­manded him very severely to observe strictly what the Queen had given him in charge. I quickly understood what that new command was. As soon as I was return'd to my prison, I was shut into a chamber whose windowes were all grated with iron; none of my friends or servants were permitted to see mee: and thus was I kept neere three moneths, speaking and thinking such things as you may well imagine. At the end of that time, the great Chamberlaine came and brought me newes of my libertie, and told me, that the Queen had chosen mee to goe to render in her name the tribute to the Sun her father, and to celebrate in this Isle the sacrifice of their Alliance. I ac­cepted of that honour, as of an evident assurance that the Queen had resolv'd to ruine mee. My despaire too broke out more then ever; and if eight or ten men, who flew in upon me, had not taken away all power of offending, I had well let them know, that any man may die when he list. The Queen, hearing of my furie, sent some (devoutly consecrated) to visit me, whose eloquence and sanctitie of life did daily miracles. They came, and neglected nothing that might free me of my frenzie; and perform'd it, af­ter many long resistances. Then I betook me to my former calme, and confirming to them in cold bloud what I had spoken in my fits: Yes, fathers (said I) I will die, but let not this resolution make you beleeve, that I have any remainder at all of despaire left within mee. I sweare to you by that Eternall name which we are not suffered to abuse, that I will not precipitate the end of my dayes; and that, whether it be in war or otherwise, I will strive to meet it in such a way as may be said, I ran not headlong to it. A few dayes after this declaration, all things were ready for my voyage. I had notice of it; and Amintha coming to mitigate my afflictions, I intreated her to be a meanes to the Queen that I might take my leave of her. She made mee answer, that could not be done. At least then (said I) deliver her a letter from mee. I cannot doe that neither (repli'd shee) for I am [...]o expresly forbidden it. Well, Amintha then (cri'd I) I must then die, and die without pitie. Let Alcidiana have her will. As soon as Amintha had left me, I went to ship, and with the first good wind setting saile, in eighteen dayes arriv'd in this Island. The high Priest, predecessour to this here now, receiv'd me with the same ceremonies you saw practis'd at your arrivall. The pomp of our sacrifices deserves well my describing it to you, but my mind is not able to busie it selfe with such unprofitable intertainments. Give mee leave therefore (without [Page 289] medling that way) to end the storie of my misfortunes, and leave the afflicting your thoughts with the representation of so many sad and deplorable accidents. You may please to know then, that after the unbloudy sacrifice had been performed, and they were to celebrate one like that you saw perform'd this day, I went to the chiefe Pre­late, and besought him to put mee in the place of him whom the lot should that day condemne to die. The Priest at first knew not how to take a speech that seem'd so out of all reason; but perceiving that I constantly persisted in my petition: My son (said he) you are not the first to whom the hatred of living hath given the like desire. 'Tis not long since a Prince (whom I will not name) came expresly into this Isle to find that death, which his feare to offend heaven permitted him not to bestow on himselfe. To free him from that ungodly fantasie, I used all my best and the same reasons wherewithall I am bound now to contest with yours. Know therefore, that homicide is not committed onely by our hands, it is committed too by our wills; and hee is no lesse a murderer of himselfe that seeks the occasion of his owne death, then if he had indeed strook the poniard into his own breast: inasmuch as sin consists not but in a determinate will to doe the ill, or to procure it. This being so, my sonne, struggle generously with that temptation which would hurry you to your ruine; and be assur'd, that 'tis all one thing to cover what you desire, and to turne your owne weapons on your selfe. But if you have just cause to hate life, and that the miseries which are link'd to humane condition, in stead of exercising your patience, have abso­lutely o'recome it, have recourse to that innocent and harmlesse remedie which Reli­gion offers to free you from the tyrannie of fortune and your passions. Consecrate your selfe to the Eternall Providence which we adore in this Island under the figure of the Sunne, and expect without murmuring or disquiet what it hath ordain'd, shall be­come of your life, that so you may find your peace in your obedience, and merit in making your selfe happy. Father (I repli'd) how much impatience soever I meet withall in searching out a better condition then mine owne, and however dreadfull the tortures may be, which the continuation of my life prepares for mee, yet will I follow your advice, and to assure you that I will never wave it, even now I make a vow to put my selfe among the number of the Slaves of the Sun. The chiefe Prelate, after hee had accepted my vow, told me, it must be publish'd in consecrating my selfe before all men to that great Sun, whereof the Sun was but an imperfect image. Those ceremo­nies were put off to the next day, and then I tooke on these fetters which I weare so joyfully, that if my judgement faile mee not, I doe not beleeve the happinesse of en­joying Alcidiana would have been more pleasing to mee. As soon as Lynceus (so is the Pilots name which serves in the sacred Vessell), saw mee in my new slaverie, hee took leave of the Priest, and return'd towards the Inaccessible Island. Polexander be­ing no longer able to containe himselfe, ask'd (straight) Pisander at what time Alci­diana's Vessell did use to arrive at the Isle of the Sun. If you live but two moneths longer (repli'd Pisander) you shall see that glorious Vessell here, laden with offerings wonderfull for their raritie, and with victimes almost as spotlesse as is the Princesse which sends them to the God of puritie. 'Tis to be confess'd (said Polexander) that you have been wonderfull generous, in being able to preserve a respect to such a personage, which seems to have gone out of her selfe, of purpose, to forget what shee truly owed you. Whatsoever Alcidiana doth (repli'd Pisander) shee cannot be accused for doing ill. Her vertues are so extreme, that she can make good what is not so in it selfe; and ingratitude would become a vertue, if of necessitie Alcidiana should become ingrate­full. With this height of praise ended the conversation of the two Slaves; the one of Alcidiana, the other of the Sun. Polexander would gladly have continued the discourse, but fearing he should not be master enough of his emotions, hee preferr'd a solid con­tentment before that which could not be but imaginary, and praising in himselfe Pi­sander, return'd to his lodging. The desire he had to disburthen himselfe to Diceus of these important secrets he laetly learn't, caus'd him (as soon as hee was retir'd) to take leave of Pisander, and shut himselfe in private with his trusty servant. Friend (said he) my conjectures are become reall truths. We are in the fatall Island, from which there is a certaine passage to the Inaccessible Isle. 'Twas from hence Lynceus return'd, [Page 290] when I descri'd him neere to the Canaries; and to this place hee or some other is to come within two moneths to celebrate the famous sacrifice of Alliance, whereof wee have so often heard spoken. I know it from so good a hand, that 'twere meere folly to doubt of it; and that thou may'st be as confident as I am, hearken from whom it comes to me. Thereupon he epitomiz'd to him the storie of Pisander; and though he were his Rivall, yet he forgot nothing of what was due to so perfect a lover. Diceus, after a many exclamations and excessive expressions of his exceeding joy, imbrac'd the King his Master: Your Majestie (said hee) may be assured, that our joyes, as well as griefes, never come alone. For as before your arrivall in this Island, there was no day pass'd which brought you not some new misfortune, you may now likewise beleeve, that from henceforward you shall meet with as many felicities as you see the Sun's rising. This very day presents you many together. For besides that which you have enjoy'd in Pisanders relation, I bring you another, which is not to be accounted a­mongst those of small importance. You have heretofore thought, that the chiefe Priest did much resemble Alcippus, and I tell you for truth, 'tis even hee himselfe. I learn't it from one of his servants, and should have knowne it from his owne mouth, if I had not fear'd to discover you in disclosing my selfe to Alcippus. O Diceus (said Polexander) how increasest thou my happinesse! and how perfect is it, since with the hope of seeing Alcidiana, I re-gaine the best part of my selfe. But Diceus, if thou truly lovest mee, doe not deferre the contentment thou mayest give mee. Find out some meanes to get into the Arch-priests lodgings, invent some occasion to speak with him, and work it so, that hee may know I am here. Diceus, who was wont to serve the King his Master, with as much promptnesse as fidelitie, left him as soon as he had wait­ed on him into the Hall where the noble Slaves were wont to eat together; and un­der pretext of carrying some Letters to the Embassadors of the King of Gheneoa, who were upon going thence, slid into the Arch-priests lodgings. He found him at supper, and when he saw the place void of strangers which had supp'd with him, intreated the Prelate for a private audience. The Arch-priest looking wistly on him, bid him speak what he desired; but Diceus, falling at his feet, feigning a discontented man, My Lord (said he) that which hath given me the boldnesse to present my selfe before you is not onely long to be dilated, but of such importance, that I cannot (without being author of an extreme misfortune) impart it to any save your selfe. Your charitie, which is indifferently extended to all persons afflicted, will not (I hope) deny me one moment of your leasure to give eare to my miseries. The Arch-Prelate; thinking hee should know Diceus voice, and desirous to cleere himselfe of such troubles as he had felt at the first sight of Polexander, commanded Diceus to arise; and taking him (by the hand) into his withdrawing-chamber (whence he commanded two or three of his Slaves, who usually attended there) shut the doore himselfe, and then sitting downe on a Couch, Speak boldly (said hee to Diceus) here's none but my selfe can heare you. Diceus, knowing Alcippus as well by his voice as countenance, My Lord (said he) my name is Diceus, and I serve King Polexander. At which words the chiefe Priest, as transported, arose, and taking a light, stood long gazing on Diceus, At last, hee clapp'd the taper againe on the table, and casting his armes about Diceus neck, By what miracle (said he) art thou risen from the dead? or rather (deare Diceus) by what prodigie can'st thou live, and see thy deare Master wrap't up in dust? The King lives, repli'd Diceus; and though time, travell, and the torrid Zone have so changed him, that he is scarce to be knowne, yet I thought your affection would never let him slip out of your memory. 'Tis that same Illustrious Slave whom the King of Gheneoa desires to consecrate to that Sun he adores in heaven, and to the other he honours on earth. I doe not wonder now (repli'd Alcippus) at those emotions I felt at the first sight of that Slave. My soule, more cleer▪ fighted then mine eyes, knew him, all disguis'd as he was, and by ex­traordinary agitations, made me resent the happinesse which (unknowne) was betided me. And doth then (my deare Diceus) the King our Master live? and hath that good Angell, which hath rescu'd him out of so many dangers, been of power to raise him againe? There needed no such great miracle (repli'd Diceus.) It must be so (said Al­cippus) or else all that happen'd in the Isle of Astramadan was meerly inchantment [Page 291] and illusion. I saw Diceus, I saw the place where the King fell downe dead among that great company of murderers which the traitor Astramadan had arm'd for his re­venge. I saw his bodie wounded in an hundred places, and his face disfigured with many a fearfull gash. I saw his armour strew'd about him all bloudy, and back'd to pieces. In a word, I saw all that could assure me he was dead. Nor did I see him alone. The cruell Tysiphone was a beholder, and after shee had satiated her fury on others, turn'd it on her selfe, that shee might not survive him, whom of all men had made her capable of love. Amintha saw him too, and the griefe shee took for his death would have lasted to this day, if the waves had not swallowed it up together with her bodie. But Diceus, I lose too much time to let thee know my errours. Tell me therefore by what miracle our good Master lives, or rather let me see him, let me speak with him, and be permitted once more to imbrace his knees. Diceus took him at his word, and would have led him to Polexander's lodging. But Alcippus staying him, Wee must (said hee) carrie our selves in this businesse with a great deale of discretion; and for mine owne part, I will leave them no place from dis-beguiling themselves, who ha­ving taken mee for another, have put into my hands the soveraigne authoritie of this Island. After he said thus much, he open'd a little doore, which was directly opposite to that by which they entred, and giving Diceus a little key, told him withall what use he should make of it. Diceus presently left him, and after he had gone through a long gallerie, came into a chamber adorn'd and shining with gold and azure. From thence he went out through a doore which hee open'd with the key the Arch-priest had given him, and then coming into a Cloister, he knew where he was. Presently he hastned to his Masters lodging, and finding him accompanied with those that were wont to wait on him, intreated him, since hee had been much troubled all day, that he would watch no longer. Polexander ghessing well at Diceus intention went to bed. And as soon as hee was laid, his attendants withdrew, and Diceus (who usually lay at his Masters beds feet) shutting first the doores, made him a full repetition of his discourse with Alcippus. But (said hee) to the end you may advise together of the meanes you are to use to get out of this Isle, and attaine to that of Alcidiana, 'tis fit you keep your selfe still disguis'd, and that you and Alcippus meet not together but in private. Some two houres hence I will conduct you by passages not much frequented, to a chamber, the key whereof he hath given me, and where hee will be as soon as the last prayers are ended. In the meane time sleep. For my part, I will watch, for feare you faile in your assignation. Ah! friend (repli'd Polexander) I should have but little curiositie, or to say better, but a small portion of reason, if being on the point of ma­king my happinesse certaine, I were able to close mine eyes. No, no, Diceus, I will not sleep. Tell me therefore once againe all that Alcippus said to thee, and omitting the death of the extravagant Tysiphone, recount particularly what thou hast heard concerning Amintha. Diceus obey'd the command, but 'twas not so well done, but that he left the King his Master doubtfull what was become of that Lady. When hee had ended this relation, I have (said hee to Polexander) some advice to give you, on which depends all the successe of your labours and inquiries. 'Tis, that you expresly command Alcippus to compresse his affection, and keep more then ever that gravitie which he put on with the Priesthood. By this meanes he shall secure your life, for he may secretly take out the ball whereon your name is written, since he keeps the vessell whereinto all the fatall balls are throwne: and besides, when Alcidiana's Embassadors arrive, under the qualitie of Arch-Prelate, and Interpreter of the Deitie's will, he may invent some specious pretext, that may oblige the Embassadors to waft you to the In­accessible Island. But when will that fatall moment betide (cri'd Polexander, trans­ported with the power of his imagination) wherein I may see againe that blessed a­bode, which hath conceal'd and kept it selfe so long away from mine inquisition? O fairest Alcidiana! be pleas'd to let me taste the happinesse which my hope gives mee of re-visiting you; and that losing with my despaire the memorie of my afflictions, I may inure my selfe by little and little to those raptures, and almost incomprehensible blessednesse, which are inseparably annex'd to the condition of such as serve you. Po­lexander would have stuck as ravish'd with these sweet meditations, if Diceus had not [Page 292] interrupted them, and told him, 'twas time to goe meet Alcippus. Polexander there­upon in all haste clad himselfe, follow'd his guide, went through the Cloister, and un­seen of any bodie came to the chamber where he was to meet Alcippus. He fail'd not; and presently that worthy Favourite, casting himselfe at the feet of the King his Ma­ster, Let Heaven (said hee) doe now what it will with mee, I aske it no more, since I have the happinesse of seeing my good Master againe. O errour! which hast made me shed so many teares, I thank thee for so happily deceiving me. Polexander taking up Alcippus, Remember (said he) who you are, and in what place; goe not on in these superfluous testimonies both for your selfe and to me, but without losing in needlesse demonstrations of love, this time which may be better spent, give mee an accompt of all you have done since your departure from the Island of Astramadan, and chiefly let me know what is become of Amintha. But I feare much, that you can relate to mee nothing of her that can be welcome newes; for if I call to mind well what you writ in a Cave which is at the point of a rock which they call the Hermits rock, you were separated from her by the wrack of your ship. What sayes your Majestie (repli'd Alcippus) and what Demon could bring you to that rock? I was brought thither (said the King) by an adventure the most strange and happy in the world: for my ship be­ing sunk, I had perish'd but for that rock, which to mee was a very favourable haven. There I spent two dayes and two nights, and read my Epitaph which you had ingra­ven. But put mee out of trouble, and tell mee, how you were forc'd to forsake Amin­tha. Alcippus beginning his relation at Tysiphone's taking a resolution to follow Po­lexander to the Isle of Astramadan, and having continued it with all that which had passed in that Isle: As soon (said he) as we saw that desperate woman dead, Amintha and my selfe return'd to your Vessell, and being not able to speak, so much had your losse quell'd us, that we spent the rest of the day not knowing what to resolve on. At last Amintha starting up, and speaking suddenly, No (said shee) I will not leave the bodie of Polexander to the mercie of his murderers. With that shee went forth, and never telling mee what shee intended to doe, commanded some of your Mariners to carry her back on shore. I went into the Shallop with her, but we had not row'd scarce halfe a mile, when we saw all the beach cover'd with armed men. Our Mariners there­at fell hard to their oares, and having told us, that there was no reason for us to put our selves into the hands of those barbarous people, got back againe to your ship. Pre­sently there came out of the haven two Vessels of the enemy, and had had we not with all speed gotten into open sea, infallibly wee had run the hazzard of losing life or li­bertie. The wind (which favour'd us much) meeting a ship so good of saile as was yours, had quickly made our pursuers lose sight of us. Two dayes and two nights we sail'd we knew not whither. The third day we discover'd an Island, and there our Ma­riners cast anchor, to take some refreshment, and from thence to steere right for the Canaries. Amintha in all the voyage had no other thought then of your death, and from time to time speaking loud enough to be heard, Ah! too superstitious Queen, (said she) how lately wilt thou repent thy selfe, for preferring false beseemlinesse be­fore loyall affection? Well, thou art now rid of this cause of thy disquiet; but I feare for thy peace, lest those disturbances be redoubled when thou comest to understand in what manner thou art delivered from them. Thus was she talking, when I adver­tis'd her that we were arriv'd at an unknowne Island. You may doe what you please, said she. For mine owne part, I am resolv'd to think on nothing but how I may grieve enough for the losse we have sustain'd. Seeing her so constant to her affliction, I ima­gined, that if there remain'd in you any knowledge or feeling after death, you would accuse mee for the most ingratefull amongst men, if I had not a particular care of a person to whom your memorie was so infinitely deare. I resolv'd therefore to bring her to the Canaries, and put her in possession of all the treasure you had left there, that so shee might end her life in the same splendour shee was borne, and have no cause to repent her of the affection shee had borne you. As soon as our Mariners had provided themselves of all that was necessary, they set saile againe, and leaving the South be­hind them, bore up full North. From the very first day were we beaten by a furious tempest, and throwne so farre out of our course, that our Pilot confess'd that he knew [Page 293] none of those places where the wind drove us. This storme lasted foure dayes, and the fifth day, some Sailers advertising me that the ship would not be long above water, I caus'd a Shallop to be launch'd to save Amintha, and straight went into her cabin, where finding her at her ordinary exercise of weeping and lamenting for you, I be­sought her even by your selfe that she think on her safetie. If Polexander (said shee) were alive, or rather if he could make you know his thoughts, you would soon see and confesse, that he disapproves of that petition which you make me. He lov'd mee too well, to suffer mee linger too long in miserie; and that which you desire from mee hath no other end, but the continuation of my afflictions. The King my Master (I re­pli'd) commanded me to serve you as himselfe; and if he were in that extremitie you are now, my dutie and affection would oblige mee to doe for his preservation that which I now doe for yours. Therefore (Madam) contest no more against what is just, and be not guilty of your owne death. At last, shee yeelded to mine intreaties, and coming to the ships side, I know not how (said she) without astonishment, you should imagine me to be more safe in a little shallop, then in this great ship. I told her the reason, but whilst she disputed with mee, a gust of wind blew mee over-boord, and by an incredible good fortune, in falling over, I met with the rope wherewithall the shal­lop was fastned to the ship. In that extremitie I lost not my judgement, but cast my selfe into the shallop. Surely the rope was not good, for it presently broke, and the wind in a moment had carried me so far from the ship, that I lost sight of her, whether it were (as I beleeve) that she was sunk, or, as it is not impossible, that the tempest had driven her a contrary course to mine. All the rest of the day was I sometimes in hea­ven, and sometimes in hell; and when it came neere to Sun-setting, my shallop rent it selfe in peeces against the Hermits rock. When having no other hope then in mine armes, I strove to get to one of the points; and I swome so happily, that without hurt­ing my selfe (among so great a number of rocks which lay even with the water) I got to a little tongue of land, or rather of sand, which thrust it selfe a pretty way into the sea. There I met with the Hermit which surely gave name to that rock, and found him busied in digging a pit in the sand. Hee was no way at all surpriz'd at mine arri­vall. But on the contrary, leaving his work, and coming to me with open armes, Thou art welcome (said he) my son, and cast from thy memorie all things which thou canst imagine may afflict thee; for either mine art absolutely is false, or thou do'st not only go on in a progression of happiness, but in a way of saving the life of that person whom thou holdst most dear of all those in the world. With that he imbrac'd me; and begin­ning again, For your sake (said he) I must leave off my work till another time. Father (said I) if it be a work that is of necessitie to be done, give me your spade, and I will ease you of the paine of perfecting this grave. So you shall (said he, smiling) but there's no haste. Hee that is to take up his last habitation in this grave, will be coming yet some few dayes. This talk, so unconformable to ordinary discourse, made mee think the Hermit had lost his judgement with his yeares, or that I had not understanding enough to conceive the sense of his mysterious talking. The good man then took me by the hand, and told me, I needed to rest my selfe. Ascending therefore (himselfe first) by a little way cut out of the rock, wee came to the entry of the same grotto, where you found the letters ingraven by mine hand. The good Hermit made mee unclothe my selfe, and having given me some cotton clothes to wipe mee, threw a robe about my shoulders like his owne. And as soon as I was clad, Son (said hee) our bodies are not as some imagine them, enemies, to be used with all kind of rigour. They are ves­sells worthy the treasure they inclose, and you must beleeve they are very deare to the Power which created them, since he hath left there as in gage the greatest of all his mi­racles. This being so, wee are to have a particular care of them, and to conferre what they require, since it most certaine, that they desire nothing but what is necessary. To verifie this document, hee presented mee a corken cup, full of cleare water, and dri'd dates in an earthen platter. I eat and drank more to obey him then for any need I had, and after we had watched very late, I took possession of one of the two beds of mosse which you saw in the Cave. At day-break the old man awak'd me, and bringing me to the top of the grot, and turning my face to the Sun, which appear'd not yet, but [Page 294] by the severall colours where withall he painted the clouds: My son (said he) let us ren­der thankes to that Deitie which inhabits in that light, which wee may call another Deitie, since by his perpetuall course and wonderfull revolutions, he preserves our being, and drawes us out of darknesse. After he had spoke thus, he fell to his prayers, and I to mine, without observing a superstition, which in mine opinion, favour'd somewhat of Idolatrie. When wee had ended our Oraisons, wee went downe to the sea, which was much calm'd during the night, and there the good Hermit having throwne some sho­vell-fulls of sand out of the grave which hee had begun; I resemble (said hee) that im­mortall Bird, which delights in building her owne tomb, because shee knowes, that the last moment of her life is the first of her resurrection. It may be you heeded it not, my son, therefore I am the more willing to tell you, that 'twas for my selfe I digg'd this grave. 'Tis long agone since Heaven promis'd mee your arrivall, and assured mee, that a man of extraordinary vertue, driven by a tempest, should come and close the eyes of my feeble age, and succeed in a place which I have preferr'd before the government of men, and the rule of one of the greatest Empires of Asia. The knowledge I had of mens ingratitude, and of the injustice where withall they are wont to requite the pains, watchings and cares of those great Genius's, on whom most Kings disburthen them­selves of the government of their Estates, made me forsake a glorious slaverie, a torture that had the face and magnificence of a tyrant, and in a word, a misfortune envied by all ignorant fooles. I rather chose to spend my dayes in a secure solitude, and in speculati­ons, which from the top of this rock, carrying me up to heaven, have made me decypher those great golden characters, whereby we understand all that passeth on earth. I have read in the book what is to come, such things as other men are ignorant of. I know the revolution of Empires. I have seen Kings, who after their conquests have been constrain'd to crouch under the weight of irons, and weare out their miserable dayes in a shamefull slaverie. I have seen such slaves, as have been condemn'd to the most base and infamous drudgeries, to break their chaines, and force to submit to their Empire those who had been accustomed to bring others in subjection. But to what purpose should I entertaine you with these generall notions? Let it suffice me to let you know, that the end of my dayes is at hand, and that you are a while to possesse that place which I have neere these threescore yeares enjoyed. By that meanes you shall attaine to the greatest dignitie this day on earth; and shall see the accomplishment of those things which you have most desired. Assure your selfe on my word, and presse me not to unfold my selfe more plainly. After the wise Hermit had spoke thus to mee, hee wash'd his face and hands with sea-water, and ascending againe into his grot, made a small repast of foure or five dry dates, and a cup of water. I took as much as he, and be­ing desirous to heare him discourse: Father (said I) if those ambitious soules, who di­sturb the peace of all Nations, to glut their insatiable appetites, could once compre­hend, that a man might be happy with a few dates and water, would not be even de­sperate to see how miserably wretched they are in the possessing of such treasures as they run to teare out of the very entrailes of unknowne worlds? Oh! how truly doe I know it now to be true which hath been so often told me, that he only is rich, not who possesseth much, but that can be contented with little! My son (repli'd the Hermit) that Eternall providence, which could compose a harmony out of things seeming the most discordant, would, that from the varietie of parts in the Universe, should be pro­duc'd the beautie of all. The ambitious have their share in the imbellishment. If they throw downe on one side, they build on the other; if they ruine their Competitors, they enrich their Confederates: and their designes, which have never an end, are as so many engines, whereof that Providence makes use to move the massie bodie of the world, and hinder, by frequent shoggings and agitations, that it fall not into a mor­tall lethargie. Peace and immutabilitie is plac'd in heaven; action and change are the lots of the earth. So see wee that the soules which inhabit heaven live in a perpetuall tranquillitie, and find themselves so full satisfi'd with their condition, that they know not so much as the use of desiring. We on the contrary, who lead an unquiet and tu­multuous life, continually run after novelties. Our friendship and hatred follow, and destroy one another. Every houre workes us to severall and differing wishes; and our [Page 295] minds, which seek for a beatitude which they will never meet withall, and yet eter­nally hope for, are perswaded, that there is no other way left them to attaine to it, but by incessantly passing from one condition to another. If heaven had treated us as it hath done the Demons, and placed us presently in the aboad of true felicitie, [...] would have given us quiet minds, and understanding capable of obedience. But thinking it fit onely to propose to us that happinesse, as a goale, whereto it was impossible to at­taine without much straining, and a haven not to be anchored in, but through many tempests: it hath made us stirring, lively, impatient, and ambitious, to the end, that these severall thoughts might be as so many spurs to egge us on to that race; and as so many mufflers, which blinding our eyes from all dangers, might make us incapable of weighing them, and by consequence, void of all feare. What doth not that insolent, dangerous, and rash fever of the soule, which we call Valour, produce? To what extre­mities doth not that other ingage us (with delight) which we call Love? Have not all ages seen, (and doth not ours yet behold) men, who to satisfie their owne passion, and if I dare call it so, heavenly madnesse, expose themselves to hazzards, and condemne their bodies to such punishments, as the greatest and cruellest tyrants of the world would not without horrour have made them undergoe? yet they indure it with a great deale of alacr [...]ie, they suffer it with a benediction; and because their thought finds there its element, they deem to find there, and no where else their felicitie. It seems, the Understanding loseth something of its own in its errours; and that Reason, which should be a light for the guidance of man, is altogether extinguish'd, or shines not, but as those wandring fires which lead passengers out of their way, and in stead of being the meanes to avoid all precipices, have no other light but such as may dazle their eyes, for feare they should eschew them. But (my son) you ought to know, that the good which proceeds from this folly, recompenceth with usurie the ill it procureth. If you aske me, Who incited the first of men to defend the weak, and to become the extir­pers of Monsters and Tyrants? I will answer you, 'twas Love. Love inflames the soule farre more then bloud, fills it with the desire of honour; and purging it of all it had contracted of base and terrestriall by the contagion of the body, purifies and lifts it to that supreme perfection whereto it is destinated. Was it not Love who drew out of the Island (where may be he had languish'd all his life) that Prince who fills all the world with the renown of his actions? Is it not he, that hath led him through all parts of the world to avenge the oppressed, to punish the oppressors, to bring vertue into re­spect that had been long neglected, and to banish thence vice, which had gotten tem­ples and sectaries? How many Kings hath he re-establish'd in their thrones? How ma­ny usurpers hath he expell'd? Consider well his life, and you will acknowledge, that if it had not been accompanied with troubles, with desires, and (to say all in a word) with Love, it had been no more profitable, nor much more illustrious, then that of the most cowardly and obscurest man breathing. All that you relate to mee, father (said I) is most true, (knowing well he meant your Majestie) but what availes it now that great personage to have runne so many dangers, and to have so often expos'd his life for the safety of others? He is dead, as one of the vulgar, and of so lamentable a death, that it is hardly spoken of. You will say that his fame, which lives in the memories of most men, is an entire and perfect recompence for all the travells he under-went. Oh! father, did he now live, hee would truly let you know the vanitie of that reward; and make you confesse, that Love and Honour are certainly two of those Inchanters which promise pearles and diamonds, but give us onely a few oaken leaves and acornes. My sonne, repli'd the Hermit, Ignorance is alwaies unjust, but it is not alwaies criminall, and is not so principally, when it is accompanied with a deale of affection. Yours is of that nature, and therefore I condemne it not. But know, that the man whom you bewaile, is not in case to deserve it. Neither Love nor Death shall ever rob him of the felicities are due to him. I dare say, he enjoyes them already; and though his troubles have been great, his recompence shall be farre more. But let us break off this dis­course, since I have not so long time to live that I should bestow any part of it on any other save my selfe. In this sort having ended our conversation, the holy man intrea­ted me to goe and finish the grave he had begun, and leave him a while alone, to pre­pare [Page 296] himselfe seriously for the great voyage he was to make. I obay'd him, and was a­bove an houre in digging. That done, I ascended againe up to the Cave, and found the good Hermit laid on his bed of mosse. I came neere, to give him an accompt of my labour, but he was not in case to receive it. He lifted his eyes and hands towards hea­ven, and seem'd to be so transported thither already, that he remembred no more any thing that was earthly. I took him by the hand, all amaz'd to see him in that estate; and demanded what he ailed, and what I might doe to comfort him. But he answer'd not. I then thought him to be extremely sick, and to get him out of his swoune, began to stirre him. By little and little his judgement return'd, and presently knowing mee, Oh! my son (said he) out of what a trouble have you brought me? I saw the habitati­on of the Blessed all open. My soule ravish'd to quit this clog of earth which hinders her flying thither, did her utmost endeavour to be absolutely disburthened of it. But as she complain'd for seeing all her industry bootlesse, a voice call'd mee by my name: Beware (said it) that thou break not those ligaments which hold thy bodie bound to thy soule. Thou wantest one thing, without which it is forbidden thee to enter into this place of all delights. The voice flying into aire, I call'd a long time to intreat it to instruct me what it was I wanted for my felicity. But I re-claim'd in vaine. It would not deliver me out of the torment whereinto it had throwne me; and I was in such an­guish of mind as is not to be imagined, when your calling brought mee out of so strange a dreame, or rather so wonderfull a transportation of the spirit. No sooner had the holy man recounted to mee his vision, but I imagined that heaven desirous to bestow on him that reward it hath promised to all good men, had wrought a miracle in the moment of his departure, that so by the knowledge of that verity which had never been spoken to him, he might attaine the beatitude propos'd for the salary of its beliefe. Hereupon I told him, it was reveal'd me from heaven what was wanting for his gaining that true happinesse, and afterwards, as fully as I could in so short a time, made knowne the mysteries and fundamentalls of what we beleeve. After which that learned man, who all his life time had made profession of the most solid and rationall parts of Philosophy, witnessed so great a submission, and gave so great a credence to such mysteries, as being infinitely elevated above all reason, must needs justle with his, and cleane overcoming it, hee demanded to be perfected by lavation, which I perfor­med; and had no sooner done, but he (with an hearty ejaculation and instant prayer) sunk downe by mee, and testifi'd, that the death of a good man is a true peace, and a pleasing sleep. I confesse, I wept at so great a losse, and you were not the onely man whom I was bound to bewaile. I watch'd him till next day, and as soon as the Sun a­rose, carried him to the place chosen by himselfe for his interment. His funerals ended, I resolv'd to take possession of his Hermitage for the remainder of my life. But know­ing not where to draw the water, or get the dates whereon hee liv'd, I determin'd to dye with that absolute resignation and religious constancy which the holy man had taught me. Yet was I not reduc'd to that extremity, for eight dayes after the Hermits death, I saw a little Barque arrive at my rock guided by two Negro's. They descri'd me on the top of the rock, and the distance hindring them from any certaine know­ledge, they surely took mee for my predecessour. By their shouts they made shew of their joy, and brought on shore eight or ten barrells of fresh water, and some six little chests of dates. As soon as those things were unshipp'd, the Black-Moores cri'd out a­gaine, as 'twere to take their leaves, and so return'd, without any curiositie of visiting me. After I had long meditated on somewhat that was not very likely, I imagin'd, that the late Hermit being not desirous to be seen by any man, had given order to such as were to furnish him with his ordinary pittance, to land what they brought at the foot of the rock, and so to returne without troubling him in his solitude. How ere it was, I remain'd there three moneths, living according to the incouragement which the life and death of the holy Hermit gave me and receiv'd such things as were neces­sary for me from the hands of the same Negro's. And I grew then so well accustom'd to that manner of life, that the most pleasing things of the world pass'd not through my memory, but as objects of commiseration and contempt, and I thought on no­thing but how to dye well, when a great ship, whose sailes were of purple and gold, [Page 297] shew'd her selfe one morning some miles off my rock. I confesse to you, that object did not almost a jot move mee, and I wished often, that they who were in that proud Vessell, fearing to fall on my rock, would turne their sailes another way. But I had not my desire satisfied. On the contrary, the tall ship came with full sailes within a mile of my rock, and casting anchor there, for feare of the shelves and the crags, I per­ceiv'd five or six men which descended into a great boat, and then with an extreme swiftnesse came right to the rock. There they landed, and presently came up to my Cave. My haire was so exceedingly growne since my living there, that I had not much lesse then I have now: and besides, being growne gray, as you know it did begin to be so from mine age of five and twenty, I seem'd to be above threescore and ten, though I was not five and forty. Those men, certainly taking me for my Predecessour, cast themselves at my feet, imbrac'd my knees, aske mee pardon for troubling my retired quiet by their coming, and having protested, that they had not done it but by an ex­presse command from heaven, besought mee to accept the dignitie of its Arch-priest, which it selfe came (if they might say so) to offer him by their mouthes. I answer'd them, that men had their understanding too dull to conceive that which came from above; for it hapned often, that the Oracles and the advertisements from thence were ill expounded, and by such a mistake, men did cleane contrary to what was expected from their obedience. Assure your selves therefore, that you are fallen into that mis­chance, and you have not well understood the words of your Deity. Have recourse to him againe, and beseech him, that hee will vouchsafe to be the Interpreter of his owne Oracles, and leave me to finish on this rock the pennance which I owe for the sins of my youth. The most remarkable of the company, speaking then for all: You strive in vaine (said hee) to resist the voice of Heaven which calls you. Those inconveniencies which you propose to make us alter our intention, are so many reasons to confirme us in it. Humility is the true signe of the soules sanctity; and yours, which strives to les­sen you even to nothing, in lieu of making us quit the opinion wee have of your life, reacheth us, that it is more miraculous then we have heard it related. To this answer I repli'd with a little earnestnesse, to shew my heart spoke by my tongue. But remem­bring at last, that the holy man had often charged mee, not to resist such occasions as Heaven should proffer for my retirement from my solitude, I yeelded to the requests of those strangers. Yet before I went so farre, I am (said I) ready to obey, since the command, which is brought by you, deprives me of mine owne free-will, and forbids my thinking on any other thing then the service of heaven. Tell me therefore to what imployment I am destin'd. He who spoke last, beginning againe, after all his compa­nions were risen up, You must be pleas'd, said he, (to give you a full light into all you desire to know) that I begin my discourse from the establishment of those ceremonies whereof Heaven hath appointed you the chiefe Orderer and Dispenser. Know, that some seventy leagues from this rock there lies an Island, which is not frequented but by such as adore the Creatour of all, under the image of the fairest of his creatures, I would say under the figure of the Sun. Six of the greatest Kings that rule on the Ni­ger, that of the Kingdome of Manicongo, the mighty Monarch of the Abissines, and the Prince (favour'd by Heaven) which raignes in the Inaccessible Island, are the princi­pall which have continued in the adoration of that Deitie. Every yeare they send to the famous Temple, which their Predecessors built, offerings truly worthy their royall piety; and acknowledging, though they be Kings, that they are nothing but a little dust in the sight of the supreme Majestie, present to that Excellence part of their trea­sures, as so many severall tributes, which subjects owe to their Soveraigne. Within this seven or eight hundred years that those Princes have continually inrich'd our Tem­ple, it is so replenish'd with gold and jewells, that if it were not preserv'd by a particu­lar miracle, it had long ere this time been the prey of Pirates, or of such Kings which search and rifle land and sea to satiate their prodigious avarice. Nor are wee onely to feare such strange Pilferers, but we are to doubt of those who by our suffrages are call'd to the soveraigne Priesthood, and by consequence, to the ordering of those dangerous riches. Those who liv'd before us have been so happy in the election of their chiefe Pre­lates, that if we except one, who would have turn'd his Priesthood into tyrannie, and [Page 298] worne a Crowne in stead of a Mitre, there hath not been knowne any, who with a great deale of innocencie dispenc'd not the treasures of our Deitie. It is now five moneths since the great Uranias, who had fitten on the Sacerdotall throne neer thirty yeares, left us with the grief of his losse, the sorrow for not being able to find him a successour. Many of our Clergy were propos'd; but the ignorance of some, and the si­centiousnesse of others excluded them: and wee did not beleeve, that the dignity of Arch-priest had the vertue of conferring learning and honesty on such as had none be­fore. In the meane time, for want of a head, the members began to languish, and we saw plainly, that if disorders were not stopp'd by a speedy election, the Temple would be profan'd, and the treasure abandon'd to the covetousnes of an Usurper. Hereupon we entred the second time into the place appointed for so important a choice, and came out againe without agreeing on it. In this necessity we had recourse to extraordinary helps. We made publick processions, we redoubled our oraisons, wee added ashes and sackcloth to our prayers, our fastings and sacrifices, and begg'd from heaven to chuse it selfe an agreeable Sacrificator. After we had spent a full moneth (day and night) in these actions of pietie, Benycirac, the eldest of the Priests, forcing himselfe from the incommodities which detain'd him in his bed, came one day to us in the Temple, and I sweare (said he) by the sanctity of this place, and what we worship here, that I will speak nothing but what hath been reveal'd to me from above. The last night, whilst I prayed, and with teares besought for an end of our contestations, in the nominating us an Head, I heard a voice which said, Leave afflicting thy selfe, I have heard thy petiti­on, and those of thy companions. Your requests are heard, and if you persevere, you shall quickly have a Soveraigne, the most pious man that ever ascended the throne of the chiefe Priesthood. Right against this Realme, which is round ingirt, either by the sea, or the river Niger, ariseth in the midst of the waves a high rock, which for this many years hath been the aboad of the most religious man which my rayes inlightens. 'Tis hee that must succeed Uranias. But hasten, lest you lose the occasion. As soone as Benycirac had told us his revelation, we began the unbloudy sacrifice, to begge for some visible signe, whereby wee might be confirm'd in what the Priest had propos'd to us. What we desir'd we obtain'd, and presently concluding that wee were to come hither, wee cas'd the sacred Vessell to be made ready. My selfe and my companions were chosen to make all knowne to you. We have had a very happy voyage, and should be ingratefull, if we doe not render continuall thanks for our good successe, and publick­ly confesse, that it is an assured presage of our felicitie in your Priesthood. Therefore wee come to beseech you by your owne zeale, and the honour of him that sent us, to accept of the charge whereof you are thought worthy, and to restore to our Temple and Altars the respect which Ambition and Impiety would have robb'd them of. Let us on then (said I) my brethren and friends, and forgetting (all of us) our owne in­terests, labour for the glory of our great Master. That very day I took leave of mine Hermitage, and the blessed Ghost of the holy Hermit, and imbarquing my selfe in the Vessell of the Sun, happily arriv'd in this Island. Here was I receiv'd by all the Clergy as some great Saint, and install'd with a great deale of ceremony in the dignity of So­veraigne Sacrificator. Since I exercis'd this charge, I have seen the catalogue of all the Princes and Nations which have used to visit the Temple of the Sun, and noting that the Princes of the Inaccessible Island came hither to celebrate the sacrifice of Alliance, whereof we have spoken; I not onely more lamented then ever your losse, but I let my selfe fall into mutterings and speeches injurious to that Providence. But it hath (out of pitie and infinite wisdome) subverted them, and rendring me that blisse which I thought utterly lost, ingaged me to convert my griefes and lamentations into thanksgivings. Alter Alcippus had thus ended his discourse, he humbly besought his Master to let him know how he fell into the hands of the King of Gheneoa. Diceus (said Polexander) will at leasure informe you of all that. The businesse is now, to take order how I must hereafter demeane my selfe in this Island. Alcippus having confirm'd him in all that Pisander had related touching the arrivall of Alcidiana's ship, and made known the fa­cility of sending to that Princesse for his being inroll'd in the number of her Slaves, in­treated he would not discover himselfe to any, but expect with patience the houre of [Page 299] his good fortune. Polexander approving Alcippus advice, retir'd to his chamber as privately as he came thence. When he was laid, instead of sleeping, he began to muse on the contentment he was to receive at his up-rising. But, as if his memorie had been jealous of his satisfaction, though it was but imaginary, it represented to him Alcidia­na's anger, farre greater and more mortall then it was; and bringing him to meditate on that bloudy Declaration she had publish'd against his life, made him conceive, that he could not without disobeying her dare to set foot on the Inaccessible Island. With that thought, crying out, as if hee had indeed committed some execrable crime. Let me perish (said hee) since Alcidiana commands it; nor let me by any subterfuge dis­pense with the necessitie of dying, since the Lawes of this Temple ingage mee to it. Throw in againe, Alcippus, throw in againe the ball to the vessell of death, and doe not betray thy conscience for the sparing of a life which I cannot lose too soone, since Alcidiana will not have it last any longer. But may be thou wilt say, You but little know that Princesses intention. Those things which she hath made publick, are diffe­rent from those she retaines in private. Her thoughts are not altogether answerable to her words. You must interpret Alcidiana; by Alcidiana; and beleeve, that she hath not pronounc'd the sentence of death against you for any other end, then that she might have cause to make you sensible of her pitie. Amintha and Pallante have said, that you cannot doubt of Alcidiana's goodnesse, without obliging her to doubt of your fidelity. 'Tis true, Alcippus, I have infallible testimonies of that Princesses favour. If her Edicts affright me, her thoughts re-assure me; if I see my death in the one, I meet my life in the other. Let us therefore cast off all kind of settled will, and resting in a generall indifferencie (as to our selves) goe, and heare from the mouth of our Judge, whether we must live or die. With this resolution Polexander fell asleep, and it caus'd it so soundly, that the Sun was got far above the Hemisphere before he awak'd. Diceus, who durst not make any noise, was as long in bed too. But assoon as hee heard his Master stirre he arose, and came and drew his curtaine. Friend (said the Prince) wee doe ill observe the diligence prescrib'd us. If our superiours come to know what we are doing, and find us yet in bed, I doubt we shall receive sharp reprehensions from them. Your Majesty may give them leave to talk, repli'd Diceus, and laugh at the severity of a go­vernment, under which you are so little while to live. Thou sayest true, said Polexan­der smiling. Therefore help me up, and expose me not to a displeasure which I may avoid. Hee was no sooner clad, but the usuall cry obliged him to goe to the common Hall. There he found the King of Gheneoa's Embassadors, which came to take their leave, and to aske him in the name of their Master, whether hee were fully resolv'd to persevere in the service of the Sunne and Alcidiana. After Polexander had imbrac'd them all one after another, Relate (said he) to the King your Master, that I am more obliged to him then he can imagine, and ere it be long, I will send to give him thanks proportionable to the favours I have received. The Embassadors tooke their leaves with teares in their eyes, and went presently to imbark themselves with all the Pil­grims. Assoon as the guards of the Isle saw they were out of sight, the chiefe Priest with his Clergie and all the Slaves went to the Temple, to make their accustomed prayers for the good successe of the Pilgrims voyage. That day Alcippus had a long discourse with Polexander, and ingaged Diceus to related to him in particular the ad­ventures which had betided their Master since hee was left for dead in the Island of A­stramadan. Diceus forgot nothing in his relation, but gave Alcippus so many new causes of astonishment, that he could not chuse but cry out, O great Prince! by whose valour we see renewed againe the true age of the ancient Hero's; what thanks and Al­tars doest thou owe to the Power that hath rais'd thee so high above all other Princes? For a whole moneth intire, Polexander, Alcippus, and Diceus, did nothing every night but entertaine themselves with their adventures, and prepare for the happy day where­on Alcidiana's ship was to be descri'd on the coasts of the Island of the Sun. The very day they expected her, there was a great Vessell by them discover'd, which came steer­ing the course from Alcidiana's Island. The guards gave notice of it to the chiefe Priest, and after the wonted ceremonies done, they caus'd the ship to enter the Port. Those who were within her, confusedly got to shore, and thereby made the guard [Page 300] suspect somewhat. Yet their habit of Pilgrims re-assuring them, they brought them to the entry to the Temple. But by chance one of the Priests being there (and judg­ing by their wilde and curst looks, that they hid some wicked designe under their de­vout habit) had the curiositie to come neerer, and view them better. But his prying cost him his life, for those disguis'd theeves perceiving they were discover'd, inhumane­ly murdered the Priest, and presently casting off their robes, shew'd their armour. They were at least two hundred desperate fellowes, that resolv'd to dye, or to rob the Temple of its treasure. They fell furiously on the guard that would have stopp'd them, and left not one alive. The lesser Slaves of the Temple running to their suc­cour, fought a long while; but seeing themselves forc'd to give back, retir'd under the Portico of the Temple, with a resolution to dye ere they would forsake it. The fight was bloudy and furious. About an hundred of the theeves were slain in that skirmish, but above three hundred Slaves bore them company; and the rest dis-heartened, a­bandon'd the protection of the holy places and sacred treasure to the ravaging and pil­lage of those bloudy minded villaines. Presently then, the Arch-priest caus'd the il­lustriou [...] Slaves of the Sun to arme themselves, and desirous to make knowne Polexan­der's valour, commanded him aloud to goe and expose his life for the defence of their Altars. Our Heroe seeing himselfe remitted to his former true profession, went out of the Temple, and falling in among the theeves, made them feele the power of his arme. As many blowes as he strook, so many men laid he dead at his feet. The most obstinate to fight recoil'd before him; and finding themselves brought to stand on their defence, lost all the great hopes they had long conceived. The Prince seeing them stagger, pierc'd in among the troop, and so drove them furiously to the Sea side. Some were drown'd, others flying into their ship, were there burnt by the wilde-fire was throwne into her. This tumult being ended, the High-priest and his Clergie searched among the dead bodies to know whom they had lost. They found about five hundred, and amongst them, twenty of the noble Slaves, who following Polexander, had a great share in the glory of that day. The generous Pisander, who fought still at our Heroe's side, was slaine by the Captaine of the theeves, and by so glorious a death, sacrific'd his life to his Goddesse as well as to his Deitie, I would say to the Queen Al­cidiana, as well as to the Sun. Polexander much bewail'd the losse of so brave a man, and publickly testifi'd, that the Island was depriv'd of her principall defender. But all those who had either fought by our Heroe, or been lookers on, cri'd out, that to him alone belong'd that title; and that his invincible courage had (solely) preserv'd the Temple, the Priests, and the treasure of the Sun. Alcippus himselfe went and pluck'd a branch of Palme-tree, and making a crowne of it, plac'd it on Polexanders head. He call'd him the second Tutelar God of the Island, the Victorious, the Invincible, the Protector of their Altars; and bringing him into the Temple, as it were in triumph, there, with all his Clergie, rendred thanks to the Sunne, and hung over the Altar high our Heroe's bloudy sword.

THE LAST TESTIMONY OF LOVE WHICH HELIOPHILUS BEARES TO HIS KINGS AND COUNTREY.

[Page 321] WHen this Kingdome shall be raised to the supreme point of all prosperitie, by a precipitated death, it shall be expos'd to the rage of mindes most ambitious. The deaths of the first rebels shall no way terrifie the second. Bloudy examples shall but stirre up the treason; and that unfortunate age shall produce such monsters, who to satiate their brutishnesse, will lay waste their countrey with fire and sword, and shall be so base as to enter into confederary with meere strangers. Me thinkes I al­ready see those Usurpers appeare on our coasts; they are within our ports; they have besieg'd thee miserable Eliza, and keep thee captivated: stay thy furie, unmercifull Na­tion; thrust not thy boudy weapon into the throat of the innocent. But behold, I see a Slave come out of the bottome of Africa, who already having vanquish'd many nations, arrives here to exterminate both the rebels and usurpers. Courage brave Prince, thy Inheritrix shall be preserv'd at the instant of her ruine. But thou young Princesse, oppose not the felicities Heaven reserves for thee: force thy deceiving opi­nions; in this occasion take thy selfe to be thine owne enemie; and since thy happi­nesse cannot be perfected unlesse thou become the glorious reward of the fatall Slave's travels: sacrifice thy aversions, thy desires[?], and thine own will, to the safetie of thy Countrey. 'Tis a businesse resolv'd in heaven, thou must swallow this potion, which hath no bitternesse but whilst thou refusest it; on then, and let not thy brave heart faile thee at need; taste those sweets thy vertues have deserv'd. O new age of gold! O Island truly fortunate! O Slave worthy the regall throne! O Princesse happily de­ceived! O glorious alliance! O illustrious posteritie!

In all likelihood, Alcidiana at the reading of this Prophesie might have receiv'd some contentment; but she renew'd her sighings, and unable any longer to refraine from tears, even let them fall down on the Prophesie in such an excesse, as if she had be­leev'd she could with the Characters have drown'd all the misfortunes they seem'd to threaten her. Rhadiotez seeing her discontent, spoke all he thought fitting to quiet her afflicted minde; but Alcidiana not induring his discourse, Retire father (said she) and assure your selfe, that I have not so little profited in your schoole, but that I know well how we must die when we can live no longer, but with dishonour. I was borne free, and you propose to me something worse then death, when you propound I am not to live but by making my selfe the slave of a Slave. Rhadiotez willing to give the Princesse time to advise with her selfe, and more seriously to meditate on the Pro­phesie, return'd to his palace; and Alcidiana seeing her self then at libertie, began again her lamentations, and turning to her confident, Come Amintha (said she) am I not now at last arriv'd at that utmost point of misfortune, which long since, my visions, my dis­rests, and melancholy foretold me? O cruell Fate! certainly thou too tyrrannically abusest that soveraigne power which is given thee from above on us poore mortalls: What wilt thou shall become of me? But doe what thou list; my good or ill shall not depend on thee: the command I have over my selfe is no lesse absolute then thine; I will keep it in spight of all thy violence; and since death hath depriv'd me of all that could make me in love with life; 'tis in vaine by the object of greatnesse and felicities to bustle with my resolution and tempt my courage. Cast thine eyes on me, deare and worthy subject of my sorrow, turne thine eyes on me, and upbraid me of falshood, if thou read'st in my soule any motion that counsels me to forsake thee for another. The Princesse's confident seeing her teares and sighes had taken away her power of speech; Polexander (said she to her) is worthy of these testimonies of love you bestow on his memorie; and, Madam, he having lov'd you, what said I, lov'd? having ador'd you as he hath done, I doubt not, but amidst all the pleasures which inviron him, hee resents your displeasures, and seeing you afflicted, is even pensive and sad in the very source of all happinesse. Ah deare Amintha, cry'd the Queene, how doe thy words pierce me, and mournfully re-imprint in my memorie, the remembrance of my folly and ingra­titude! She could not speake further, for word was brought her, the multitude was round about the palace, and threatned to breake the gates if they were not let in. All conspires against us Amintha (said she to her confident,) but let us resist to the last, and at least shew that faire soule which lookes on us from heaven, that we abandon not his [Page 322] party though it be to the weakest. With that she went out on a great Terrasse which ran along the first court of her palace, and commanded the gates to be opened. Pre­sently the people rush'd in headlong, but at sight of the Princesse whom they never look'd on without respect and wonder, they rain'd in their fury and fell all on their knees. Alcidiana, seeing them in such a reverence, commanded them to stand up and declare the cause of the tumult: the multitude after their wonted manner, speaking in confusion, began to cry out, that the Deliverer which had beene promis'd the State even from Heaven, was at the towne gate, and they besought the Queen's permission to goe meet him, to see him, and petition him for an end of their present calamities. Alcidiana, unable to indure the continuation of their discourse; How, my subjects (said she all inraged) you doe not thinke of me then otherwise then as of an enemie, or at least as of one without power? What, doe you expect from a wretched stranger, what you hope not from my vigilancie, from my forces, nor your owne courage? who is the seducer that hath impoison'd your minds with a prediction as idle as it is intri­cate? You see at hand the safetie my care hath acquir'd you, and yet you tread under­foot what is sensible to run after Chimera's and meer leasings. Assure your selves, the date of your misfortune is pass'd; the revolt is buried in the graves of the authors, and the strangers are no more in case to annoy us: have a little patience, and you shall soone see them shamefully quit our coasts, and carrie nothing of their crimes with them, but their griefe for committing them. The people repli'd, she promis'd no happinesse but what was most certaine; but that she might not be unworthy of it, 'twas fitting the person should be honour'd who had wrought it. That reply absolutely angring the Queene, she withdrew without giving the people any contentment, and shutting her selfe up in her closet with Amintha onely; O ingratefull people (cry'd she) that have neither thought of me nor my predecessors! Reeds, shaken with all winds, minds ado­ring novelties, you are then wearie of my Government, and without the knowledge of what is beneficiall or hurtfull to you, desire a Slave for your King; and that Alci­diana, who would not bestow her chaines on Polexander, should offer her Crowne to Araxes! Here she was silent, and after a little musing, threw her selfe (weeping) on her confident's neck; And my poore Amintha (said she) see I pray thee with what eagernesse my misfortune pursues me, and thinke what I should resolve on to avoid the accomplishment of our dismall Prophesie: Doest thou imagine that Alcidiana hath so base a spirit as to preferre before death, a Slave who without doubt is come from among that barbarous nation which wretchedly inhabits the in-land deserts of Africa? No, no, let Fortune arme the whole universe, to force me to that necessitie; I will see my kingdome all of a flame, if my bloud cannot quench the fire, rather then undergoe the reproach of doing an act unworthy of Alcidiana. Amintha, desirous to intertaine the Queen in this just aversion; There is nothing (said she) but your Majestie is bound to suffer rather then the dangerous beliefe which is slid in among your subjects. Weak minds (as your Majestie knowes) are susceptible of all: we need but propose things to them beyond their understanding, to fill them with foolish admirations, and from those idle wondrings, carry them to beliefes more ridiculous and extravagant. If once your subjects strongly conceive that their fafetie depends on this Slave, and that you ought to be the sacrifice to be offer'd for their good; your forbiddings, how severe soever, shall never plucke that opinion out of them: I feare, lest at the upshot they come to violate the respect they owe you, and to avoid the falling into such misfortunes as threaten them, they cast your sacred person into the greatest that can betide you: pluck out this errour before it have taken too deep root, and suffer not this African Inchanter to bewitch the minds of your people, and forbid on paine of death, any man whatso­ever to have the least communication with him. I would willingly follow your advice (reply'd the Queene) but the love I beare to my subjects forbids me: What shall I do miserable wretch that I am? the sorrow for what is pass'd, the horror of the present, and the feare of what is to come, present themselves to my thoughts all at once, like so ma­ny monsters resolutely bent to be drunken with my bloud. I confesse Amintha, my Philosophy yeelds to my fortune, and my constancy leaving me, I float incertainly in my selfe, and know not what to resolve on: thinke on it for me (deare Amintha) and [Page 323] as a charitable Physitian imploy your judgement and remedies for the comforting of a Patient whose sicknesse is all in extremities. If your Majestie (reply'd Amintha) gets not from your selfe the remedie that may give ease to your maladie, doe not ex­pect that any which may come from without you, can render you your health. I am capable of all (repli'd Alcidiana sighing) excepting two things, which I finde alike im­possible; the one of comforting me for the losse I have suffered by mine owne indis­cretion, and the other of assuring my peace in hazarding that of my subjects. As shee had spoke thus, the Ladies which kept the dores of her sever'd lodgings, came and told [...] that Rhadiotez demanded audience, not onely for Amintas and his associates, but for Araxes deputies, to give her Majestie an account of his actions, and to know her resolution for that which remain'd unperfected. At this newes Alcidiana was extreamly perplexed; her anger forbad the hearing of her owne Embassadors, whom she thought had been wonne by Araxes, and those, whom the Slave had taken the boldnesse to send to her; on the other side, the love of her people overcoming all her resentments, represented to her, that to offend a person chosen for the safetie of the State, was to make a publike declaration that shee had sworne the destruction of it. After she had beene long without resolving what part she was to take, her affection carried her at last on that of her hatred; and shee told her Ushers, that within two hours she would be in the Hall of publike audience. Pre­sently, all the Officers had order to performe their severall charges, and the Ladies which made up her private Court, dressing themselves all in haste, assembled in the chamber where they were wont to attend at the like Ceremonies. Alcidiana, cover'd with a large vaile, (as if she would let them know, that during her subjects misery, she resolv'd to be in mourning) came out of her chamber, and so went with all her Ladies into that Hall (shining with gold and jewels) which we have already made admirable to our Readers. Assoone as she was plac'd in her Throne, the Officers of her Guard, went for the Embassadors: Rhadiotez and the high Chamberlaine, brought them to the audience, and coming to the foot of the Throne, one of Aminta's associates made an ample narration of all that which pass'd in their voyage to the Island of the Sunne, and offer'd her all the King of Gheneoa's presents. I erre, for the best was not there, since the victorious Araxes, kept backe by his wound, and the necessitie of affaires, was still in the Fort: and indeed, the Embassador making known that present was missing, turn'd to those whom Araxes had chosen for his owne particular, and giving them the place, Your Majestie (said he) may be pleas'd to understand from these what hath been done since our returne. Alcidiana, giving them leave to speake, one amongst them particularly recounted all that which Araxes had perform'd from the very day hee had devoted himselfe to the Queen's service; and ending his relation with the wound hee receiv'd at the taking of the Fort, presented her a Letter. Alcidiana was surpris'd at it, and blushing for anger, sate awhile so extreamly confused, that 'twas well perceiv'd, she deliberated with her selfe, whether she should receive or refuse the Letter: at last, the good Genius who had resolv'd Polexander's happinesse, forc'd the Queen's will, and wonne her (spight of her selfe) to extend her hand to receive that which she had look'd upon with horror. Yet had she no sooner touch'd the paper but she repented it, and to discharge her selfe of a burthen, which (as light as it was) seem'd to her insupportable, gave it to the chiefe of her Secretaries; Read (said she) this aloud, that my subjects may know, the love onely which I beare to them, makes me forget what I owe to my selfe. The superscription of the Letter was thus:

The Slave ARAXES to his Soveraign Princesse.

After he had read it, he open'd the Letter, and read what followeth:

THis is not the first time (Madam) that a Slave urg'd by an extream zeal for the glory of his Master; hath dar'd more then was permitted him by the Lawes of servitude: I confesse I am bold, but my boldnesse is justified by that Soveraign Law, which from the houre of my birth impos'd on me the necessity of not living but for your service. [Page 324] It commands me now to persevere, and not to laydowne armes till the name of your sacred Majestie be avenged for the wrongs of a barbarous nation, and your kingdome freed from all its enemies. Those that have been witnesses of my actions, will relate to your Majestie particularly what hath passed; I should feare to goe beyond that which is permitted me, if I tooke the boldnesse to propose what is to be done for the good of your service. You may vouchsafe (if you please) to send me your commands, and let me know what you have resolv'd touching the Spaniards; in the meane while, I submisly beseech you to beleeve that the Slave Araxes would repute himselfe unwor­thy the glorious chaines he weares, if he had not courage enough to promise his Sove­raigne Princesse, that within few dayes he will compell the Spaniards dishonourably to abandon such places where of their excessive pride had promis'd them the conquest.

After the reading of this Letter, there grew a deep silence through all the Hall; Al­cidiana look'd on Amintha, she againe on the Queene: So sometimes did Polexander write to me, said the Queene to her selfe: so (said Amintha presently) would Pole­xander have written to the Queen had he beene now alive. At last, the Princesse re­collecting her spirits, and repuls'd all other motions but those of her indignation; I should be an enemie to my people (said she to the Embassadors) if I thank'd him not that sent you, for all he hath done for this State; let him be assur'd, I will treat him as the King of Gheneoa's heire, and not as a Slave; and for the continuance of his pro­sperous successe in armes, I will goe adde our Prayers and Sacrifices to those troopes which I have appointed shall joyne with him. Every one being somewhat satisfi'd with this answer, the Embassadors withdrew; and the Queen presently freeing her self from all her attendants except Amintha, shut her selfe into her closet with that Lady. She was neither so indiscreet, nor so much an enemie to her selfe, to wish the feign'd Araxes ill for his coming so fortunately to deliver her from the furie of strangers: but the threatnings of the prediction fill'd her with horror, and when she came to think, that she was intended for the reward of the Slave's brave actions, her great heart ad­vis'd her to nothing but tragicall resolutions. Though she extreamly lov'd her people, yet could she not consent that they should grow happy at the cost of all her peace and contentment: I refuse not (said she) to purchase the ruine of their enemies with the price of my bloud; but from a Queene as I was born, to become the companion of a Slave, 'tis a condition, that no subjects how irrationall soever, should exact from their Soveraigne. Amintha, seeing her in this perplexitie, and being not much more mer­rier then she, rashly blam'd Fortune, for that which she should heartily have thank'd her: Ah! (said she) giddy-headed fancie, to whose will heaven seemes to have remit­ted the guidance of my fortunes; why takest thou pleasure in blending the good with ill, to beset roses with thornes, to ravish from us what we affect, and to work our safetie by the mediation of our enemies? Was not Polexander more worthy to serve Alci­diana, and to preserve her countrey, then a Slave bred in the sandy deserts of Africa? Who ingaged thee to murther the one in an Island almost unknowne, and to plucke the other out of his miserable lonelinesse, to triumph at once both over the pride of Spaine, and Alcidiana's libertie? The Princesse, here imposing her silence, We complain (said she) too much on Fortune, since it is in our owne power to deliver us from her tyrannie. Let's make use of our libertie whilst we have it, and not attend till it be ta­ken away by a Slave or a Spaniard: Let's die, Madam, repli'd Amintha, but let's not die till we know certainly 'twill not be permitted us to live any longer. What knowes your Majestie, but that this Slave may be indow'd with more wisdome then so many others whom Fortune hath rais'd out of the mire, and carried even to the skies? 'Tis possible, he will neither lose his judgement nor the remembrance of what he hath been, and unwilling to soil the fairnesse of his life with the impudent desire of enjoying you, content himselfe with the title of your peoples Deliverer. Alcidiana being a little re­vived at this, We shall (said she) shortly see (Amintha) what heaven hath resolv'd; in the meane while, (if it be possible) let's take a little rest, and not altogether despaire of our fortune. Herewith she betooke her to her bed, and Amintha withdrawing, left her a prey to all her troublesome thoughts. She vex'd her selfe as she was wont, as [Page 325] long as her eyes were open; the unfortunate Image of Polexander which appear'd so often to her troubled imagination, presented it selfe at her bed's feet, shew'd her his wounds, made knowne his love, and recounted all the accidents it had surpass'd, to make his fidelitie triumph over time, fortune, and her insensibilitie. With these thoughts she fell asleep, but she had scarce begunne her first slumber, when the same phantasme, shewing it selfe under all shapes that a dreame could present her, sometimes appear'd wounded, sometimes whole; now miserable, then happy; now a Slave, then a King: and Alcidiana thought her selfe a hundred times a prisoner, and as often deli­vered; as many times Araxes wife, and as many, Polexander's. The night thus passing away she awoke, and awaking, recommenc'd her ordinary exercises, to complaine on Fortune, to lament Polexander's death, and to bewaile the miseries of her people. Amintha hearing she was awake, came into her chamber, and plac'd her selfe at the beds-head to speake more privately. The Princesse who was yet affrighted with her dreames, turn'd towards her her eyes yet swolne with watching and teares, and look­ing as pale as if she had been ready to swound: Amintha (said she) I have spent a night which I can neither call good nor bad; poor Polexander's ghost hath continually haun­ted me: but I cannot represent to thee the horror and contentment which accompa­nied the apparition. I saw Polexander cover'd with wounds, loaden with chaines, wandering among fearfull solitudes; I heard him calll me to his aide, and having no­thing more in his mouth then the name of Alcidiana, intimated, that onely on my will depended either the continuance or end of his miseries. In that extremitie my love made me forget what I was; I ran to that miserable man's aide, and thought I could assuredly have redeem'd him from his disasters, when with a great clap of thun­der I saw the Slave Araxes fall at my feet amongst a great deale of bloud, and a number of dead careases: saine would I have fled, but I could not possibly. The Slave in the meane while lay at my feet, and having told me part of what I have seene in our dis­mall prediction, made use of all that eloquence hath both of cunning and beautie, to make me confident of his respect and loyaltie. He swore, that he had not taken the boldnesse to serve me, but that it was a necessitie impos'd on him by the decrees of heaven, and those of my beautie. You beleeve (Amintha) this discourse did not greatly please me; I look'd on the Slave with mine eyes full of disdaine, and straight turning away my head; Goe Wretch, said I, and know that Alcidiana is not capable of change. I wish it so, reply'd the Slave; No sooner had he spoken the word, but Polexander ap­pear'd to me, as brave and comely as the first time I saw him, and forcing his enemie to vanish, tooke me by the hand, and as 'twere in spight of me, lead me to the great Tem­ple in this city. Is not this dreame (altogether) very pleasing, and very terrible? and if the one way it displeaseth, doth it not on the other promise a great deale of con­tentment? Yes truly (repli'd Amintha) and I hope that at last the Chaos and intricacy of your fortunes disclosing themselves, and Heaven laying open what it hath conceal'd of that which is come; those things which we feare most, will have a happy successe. It may questioulesse be fortunate (repli'd the Queen) but not as you beleeve: Death only shall produce that felicitie, and by its mediation I shall gaine, what I could not obtain by any other meanes. If you search into, and meditate deeply on my dreame, you shall finde, that Polexander faire and lovely as he appear'd to me, is that Polexander which is above in heaven; and seeing me at the point to be sacrific'd to this ambitious Slave, pluck'd me out of his hands, and lead me to the Temple where my Ancestors are interred. But O happy soule! which in the fulnesse of thy beatitude hast a care of the unfortunate Alcidiana; assure thy selfe, she will willingly goe to the place whither thou wilt conduct her; and though that youth, and the love of our selves, seeme to op­pose the intent she hath of dying; yet in spight of those obstacles and resistances, she will let thee see, that thy consideration is more powerfull over her, then the most choicefull life can be showne her on earth. After this speech, the Princesse making shew of the greatnesse of her courage, seem'd lesse dejected, and lesse troubled then at first: she wept no more, her palenesse gave place to the cincture of the rose, which made her admir'd of all that beheld her, and her constancy treading under-foot all her disquiets, restor'd her (at least in shew) to that state of contentment wherein she had [Page 326] pass'd the two first yeares of her government. She presently arose, and spending a part of the morning, either in dressing her selfe, or in reading the intelligence she re­ceiv'd from divers parts, went afterward to the private oratory of her palace, to offer her life and crowne in sacrifice to the Deitie which had given her them both. A while after she went to her repast, and as she arose thence, Amintha told her, that Pallantus (cured of his wounds) was return'd from Arzilea, and humbly petition'd, he might have the honour to give her Majestie an account of his voyage: she granted it, and sent him word, she would speake with him towards the evening in the Phoenix garden. After dinner she went to councell; Rhadiotez as Chiefe-prelate was president, and as such propounding what was most important for the state of the present affaires, made the coming of Araxes, and the taking of the Spaniards Fort to passe for a miracle. But (said he) we must not neglect our good fortune, and by not knowing how to make good use of our advantages, suffer our enemies to render them unprofitable to us: whilst they are terrifi'd, 'tis fitting to keep them so as long as we can, and give them no leasure to recover from their astonishment. 'Tis true, Araxes is wounded, and as if his wound were the death of all our Souldiers, those in the fort, nay even these in this towne, are strucken with such a consternation and dismay, that we can hardly get them to their armes: but the best in this misfortune, is, that Araxes is but very slightly woun­ded, and this morning going to visit him, he had left his bed, if I had not intreated him in the Queen's name, not to hinder his recoverie in neglecting his wound. Besides the people murmure, because their Deliverer is not taken into the towne, but in contempt of the expresse will of Heaven, he is treated as an enemie, or at least as an indifferent person, whom they already looke on as their Prince and Redeemer. Alcidiana, at that word interrupting Rhadiotez, Had I not resolv'd (said shee) to suppresse all my resentments, and to be avenged on my selfe for my subjects ingrati­tude; I would complaine of their murmurings, of the connivence of Magi­strates, and the consent which all you that are here seeme to give to their ex­travagancies. What? will my subjects have mee goe meete the African Slave, and descending from my Throne to place him in it, despoile my selfe of mine owne qualitie to put on his? 'Tis not if there were question of their safetie, that I would make difficulty of dividing my Crowne, since I will never make any of abso­lute bestowing my life: but because I thinke my selfe not yet brought to that neces­sitie; if the misfortune of our affaires shall ingage me to it, be assur'd I shall demeane my selfe with all the love that a good Prince ought to have for his subjects; and will make appeare even by my death, that there is nothing so deare to me as the welfare of my subjects. This speech drawing teares from the eyes of all the auditors, they stood a while silent; at last Rhadiotez began, and intreating the Queene to live for the good of her people, and not intimate her love by such tragicall resolutions, lead her by de­grees to the businesses of warre. They settled principally on those of the sea; many spoke of preparing ships, and to have a fleet alwayes ready: but Rhadiotez alledging that the Fundamentall Lawes of the kingdome absolutely for bad navigation, and one­ly permitted three sailing ships in the whole Island; it was concluded on the powerfull considerations of the Chiefe-prelate, that the ancient Ordinances should be kept in­violably, and some other wayes to be used for the expulsion of the Spaniards. This Councell ended, the Queen retir'd to her chamber with Amintha and some other La­dies, and at Even went downe into the Phoenix garden. Assoone as she was gotten into a grove of Orange-trees, wherein there were alleys of five or six hundred paces long, and fountaines of falling waters from twenty to twenty paces, she call'd for Pal­lantus. The Lientenant over her Slaves went to receive him at one of the garden gates, and after he had imbrac'd him as the best of his friends, brought him to the Princesse. Assoone as she saw him afarre off, the bloud flew into her face, and straight growing pale againe, she was constrain'd to sit downe to conceale how much she was stirr'd. Pallantus loaden, or to speake more properly, adorn'd with his illustrious chaines, put one knee to the earth, and kiss'd the hemme of the Queen's garment. The Princesse to divert her transport, I understood of your returne (said she) and the accident which caus'd it; but those that made the recitall to me, were so ignorant of [Page 327] the particulars, that I shall be glad to heare them from your self. With that she arose, and after she had commanded all others to keep off, and call'd Amintha on her right hand, and Pallantus on the left, she walked some few paces without speaking a word; but then on the sudden coming out of her musings, she leant on Amintha, and calling Pallantus neerer who kept a little behind, Relate to me (said she) all that hath betided you since you left this Island, and forget nothing that may serve for a diversion to our spirits wearied with the time and its misfortunes. Pallantus, obeying the Queene, thus began the relation of his voyage: The very day on which your Majestie comman­ded me to depart, I imbark'd in that vessell which (to my honour) you bestowed on me, and was so fortunate, that the fifth day after, I landed in the Island of the Sunne: I satisfi'd your zeale by the celebration of those sacrifices which you commanded me; and acquitting my selfe of the vow I had made for the prosperitie of your raigne, I left that sacred Island to visit the principall Courts of Africa and Europe, and to cause that wondrous portraict to be there ador'd, which without doubt participates somwhat with the miracles of its originall. But a tempest tooke me in that long traverse of sea which is betweene the Island of the Sunne, and the kingdome of Senega; divers dayes was I in danger to be cast away, at last, committing my selfe to Fortune, I was desirous to see what shee was able to doe.' Shee was not ingratefull for my confidence, but brought me happily in to that Island, made famous even to the extremi­ties of the earth, by the valour of Bajazet; that Prince's reputation obliged me to dis­cover to him the treasure I was intrusted withall: but he had no sooner seen your Ma­jesties picture, then he cry'd out, that art was gone beyond all that nature could possi­bly produce. Iblam'd his incredulity, and told him, that art had been but a most im­perfect imitator of nature: My exclamation (reply'd Bajazet) is an effect of my asto­nishment, not of my misbeliefe. I make no question but Alcidiana is far fairer then this picture shewes her, and if to confirme me in this opinion, you had need of another witnesse then your selfe; there is a Prince in this Island that would not denie you his testimonie. A Prince (said I) and what Prince? Never any but Polexander had the happinesse of seeing Alcidiana. May be 'tis of him I speak, reply'd Bajazet; with that Polexander came and imbrac'd me, and kissing the chains I wore: Thou feest (said he) O happy Pallantus! the deplorable Polexander, whom fortune not onely declares un­worthy of re-seeing thy divine Princesse, but also of bearing the markes of her servi­tude. I answered him in such a fashion, that he perceiv'd well hee had offended you; and that the punishment of absence, was but a part of those to which you had co [...] ­demn'd him. Hereat, not able almost to refraine from teares, Tell me (said he) deare Pallantus the most cruellest of my destinie, and let me know what punishment Alci­diana's just anger reserves for my temeritie. I thereupon intimated the just causes your Majestie had to make him feele the effects of your choler, and after that declara­tion, shewed him the other, which you had made against his life: with a great deale of respect he read it, kiss'd it often, and made shew to me of a great deale of joy for his ill fortune, because it was your pleasure. I would presently have departed, but Baja­zet having run a hazard of being slaine by one of his pirates, I thought my selfe bound before I set saile, to see the successe of his wound: assoone as I was confident of his life, I tooke leave of Polexander and the Princes which accompanied him; he left me not till I was imbark'd, and when he saw he must needs leave me, Know (said he) my dear Pallantus, that my miserie is increased by the hopes which thou hast given me, and if ever thy good fortune bring thee backe againe to that blessed place where thy divine Princesse raignes; tell her, that thou hast left the wretched Polexander on the point of finishing by some new kind of death, the incredible torments which his absence inflicts upon him. 'Tis not that which you promis'd me (I reply'd) nor doe you expect that I speake of you to our great Queene, if you persevere not in the resolution of [...]ffering for her. I will doe it then (said Polexander) since 'tis for her glory, and husbanding my life in the extremity of my affliction, will not put in any hazard, but whilst I am forc'd to it by the desire of re-seeing the incomparable Alcidiana. After he had thus spoke, he imbrac'd me againe, and return'd where he was expected; in the meane time (dri­ven by a favourable gale) I sail'd along the coasts of Africa, and cast anchor in the port [Page 328] of Morocco. The Princes which raign'd there, entertained me with all manner of civilitie, which the name and picture of your Majestie imperiously exacts from the most barbarous minds. From thence I sail'd into Spaine, and came to Lisbone to make your portraict admir'd by all the Court of Portugall. After I had gotten you a great many adorers there, I tooke my course Northerly: I saw France, England, Scotland, and upon some newes brought me, as I was going out of that great gulf, which is com­monly called the Scottish sea, I sail'd into Denmarke, where I saw that famous Phe­lismond, whom your Majesties picture and indignation, have rais'd to the highest point of honour. At that word, Alcidiana interrupting him, said coldly, I think some body hath heretofore spoken to me of that rash man, but never made mention of him, with­out relating to me the advantages which Polexander got on him. 'Tis true Madam, (reply'd Pallantus) Polexander had the better of him in the combate he undertooke for your quarrell: but if that generous Prince may be beleeved, 'twas not his valour, but your Majesties anger, which conquered Phelismond. And indeed, since that time, that Prince by a thousand glorious actions hath made knowne to the world, that he sprung from the bravest bloud which ever formed Kings. It hath been told me, said the Queene, 'twas one of unknowne birth, on whom Fortune and the King of Den­mark's fantasticall humour, were desirous to practice all that they were able to produce. 'Tis truth Madam (answered Pallantus) that at first the King of Denmarke divided his authoritie with him, and not content to see him the second person in his kingdome, even before his death plac'd the Crowne on his head. But why deferre I so long time the giving your Majestie a contentment whereof you must be extreamly sensible? Be pleas'd Madam, to know, that Phelismond is your brother, Sonne of the great Alcidus your father, and of a Princesse, who but for her Uncles tyrannie, and the usurpation of an English Earle, had been seated on the Throne of England. At these unexpected and incredible newes, Alcidiana stood still, and earnestly regarding Pallantus, To what end (said she) tell you me these fables? What you say, cannot be, and put case it is so, how are you sure of it? I am so certaine of it reply'd Pallantus, that if this be not, there is nothing true in all the events which carry any thing of extraordinary with them. Thereupon he related the loves of Alcidus and Phelismonda, their flight into Scotland, the death of the wife, the affliction of the husband, the birth of Phelismond, the retreat of Thamiris into Denmark; and generally, all that we have written touch­ing the adventures of that admirable Favorite, and the love of the Danish Princesse. Next, he recounted, how Polexander being driven into a desolate Island, there met with that Princesse, and learnt from her the cause why she had abandon'd her fathers Kingdome. At last (said he) Helismena hearing of Phelismond's change, imbarked her selfe with the Embassadors that Prince had sent towards your Majestie, and had the happinesse that after two moneths saile, she safely came to Copenhagen. Assoone as Phelismond heard of it, he came not as a King, but as the Guardian of the royaltie to receive Helismena, and render her all the honour a subject owes to his Soveraigne. He declared, that he sate not in the Throne, but to preserve for her the place which her birth and the peoples votes had given her; and in case she were assail'd, to defend her against all aspirers and usurpers. Helismena answered these civilities, not with words, but with teares, sighes, swoundings: she was (without perceiving it) carried to the castle, and the Prince your brother despoiling himselfe absolutely of all tokens of royaltie, made divers declarations, to let the Danes understand, that he pretended to no other part in their State, then what an affectionate compatriot might lay claime to. But his generousnesse won nothing on the minde of Helismena, nor the opinion of the people; the more Phelismond strove to make himselfe a private man, the more was he settled in the regall authoritie. The Queene who liv'd not but by the sight of that amiable Prince, even besought him on her knees, to comply somewhat with the excesse of her love, and accept with her Crowne, the utmost proofes she could give him of her affe­ction. At last, Phelismond yeelded to Helismena's intreaties, and assuring her he ac­cepted not the title of King, but to gaine to himselfe the meanes of serving her, marri­ed her, with the consent and joy of all Denmarke. A few dayes after the wedding, I arriv'd at Copenhagen, and making my selfe knowne for one of your Majesties Slaves, [Page 329] I receiv'd such entertainment both from the King and Queen, that the greatest Kings of the world would have had cause to rest satisfied with it. So indeed, Madam, was it to prime Princesse of the universe that these honors were done; and I was considered as a person your Majesty design'd to make use of, to make you ador'd by all the world. The King and Queen of Denmark, keeping me there neere two moneths, I besought them for my convey. They granted it me, but very loathly, and loading me with Presents and Letters, intreated me to indeare them in the honour of your favour. Those were the terms they both used, to intimate to me the desire they had to be beloved of you. I left your picture with the Queen, sore against my will, for I intended never to leave it: but her intreaties, earnest s [...]ing, and if I dare speake all, pleasing violence, carried it at last, in spight of my obstinacie. Assoone as I was under saile, I comman­ded my pilot to touch at no place whatsoever, till we came to the Island of the Sunne, because I hop'd to find Linceus there, and by his meanes returne to your Majestie: but being gotten on this side the Canaries we met with a storme, which put us by our course, and when it was over, we were set on by two great men of warre. Long was our fight, and furious; my cannon suncke one of the enemies ships; the other came up close to mine and fir'd her, but some of my souldiers did the like to theirs. Upon this reciprocall firing we separated; the winde then and the combustible matter in our ships increasing the flame spight of all our labour to quench it, we saw one another pe­rishing by a new and fearfull kind of combat. I had given my selfe for dead (Madam) when the vincible Araxes came to my succour; and knowing I belong'd to your Ma­jestie, had such care of me, as it put among the number of the greatest testimonials he will ever shew you of his zeale. How now Pallantus! (said Alcidiana) you are then bewitch'd aswell as the rest, and by the attribute of Invincible which you have cunning­ly given the African Slave, you would have me beleeve, that there is no way to save my selfe but by his valour? Your Majestie may give me leave, if you please (reply'd Pal­lantus) to explaine my words, and to say, that my intention was not to tie your safetie to Araxes valour. But considering what he hath already done, and what he is resolv'd to doe, assoone as his wound will permit him to leave his chamber; let me take the boldnesse to tell your Majesty, that without doubt, you will owe to the great courage of that African, the ruine of your enemies, and the re-establishment of your authority. I am not of your opinion (reply'd the Queene angerly,) goe, and if you be yet Pal­lantus, have better thoughts. Pallantus much astonish'd, retir'd; and the Queene ta­king Amintha by the hand, continued her walke: they were in the garden till 'twas farre within night, and Polexander was the onely subject of their discourse. Alcidiana at last, having her minde farre more wearied then her body, withdrew; and kept her bed foure daye [...], to frame absolutely an intention of dying, in case shee saw her selfe constrain'd to take Araxes for her husband. On the evening of the fourth day Rha­diotez came to the palace, and making knowne he had businesse of importance to com­municate to the Queene, was brought to her bed-side: he told her, that Araxes being resolv'd to execute some great enterprise, it was thought fit to have publike Oraizons, and to get to the Temple to celebrate such sacrifices as were appointed on the like oc­casions. That he came to beseech her Majestie to approve of the Clergy's deliberation, and since she was obliged to be at that Ceremonie, as having with the royall Character that of the Soveraigne sacrificature, it would please her to make ready betime, and give that testimonie of love to the necessitie of her State. Alcidiana gave consent to his request, and calling for her dressing Ladies, told them what she would weare the next day. At breake of day she arose, and tooke on a robe of black silke, open before and on the sleeves, and to be clos'd with diamond buttons; her head dressing was not extraordinary; she put on a vaile of blacke tiffiny, border'd with pearles, and fast'ned with a little Crown of diamonds, which ended in a point on the top of her head. As­soone as she was attir'd, she went to the Temple of Wisdome, and parting thence with a most royall pomp, went to another, which her predecessors had caus'd to be built, and call'd it the Temple of divine assistance. The Ceremonie was long and faire, and all the people meeting there, shewed by their earnestnesse and offerings, that the time of calamity is truly the time of Heaven. Though the Priest-hood had for a while [Page 330] been separated from the royaltie, yet was it not so absolutely, but there remain'd some functions to the Kings. Therefore assoon as the Chief-Prelate had ended the accusto­med praiers, he presented a golden Censor to the Queen, and marching before her, went to the High Altar. Alcidiana kneeled down on the steps, and having a composition of perfumes on the burning coales, made a long praier for the diverting of heavens mena­ces, for the continuance of its favour to her Subjects, and subverting and driving thence their publique and bloody enemies, And lastly for the preservation of him which it had sent for their defence. After she had ended her praier, all the people confirm'd it by their acclamations and applauses, and so went out of the Temple blessing the Queen, and waited on her to the Palace, with such testimonies of affection as were farre beyond all that had preceeded. As she entred the second Court of her palace, Diceus who had plotted that action with his Master, presented himselfe, and humbly besought her to have pity on a Canarian who had lately escap'd out of the Spanish fleet. Alcidi­ana was so troubled and diverted, that shee took no heed to what the man said. But Amintha who attended her, thought she should know the Supplicant, and staid to look on him. Ah madam! (said Diceus) if the memorie of a personage whom you have somtimes affected, be yet deare to you, have compassion on that miserable estate whereto his losse hath reduc'd me. Amintha knowing Diceus by his voice better then by his countenance, and unable to suppresse that violent passion which she alwaies had in any thing concerning Polexander. How, Diceus, (cri'd shee) art thou yet alive? Arise and follow me. Alcidiana at Amyntha's noise turned her head, and saw the Lady talking to Diceus, but not imagining whom he might be, kept on her way and retir'd to her chamber; where she presently [...]eil on a Couch, and commanding all to withdraw, fell to her usuall reveries. An houre after she awoak and call'd Amintha. They told her she was gone. Let her be fetch'd hither (said she) and after that Com­mandement fell again into her former imaginations. Amintha came presently after, and approaching the Queen, your Majestie (said she) may be knowes not the man who this morning fell at your feet. The Queen answering that shee had not taken notice of him, 'Twas (said Amintha) that faithfull servant of Polexander who was only with him when he was murthered by Astramadans Subjects. He was about to tell me in what manner hee escaped after his Masters death, and by what accident hee arriv'd in this Island, when your Majestie vouchsafed the honour to send for mee. At these words, Alcidiana coming as it were out of a deep sleep, How (said she) is Di­ceus here? O you thou lov'st me, Amyntha, let me see him. The recitall he will make me of his Masters death will serve me for a great diversion. A sad and dismall diver­sion, replid' Amyntha. I doe not think Diceus can relate any thing more particularly to you then I have done. 'Tis all one (said the Queen) I shall be glad to see him, and hear the reproaches he will throw on me for the death of his Master. Hee hath been too well bred (repli'd Amintha) to take such libertie as shall not please you. I am in such an humour (said the Queen) that whatsoever he shall say, will not be able to dis­please me. Therefore without losing more time, let me see him. With that, Amin­tha making a low reverence went out of the chamber, and calling for a Squire, com­manded him to go call Diceus. The Squire obey'd the command, and Diceus pre­sently after entring the Queenes chamber, Amintha brought him where she lay, Al­cidiana trembled at his sight, and finding her selfe more troubled th [...]n she thought she could be; Alas! poor Diceus (said she) thy Master is then dead? Diceus continuing on his kneees though the Queen bad him arise; Madam, said he, my Master dy'd be­cause your Majestie thought his life was not worth the preserving. Neither his life nor death depended on my will repli'd the Queen. The will of your Majestie (said Diceus) hath alwayes had more power over him, then that soveraign law on which de­pends the destinie of all other men. It seemes then by what thou saiest (answered the Queen) that thou wouldst make me guiltie of thy Masters death. Heaven (said Diceus) who can make us immortall, was never accus'd (but by blasphemers) for confining the course of our life to so short a date: Nor hath the King my Master, (who alwaies look'd on you (though not as a Deity, (yet as its living image) otherwise then with a benediction, receiv'd the sentence of death you pronounc'd against him. And the last time [Page 331] he did me the honour to speake to me; Diceus (said he) let my death come when it will, I will take it for a speciall favour from heaven, since 'tis the onely thing i [...] left me, whereby I may witnesse my obedience to the greatest Queen in the world. Alas! (repli'd the Queen) how knew he that I bore so great a hatred to his life? Hee h [...]d read it (quoth Diceus) in the declaration which Pallantus shew'd him in the Pirates Island, but he read it more clearly in the effects of your anger; I mean by the warre which nature her-selfe had denounc'd against him, and by the ill successe of [...]ll the voyages he undertook, to have the happinesse of continuing to you the testimonialls of his most humble Servitude. I should condemne my Declaration (answered the Queen) though it were justly done, if it hastened the death of your Master. But 'twas his va­lour and not Alcidiana that slew him. Hee thought himselfe immortall as he was invin­cible; and judging of his enemies by himselfe, imagin'd there was none base enough to commit a murther. Hee had too much loved life, (said Diceus) or to speake better, he had been as he was, the superstitious observer of your commands, if he had thought on the preservation of a life which he knew pleas'd you not. He is dead Madam, and died the more happily since he was perswaded in dying, he should give you a strong and unquestionable proofe of the greatnesse of his love and obedience. These last words touch'd Alcidiana to the heart, so that spight of her selfe she sigh'd; and feeling her teares in her eies, turn'd her head towards Amintha, that her too lively resentment might not be perceiv'd. Assoon as her amorous teares were wip'd off, she beganne again, and would know of Diceus by what meanes he sav'd himselfe after the death of his Master. I will not relate to your Majestie (said he) for what cause the King my Master came to the Isle of Astramadan. Amintha was by when he was ingag'd to sight with him; and I doubt not but she hath entertain'd your Majestie with it. I will therefore content my selfe with the narration of the most strange and diversified Combate that ever was seen since weapons have been us'd. He related how Polexander had sent to defie Astramadan, with how many Knights he had to do, till he came to ha [...]die stroakes with the Gyant; in brief, all that which we have descri'd at large here­tofore. But when he came to that part wherein we spoke of Tisiphone's arrivall, and the firing of Astramadans City; I had (said he to the Queen) the honour that day to serve my Master in the place of his Squire; and to doe somewhat worthy my new quality; assoon as the Tyrants Guard assail'd the King, I fell in amongst them, and w [...]s so for­tunate, that I was beat down, cover'd with wounds before that multitude of murther­ers had overthrowne the greatest valour of the world: I was a great while ere I came to my selfe again; but at last recollecting my spirits, and seeing all our enemies laid all o're the field, I crawl'd to finde out the bodie of my Master. Me thought I heard him groan, and got to him, and disingaging him from under a many bodies, took off his cask and the rest of his armes: Assoon as he had taken aire, his senses came to him, but he was so weak, and so wounded, that he could not possibly rise. Presently I took some earth which was very soft, being all soak'd with blood, and stopping his greatest wounds with it, brought him to a little more strength. With much pain he arose; so did I; and helping one another, got out of that unfortunate place by the meanes of the tumult and fire. But how (said Amintha interrupting him) did not Polexander dye in the place of Combate? No Madam (repli'd Diceus) he escap'd that great danger, and should not be a languishing and wandring Ghost as he is now, if he had not receiv'd more dan­gerous wounds then those were given him in that detestable occasion. When I had lead him out of the town, and brought him to the Sea side; Whither shall we go, said he? Let's make an end of a thing that is so well forwarded; and since it is forbidden me by Alcidiana her selfe for ever to pretend to the happinesse of seeing her again; let us Di­ceus, let us shut up those eyes, which can serve mee in no stead but to make me see what a miserable man I am. 'Twas then (repli'd Alcidiana hastily) that Polexander died? Could he dye better Madam, (repli'd Diceus) then to dye not by the wounds [...]e had receiv'd from his murtherers, but of those as pleasing as deadly, which he receiv'd at the same time, both from your severe justice, and his incomparable fidelitie? 'Tis enough (said Alcidiana:) and in saying so, she would not conceale from Diceus the teares which griefe forc'd from her eyes. And he, unwilling to lose so faire an occasi­on [Page 332] to further his Masters affaires: O! too pretious teares to be lost (cri'd he) why have you not already rais'd again Polexander? Wheresoever his faire soule straies, she feeles your virtue, and I doubt it not but she will returne and joine againe with his bodie, if she could know for truth that 'twas their separation which had drawne you from the eyes of Alcidiana. Believe it Diceus, (said the Queen heartily sobbing) and assure thy selfe, that if the moi [...]y of my life could recall Polexanders, I would give it with all my heart. That Prince (Madam, repli'd Diceus) shall rise again since you will have it so; or rather he will dye once more, if he know 'tis for his sake that your Majestie is so much discontented. Alcidiana, unable to give any interpretation to Diceus last words, then what in all likelyhood they ought to have took them for a true, exaggeration of that love which Polexander yet preserv'd for her even in his Sepulchre. She then dismissed Diceus and told him she desir'd he would serve her. After he had given her humble thankes, and spent the rest of the day in the Palace or with Amintha, he secretly got out of the Towne assoon as it was night, and hastened to the King his Master. To him he related the happie successe of his journey, and made him so plainly see how much Alcidiana lov'd him, that Polexander fear'd to offend the Princesse, if he persever'd in in the ill opinion he had of his fortune. But presently feare, blotting out of his Soule that which hope had trac'd there: Thou deceiv'st us both, said he to Diceus. The love thou bear'st me hath assuredly made thee give a too favorable construction to the Queenes words. Didst thou not look on her angry eyes, as if they had been pitifull; or take that melancholy which appeares in the face of such as we importune, for the compassion thou wouldst faine perswade me to? Art thou certaine she wept? Didst thou surely heare her sigh? Canst thou secure me that my life shall not discontent her? Thou answerest not Diceus! Art thou (to my greater misfortune) better informed now, then when thou gavest me so great assurances? Sir (repli'd his faithfull Servant) your thoughts will never leave being ingenious in persecuting you: They eternally doubt the truth of all good which betides you; and the onely appearances of ill passe with them for most certain realties. Yes Sir, Alcidiana loves you, and I believe it, be­cause she repents the rigour she hath shewne you; because she bewailes your death; be­cause she respects any thing that puts her in mind of you; and finally, because Amin­tha hath often sworne to me, that the verie moment she heard newes of your death, shee made a vow to end her life in a rigorous kind of widow-hood. Ah! 'tis too much (Diceus) repli'd our Heroe, I now believe my selfe to be happie; but I must by some important service make my selfe worthie of being so. Presently he resolv'd to disturb that rest which his indisposition had lent his enemies, to hinder their going on, and by a generall assault to let them know that the winning of Eliza was very ill assur'd them. At breake of day, he was abroad in the Fort, and calling all the officers of the Armie together, to make them capable of a thing which till then he could not propose to any; Told them, there was newes come to him touching the Spaniards; and that they only expected to be assaulted, to gaine an honest pretext for forsaking the Towne, and to put themselves under saile. All the hardie Islanders beleev'd what he had spoken; and by what had pass'd judging of the future, thought that Araxes as inspired from the Dei­ty which had sent him, could undertake nothing but what he was assur'd of the succes. Every one therefore preparing himselfe for so daring an action, they sent Rhadiotez newes of it. He presently hastened to the Palace to informe the Queen, but perceiv­ing her to be in an extraordinarie insensibility for what so much concern'd her, he thought it fit to treat her as some sicke person, whose violent disease and the distaste of remedies had depriv'd of all desire of life. Hee caus'd all the best troopes in the Town to march forth, sent Artillerie to the Fort, and having almost all the day executed the charge of Generall of an Armie, imploy'd all the rest in the functions of his Priesthood. Orders was given for prayers, and the Temples were open all night long. Mothers carried thither their children, as innocent offerings they pretended to heaven to ap­pease its anger, and to obtaine out of pitie an end of their calamities. Polexander, in the mean while unwilling the enemie should know his designe, beate them all night with the Canon. The Peeces in the Barges, and on the Caus-way, shot continually, and hid by the thicknesse of the smoake those Troopes which march'd towards the [Page 333] Towne. At breake of day, two thousand men came before it. Twelve peeces of Ca­non which had been planted in the night began to beate their defences, and two Pe­tards were stucke by the incredible resolution of twentie determinate Soldiers on a gate that opened to the ditch. They did their effect, and presently those that were to fall on, got into the ditch with ladders, and though the most of them were lost; yet the rest wonne the gate, and there planted Alcidiana's rising Phenix. The feigned A­raxes sent fresh supplies to preserve what the first had gained, and himselfe leading the way, lodg'd them in the forc'd gate. But when he saw beyond it an intrenchment har­der to be carried then the ditch; he re-intrench'd himselfe against the Town, think­ing no other way better, then to keep what he had so well advanced. Presently he commanded the ditch to be fill'd with Bavines, to throw a bridge over, and to bring on ten or twelve Peeces to beate off the enemie. The fight lasted as long as day, and above twelve hundred men fell on the place. Whil'st this was doing in the lower town, there happened great disorders in the upper. A murmure and noise whose Author could not be knowne, gave an alarme to all the Inhabitants. All cri'd out that the Spaniards had receiv'd a mightie supply; that Araxes had the worst in his assault; that he had not won the Towne; and that all these miseries had their source from the Queenes retarding the execution of the Prophesie, and the expresse command of Pro­vidence. These murmures were seconded by menaces, and colour'd with so power­full reasons, that the Magistrates and Rhadiotez himselfe were forc'd to allow of the sedition. The Queene (said these Mutineers) who is certain in all extremitie, that a composition will bring her out of all that danger in which wee shall be inveloped, re­jects our prayers, and remonstrances; sees with a dry eye, the teares of so many Inno­cents which implore her goodnesse, and seemes to have destin'd for her ransome, our goods, our lives, and the honour of our wives. If the remedie which we propound to her for the common safety, were a remedie invented by our selves, she might have reason to contemne it, either as dangerous, or unprofitable. But being prescrib'd by heaven, and writ by the hand of the Author and preserver of all things; can she refuse it with­out an expresse testimoniall either of an extreame neglect of the Divinity, or as great a hatred against her Subjects? Rhadiotez, to appease them, promis'd to go to the Queene, and to let her know they were loyally intentioned. Wee will go with you, (cry'd the seditious) and if reason be not able enough to perswade the Queene, wee will bring number, and force to assist her. Rhadiotez, did all he could, to go without so many followers; yet thinking it not fitting to incense any further the furious mul­titude, he put himselfe in the front, and sent word of it to the Queene. When shee heard the newes, she was almost beside herselfe; but the extremitie of scorne and cho­ler, depriving her of sense and reason, she stood a while as immoveable. Amintha who was by her, intreated, she would force herselfe, and not give her enemies the contentment, to see that she contributed to her ruine as much as themselves; but that she would at last take on her a resolution worthie her birth and virtue. It is taken (re­pli'd the Queene with a setled countenance) it is taken Amintha. I will dye; and though my People be unthankfull, yet I will save them in expiring, As she spoke these words Rhadiotez entred her chamber, and though he had spoke nothing, yet did he sufficiently make knowne by his pace and countenance that he brought very ill newes. What father (said the Queene without any dismay) you come to tell me of my subjects rebellion, and to advise me to submit to what they demand. No such matter, (repli'd the Prelate) but I come from them to make an humble petition to your Majestie, and to beseech you by that goodnesse which is so naturall to you, and by that Soveraigne power which reignes in heaven, to take pity on a great number of weake and unarmed persons, who see themselves readie to be given in prey to the utmost furie of their mercilesse enemies. O! Let your Majestie be therefore pleased to harken to the cryes of so many mothers, and children, so many virgins, and widowes, old men, and fearfull; and to stop their complaints, imitate those good Princes, which have ountarily forgot themselves to thinke of nothing else but the preservation of their Subjects. From the eternall Justice we all hope that your Majestie shall not suf­fer by doing a good Act; and that the Prophesie which promiseth you so many bles­sings, [Page 334] if you can subdue your selfe, shall not be lesse true in this particular then in all the rest. With much adoe, Alcidiana (not making shew of her perplexitie) repli'd. Tell me then, what is't my subjects would have of me? That which the voice of heaven re­quires, (answered straight Rhadiotez.) Yes Father said the Queene, I will doe all that is commanded me, Long since the cryes of my people have gone through my cares to my heart. I am sensible of every ones particular miserie, and may say, that I alone suffer all that the fathers, and husbands suffer in severall. If to stoppe the current of o [...] common calamities, there needed but the parting with my crowne, I would be the first should take it off my head; and if (to it) there be required the losse of my li­bertie or life, I am readie to undergoe the one, and to lay down the other. After she had spoke thus, she gave Rhadiotez time to render her thankes in the name of her sub­jects. Hee be sought her, as he had petition'd already, to preserve her-selfe for them, not to shew the subject her affection by deliberations, which would be no otherwise then sad and mournfull unto them; and to believe, that on her life, and peace, neces­sarily depended their lives and tranquillity. See then (father, said the Queene) what is fitting for me to doe: But if any remainder of respect keeps me yet considerable, let me not be obliged to any thing that is unworthy of me. In the mean time return to those that sent you, relate my resolution, and wish them without clamour, and tu­mult to advise for their own safety. After this the good Prelate retir'd to the impa­tient and surious multitude; and making knowne what he had done with the Queen, got them to retreat, and expect till the next day the execution of the Princesse will. By his good words the mutineers (being thus calm'd) promis'd aloud, that if they were not forc'd to it by an extream necessity, they would not presse at all the accomplishment of the Prophesie. Night now shutting up every one within his owne doores, the upper Towne was all hush'd, but the lower was in an uproare. Polexander had lead many troopes into the enemies intrenchments, and had forc'd them as he had done the rest, if his soldiers gall'd with the Canon had not been forc'd to shelter themselves behinde the Gabions. Each partie was all night in armes, and continued their vollyes and skir­mishes till breake of day: When the Spaniards seeing themselves threatned by a re­volt of the Inhabitants in the lower towne, and fearing to be involved, resolv'd to drive Polexander from what he had fallen into. To that end, they planted on the top of their intrenchment five Cannons, which for three houres together never left shoot­ing. Foure Towers and a great Pavillion which made up the Entry Polexander had wonne, were beaten to dust; the place where he was lodg'd laid open, and many of his men buried under the ruines, or maimed with the slattering of the stones, or the walls r [...]ptures. The Spaniards were paid well backe againe: For our Heroē very ad­vant ageously planting his Canon, beat their houses about their cares, and ten Pieces charg'd with chayne-shot, being planted along the intrenchment, cut off all those that undertook to fall on Alcidiana's troopes. That whole day almost passing thus, a little before night they descry'd above an hundred saile on the Lake. The Inhabitants of the upper towne imagining them to be the supply which their enemies expected, were strucken with their former terrour, and ran out of their houses with terrible outcries, and extreame confusion. Some betooke them to their armes, others flew away from them. In this moment, the streets were so full, that men were readie to be stifled, and in the turne of a hand after they were all emptie, and no creature to be seen. The Market places, and Temples, filled withold men, women, and children, resounded with lamentations, and every where wandred the image of death, and despaire. See what 'tis (said they) to wrong the blessings of heaven, and to neglect the meanes of our safe­ty. Every man would have witness'd his respect and obsequiousnesse to the Queen, and every one confess'd that their respect and complaisancy had loft them. If yester­day the Queene had been forc'd to doe that which now they must be obliged to com­pell her, she might have been already freed from this violence, and the publik secur'd of the successe of a businesse which now may chance to have but an ill issue, because it was so long deserr'd. Whil'st one part of the people was talking thus, and the other gotten to the Palace gates, calling for the Queene, and threatning to take her thence, Rhadiotez and Amintha were with the Princesse, intreating her to beare with the [Page 335] infirmities of her subjects; to pardon their rashnesse, their indiscretion, their revolt; and to weigh, to how many other violences the extremitie of feare is able to hurrie weake minds. Alcidiana, appearing full of an extraordinarie Majestie: I intend not (said she) to deferre the contenting my people. Goe you father (said shee to Rhadio­tez) and tell them, that precisely at midnight I will depart my Palace and goe to the Temple of Wisdome. The good man, loath to debate more particularly with the Queene, for feare of offending her, caus'd the Palace gates to be opened, suffred all to enter that would, and publishing by a Herauld his Princesses will, went to prepare himselfe for an action, which his judgement aswell as his loyaltie assur'd him would be as glorious for his Queene, as advantageous for her Subjects; shee had not the same thoughts: For being retir'd into her closet, (onely with Amintha) sh o­pen'd a little Cabinet, and taking out a Poniard; See (said she without any emotion) that which shall disingage my word, and deliver me from all prepar'd Slavery. Yes Amintha, I will dye, but not till by the accompishment of the Prophesie, I have laid an eternall foundation for my peoples felicity. Thinke not to stay mine arme either by your teares, or remonstrances. If you have truly lov'd me, you will approve my reso­lution of being stil Mistris of my selfe. And if Polexanders memory doe any way touch you, you may be glad to see mee labour so couragiously for the preservation of that which hath been so dear unto him. Let us prepare our selves therefore seriously for the most important, and considerable of our actions. Let us on bravely to the end of our miseries. Leave wee not our fetters sadly, but believe that the life which wee ex­pect hereafter, is too glorious and of more blisse then to make any account of that which wee are likely to loose here. And thou deare Soule, which art readie to bee remitted to thy halfe-selfe, descend from thy everlasting abode, meet with Alcidiana, be present at the Sacrifices shee is at the point to offer, and judge by the last act of her life the intention of all those that have preceeded. After these words, she went to her Ladies, and carrying in her countenance a gaity, and extraordinarie calme, told them (smiling) that at last the day was come wherein shee was to submit her selfe to the power of a man. Let therefore (said shee) every one prepare her selfe for this solemnity; but with moderation, for too much magnificence, and rejoy­cing, will not be approv'd of such wretches as shalbe witnesses of this fatall action. Af­ter she declar'd by these words, in what manner she would have her Ladies, and Maides to be dress'd for the Ceremony, she attir'd herselfe as she was wont to be on the dayes consecrated to the memorie of the Kings her predecessors. Assoon as shee was free from this necessary amusement, she commanded that all those that were to attend her should be readie before midnight; and to that end dismissing all that were in her cham­ber, shee entred her closet with Amintha. That Lady extreamly afflicted for the Queenes resolution, began to look on her with such eyes as spoke enough that which her mouth durst not utter; and falling (at last) at her Mistris feet, was even there like to have taken her last gaspe. Alcidiana seeing her in that extremitie, rais'd her up; and after a many times kissing her: What (said she) is become of that brave spirit which hath so courageously brought you through rape, exile, imprisonment, and more insup­portable miseries? Whither is that Constancy fled, which hath withdrawne me many and many a time from those precipices which mine owne weakenesse hath hewen out? Whence is it, that Amintha is no more what she was, and why indeavours shee to dis­swade me from what she hath so often advis'd me? Is not a speedy death farre better then a languishing life? And where shall the miserable find comfort, but in shortnesse of their tortures? No, no Amintha, the resolution I have taken, is not such as you ima­gine it. It hath nothing of sad and dismall but in appearance. The interior is brave, pleasant, alluring, and delightfull. 'Tis true, I quit my Crowne, and quit it in the eighteenth yeare of my life; but to consider things aright, what is a Crowne? What is Youth? And if you will, what is Beauty? Surely nothing but so many extream subtile, and almost inevitable snares to draw us into mischiefe. I have liv'd long enough A­mintha, since (if selfe love deceive me not) I thinke I have reasonably well imploy'd all the moments of my life. But (if I may be permitted to speake more) I say, I have liv'd too long, since I have surviv'd Polexander. Amintha finding by the excesse of [Page 338] resentment, that speech which the same excesse had taken from her: Then (said shee) you are resolv'd to dye. That beautie, which heaven admires as its Master-piece, must even in its birth be the prey of steel and death: and that wonderfull wit which hath confounded the wisdome of the Ancient, and the subtilty of Philosophers, must now turne its weapons on it selfe; and meeting with nothing that can vanquish it, denoun­ceth a warre against it selfe, because it would not be still invincible. Come Polexan­der, come, and relieve Alcidiana, if there yet remaine any thing of thee. Imploy that power which men attribute to Soules freed from their bodies, in averting a blow whereat Nature it self trembles; and if the fear of being anothers then thine, puts the steele into thy Princesses hand, free the world from the cause of that apprehension. Alcidiana smiling at Amintha's exclamations, you (said she) shall be heard, for Po­lexander loves us too well to abandon us in this extremitie. The Princesse spoke truth unawares, for at the same instant when Amintha invok'd him to the ayde of Alcidi­ana he was mightily labouring the ruine of her enemies. Hee had discovered an an­cient Aqueduct under the ditch, by which in all likelyhood the water of a fountain in the upper towne was convey'd to the lower. But time had ruin'd part of the Vault, and buried the knowledge of it under the same earth which cover'd it. A Pioneer first discover'd this meanes to get into the towne, and secretly gave notice of it to Po­lexander, who presently going to se the Vault, made it be search'd, and understand­ing it went through the enemies intrenchments, attended patiently till the night were well come on to convey some companies that way, and so more easily worke his ends of the Spaniards. That which made him the more to hasten it, was the arrivall of the Fleet on the Lake, on the side of the upper towne. They had cast anchor a little be­fore night, and ranged themselves along the shore, no man knowing whether they were friends, or foes. The Inhabitants of Eliza who had never seen the like there, certainly beleev'd they were Spanish ships; and on that belief grounding their absolute ruine, hastened as much as in them lay the marriage of Alcidiana with Araxes, as the onely refuge they were to flye to in their calamities, and the last remedy they could get for them. Rhadiotez, whom they had not forsaken, and from whom at every moment they demanded with threatnings, the accomplishment of his promises, was compell'd to find out Araxes at the beg [...]ning of the night. He related to him at large the particulars of the fatall Prophesie, the Mutiny, and all the Elizians desires, and fi­nally, the Queenes last resolution. Polexander had not so ill a servant of Diceus, nor so little intelligence of that which pass'd at Court, but he knew alreadie part of what Rhadiotez had told him. Yet he made semblance to know nothing of it, and aggra­vating the incertainty of most predictions, condemn'd the Elizians proceedings, and above all, intreated the Chief-priest to go to the Queene, and beseech her in his name that shee would not so farre forget herselfe, as to share her Crowne, and life, with the most unknowne and miserable of men. Rhadiotez admir'd the virtue of our feigned Slave, and fixing on his last words told him, that his moderation, and the respect hee bore the Queene merited an infinite applause; and if time would give him leave, he would goe and fully make it knowne to the Queene, and free her from the remaines of aversion and feare. But (said he) the multitude, more urgent then time, will not admit of this delay. They are in armes at the gates of the towne, and the Palace, and if at the stroke of midnight they see you not in the Temple of wisdome; prepare your selfe for the most horrible spectacle, that the furie of a desperate multitude is able to bebloudy the Chronicle of their owne times withall, or affright all ensuing ages. Po­lexander answering the Prelate, that this disaster was to be prevented, and for him­selfe he was readie to obey; dismiss'd him with an assurance that he would march on with the first command he reciv'd from him or the Queene. Assoon as Rhadiotez was gone, Polexander retir'd with Diceus, related to him the state of his affaires, and shewing him a timidity which onely love could justifie, seem'd no lesse irrationall then the very multitude which he but newly condemned. But Diceus o're-throwing all his scruples, and nullifying all his difficulties, advis'd him to be present in all pompe at the glorious assignation, and by a happy deceit, terminate for ever his owne misfortunes and the Queenes discontents. Thou knowest Diceus (repli'd Polexnder) through how [Page 337] many tempests, and shipwracks I have sought for the haven thou shewest me, and would even have bought the sight of it with my bloud and life. Thou knowest whe­ther in these twenty dayes that I have been in the Inaccessible Island, my desires and actions have tended to any other end, then the advancing the happie moment wherein I was to be inlightned by that incomparable starre which hath so long time not vouch­safed to shine on me. Yet me thinkes, I know not what feare, which seems just to me, congeale [...] my bloud, slackens my longings, disavowes my former wishes, and accu­sing me to my selfe of subtilty, and treasons, threatens me with some new misfortune if I dare present my selfe before Alcidiana. 'Tis a suggestion (said Diceus) which the ill Angell of your quiet, throwes into you. Reject it boldly, and without losing time (which should be better imploy'd) in unprofitable deliberations, prepare your selfe to receive this night the Crowne of your travells; and perseverance. Polexander, van­quished by a perswasion which so pleasingly flattered his inclination, resolv'd to obey his servant. But before he would leave the lower towne, he reinforc'd his guards, sur­vey'd th [...] places he had wonne, dispos'd of all things in such sort that hee doubted not but at his returne to put his great designe in execution; and left the command of the troups to Alcidiana's Lievtenant Generall. The orders given, he went to the Fort, and shutting himself into his chamber, was there clad, according to Diceus intention more then his owne. A very rich suite he put on, with the chaines given him by the King of Ghenoa, and was forc'd to weare the long p [...]ple cloak, imbrodered with gold, and pearles which hee had presented him from the Priests of the Sun, as their Prince and Defender. But he had no sooner put it on, but his Guard came and told him that a­bove two thousand men were in armes on the Counter-scarfe of the Moate, and inti­mated a great desire to see him. Let's goe to them (said he) turning to Diceus, and make our prayers to Love, and Fortune, for our good successe. With that he went out of the Fort to meet the Inhabitants of Eliza: Hee chid them, but very wisely, for the violence they offered their Princesse, and in the very instant assuring them, that in foure and twentie houres the Island should be rid of the Spaniards; made them breake out into such loud and reiterated showtes of joy, that they were heard in the Temple whi­ther Alcidiana was to come. Assoon as she heard it strike midnight she arose from a bed whereon she had all alone entertain'd her-selfe, and forbidding Amintha the con­tinuance of her teares, and lamentations: 'Tis at this time (said she to her) that it shall be seen whether Alcidiana, and Philosophie, have not too much presum'd of themselves. In the mean while, advertise Diceus of my resolution, that he may be in the Temple, for I desire he should be present at the last act of my life, and that the same eyes which were witnesses of Polexanders death, may be so of Alcidiana's. Amintha repli'd, that for two dayes she had been so perplext, that she did not so much as think of him whom she spoke of. I thought so, said the generous Queene, and therefore I would quicken your memorie of him. Cause the man to be found out, and forsake him not when I shall be no more in case to assist him. At those words Amintha began to weep again; but Alcidiana intimating she desired other proofs of her affection, absolutely forbad her to be sorrowfull, and presently taking up her poniard, put it under her robe, with such an indifferencie, and coldnesse, as were worthy to be consider'd as somthing more heroick then all the height of magnanimity. Amintha was ravish'd with wonder at it, and from thence only conjecturing of unlikely prosperities, suddenly lost the terrour of what was to be executed, and even solicited the Queen to hasten to the Temple of Wis­dome as fast as she could. The Princesse noted this alteration without making shew of it, and coming out of her Closet found all her Ladies ready; but all rather drest for a funerall then a marriage. Alcidiana would not make known that she took any notice of it, and went into her chambers of Ceremonie, where all the chief officers of her house and Rhadiotez were assembl'd. They presented themselves before her with such counte­nances, as made it well seen there was nothing of good to be expected of that voyage. Every man appear'd thoughtfull, and melancholy, and though Alcidiana excited every one by her gayety, none was able to suppresse his sorrow. Assoon as the Queene had given the word, they began to march, and the people who waited for her at the Palace ga [...]es, receiv'd her with acclamations, and applanses, which had I know not what more [Page 338] of sadnesse, then their wonted congratulations, and rejoicings. The Queene went on foot from the Palace to the Temple, and assoon as she was entred, retir'd into a Chap­pell, from whence shee usually came when shee was obliged to take the Censor, and perform some act of Soveraign Sacrificer. The Temple shone again with gold and lights, and the Scaffold on which stood the Princesses throns, was inviron'd with so many cry­stall Candlesticks, that when she was seated on it, the Spectators took her for a Goddesse, which was not so well hid, but that she let sparkle through the vaile she had on, some rayes of her Divinity. Presently after Polexander, clad as I have describ'd, came to the temple. Diceus bore up the train of his royal robe, and four black slaves part of his chains. No sooner had the peoples showt given notice of his coming, but the crowd separated, and the Queens guard made away from the principal gate of the Temple, to the Queens throne. From as far off as she saw him she cast down her eies, and leaning on one of the arms of her chair, began in good ernest to contest with flesh and bloud, and call'd to her aid all the faculties of her soul. In the mean while, not only the people, but the Court cast their eies on the pretended slave, and as he advanc'd, a kind of humming noise witness'd the admiration, or impatience of the Spectators. The Ladies above all had their eies fix'd on him, and even those which look'd on with an aversion, could not chuse but speak of him with astonishment. They all confess'd, they never saw a more admirable personage, and said, it was incredible that Africa, nay, Africa the most monstrous, could produce so compleat a creature. His stature, countenance, sweetnesse, majestie, his head, his eyes; in briefe, all that they saw of him bely'd the common report, and made strange re­volutions in the passions of most of the Ladies. Amintha her selfe, who had made a vow not to look on Araxes, had not power to refraine, but assoon as she heard the ge­nerall admiration, desir'd to have part in the contentment, and cast her eyes on the feigned Slave with so much curiosity, that infallibly she had knowne him, but for the infinite number of lights, which reflecting their lustre on all parts, depriv'd her of the meanes of well regarding him. The old Stenelica calling to mind her last love, and the pleasure shee took in his being pleasant with her, no sooner saw him, but shee knew who 'twas. Her eyes, though weakned by her cares, getting heat from her heart, and im­pressions from love, those spirits of fire which inlighten the sight, were more penetra­ble, then those of younger bodies. 'Tis Polexander, (said shee to her selfe) 'tis he; and I believe it so certainly, that could I come neare the Queene, I would tell her of the treason is wrought against her. Whil'st that Lady thought thus, our Heroë came to the foot of the Princesse Scaffold, and there stood firme. Alcidiana for feare of see­ing him, kept her eyes fix'd on the people, and commanding them silence: At last (said she) all things are come to the point you have wished them. I intreat that Eternall Providence under whose beliefe you are come hither, that you may have rightly inter­preted the Oracle, and that by virtue of the Act whereto your only interests ingage me, you may be avenged of these strangers cruelties, free this Isle for ever from all re­volts, and desolations of warre, and so powerfully reestablish the rule of Peace, and Justice, that your posterity may hold the present miseries but for fables, or at least for prodigies. What hinders then the accomplishment of the Prophesie? Why doth not the Arch-priest performe his charge? And who hinders the African Slave from receiving the reward which heaven hath allotted him for the redemption, and safety of you all. At that word, all the assistants began to cry out, that the State was preserved, the stran­gers defeated, Alcidiana was victorious, and common happinesse secur'd. Rhadiotez attended with all his officers, came near the feigned Araxes, and intreated he would a­scend the Queens Scaffold with him. Our Heroe did so, but assoone as hee was mounted, he humbly besought her to give him Audience. And assoon as she had gran­ted it, he plac'd himselfe so, that he had his face alike turn'd to her, and to the people, on one knee he kneel'd, on the last degree to the throne, and addressing himselfe to the Princesse, thus bespoke her. I doe not wonder (Madam) that this Assembly shewes so little resentment of the good it receives from the excesse of your goodnesse: It is so great, that farre from being sensible of it, they are not capable of the conception; and I, who strive to imprint it in others, finde i [...] so farre beyond beliefe, that I can hard­ly give credit to it my selfe. Truly, that which your Majestie hath resolv'd on for the [Page 339] preservation of your estate, is infinitly above all the examples of love, and magnani­mity; and succeeding times will look on it, as a fiction invented by this age, to over-whelme with shame, or despaire, all such as are to lend a hand to the helme of the worlds government. That the glorious Alcidiana should tread under foot (I must say so) her birth, her greatnesse, her renowne, her beauty; that to divert and hinder the affliction of her people, she should voluntarily make her self the most miserable of all women, and give her selfe up to the mercie of one of those monsters bred in the de­serts of Africa; 'Tis an abasement; (Madam) 'tis an humilation; 'Tis such a prodigi­ous nothinging of your selfe, that your Majestie would doe farre lesse for your people, if you laid downe your life for their preservation. The notice I take of this wonder, confounds my ambition, in lieu of satisfying it; and forbids me to aspire to what in all the world is to be most ardently long'd for. But suppose this rigorous and powerfull necessity, which compells you to lessen your selfe to nothing, should use all its severity, and command to make me goe beyond that which is permitted me; I should be farre (Madam) from conforming my selfe either to the votes of the people, the seeming de­sire of your Majestie, or the very decree of Fate. Should I act it, I were Ignoble, a Traitor, and a Villaine. For I am neither Araxes, a slave, nor an African. I am Ma­dam the unfortunate and rash Stranger—at that word Polexander was forc'd to stop, for in the instant such a horrible cry arose at the gate of the Temple, that our Heroe thought the Spaniards had surpris'd the upper towne, and came with fire and sword to destroy it. The Ceremonies were interrupted by it, the hopes of all the Assembly a­like confounded, the Temple fill'd with howlings, and confusion, and in a thought a­bandon'd, not onely of the people, but the Priests and the Queene her selfe. Polex­ander, having throwne off his long robe, broke his chaines, and drawne his sword, hast­ed out of the Temple, and presently saw a fire, which flying over the lower towne walls, seem'd as if it would wholely consume it. Presently he made to the Fort, and from thence to the seeming-inflamed towne; but he perceiv'd the flame came from a­nother place, and straight knew 'twas part of the Spanish fleet, which were set on fire by some fire ships thrust in amongst them. Straight he sent Diceus to carry this good newes to the Queene, and to assure her that he was going to finish what fortune had be­gunne. It held more then he promis'd her; for by the helpe of a great tmult which he heard in the lower towne, hee got slide some troopes into the enemies intrenchments, and finding them forsaken, instead of making use of the Aqueduct, he entred the town, by the way which was offred him. In the instant he had newes that the Inhabitants had taken arms against their tyrants. To sencod their resolution, he caus'd to resound again every where the word Libertie, and the name of Alcidiana; and strove to cut the enemies their passage for regaining their ships. They were intrench'd on a tongue of land, which thrust it selfe out beyond the fortifications of the towne, and whil'st one part of them made good their ground, the rest stole along the tongue of land, and hastened to their ships. Polexander perceiv'd their drift, and very loath the Strangers should vaunt they had uncorrected laid waste part of the Inaccessible Island, imbark'd two thousand men in his owne vessells, and got with them the back part of the reintrenchment. 'Twas there, where I may say the skirmish was hottest. Night added her horror to warre, and seem'd to bring on more furie to the Combatants. Day broke in the height of the skirmish; and Polexander then meeting the Prince of Sidonia, vow'd to dye, or to make him beg his life, and then send him Alcidiana's prisoner. His vow was more then ac­complish'd, for the Prince of Sidonia knowing him, and desirous to be avenged for the affront he had receiv'd by his valour, came towards him with all the resolution that ha­tred can breath into haughty courages. The Duell was long, and the victorie some­time doubtfull; but fortune now reconcil'd to Polexander, made her flye on his side, and the Prince of Sidonia lost his life, with all that he had wonne in the Inaccessible Island. His Armie sped no better: Those that scap'd the sword were made slaves, and before noon, of all that great naval Armie there was nought to be seen but the re­mainder of their burnt vessells. Our Heroe had but newly left the Prince of Sidon a when he met with Pallantus. He fell on his neck, and relating to him in few words all that he knew not, of his fortune: What (said he) will the Queene thinke of my dis­guise? [Page 340] And can she perswade her selfe there is any sincerity in the Soule of him who hath made shew of so much artifice in his actions, in his discourse, nay in his very habili­ments. Ah! Pallantus, if thou worke not my peace, if thou winne not Amintha to un­dertake the defence of my affection, I see my self more miserable then ever. Go there­fore (dear Pallantus) and labour for my peace. 'Tis possible it may betide, that in consi­deration of the victorie the Queen hath had on her enemies, she may lend an eare to my Justifications. Make use of your eloquence on so faire an occasion; but above all, make known at large, that Fortune and Love have been the sole Authors of my disguise; and that I never heard any speak of that fatall Prophesie, which gave Alcidiana to an Afri­can Slave, when the King of Ghenoa's amity, and mine own inclination made me take on the marks and title of a Slave. If Polexander would have talk'd till the morning, I think Pallantus would not have interrupted him, for he was so transported from his self, that he scarce knew who spoke, or where he was. At last our Heroe made him recollect his Spirits. He came again, and held long time his eyes fix'd on Polexander, as if he had suspected his eares, and willingly would know, whether the one would confirme the ve­rity which the other would have perswaded him. Though he saw himself fully satisfi'd, yet he persever'd in his doubts, and look'd for Polexander in Polexander. What (said he) you live then, and are not the Slave born in the depths of Africa, for whose valour heaven reserv'd the safety of this Kingdome. Yes, (said our Heroe) I live, and am a slave come out of Africa. But I am not so happy, nor so valiant to believe, that the safety of a King­dome such as this is, should be reserv'd for me. You are (repli'd Pallantus) both too for­tunate, and valiant then needs to accomplish so great a businesse, but I place not on that the height of your felicity. I fix it on this, that Providence it self (who from all Eterni­ty had destin'd you to the government of this Kingdom) hath lead you to it, by wayes so faire, and ordinarie. I suffer not my self to be dazeled by my friends flatteries, (repli'd Polexander) I know mine owne value, and what I ought to hope for; and if you will give me leave to declare my mind freely, I shall tell you (dear Pallantus) that the high­est pretention I have is, that my service may at last obtain me (from Alcidiana) the ho­nour to weare her chains, and to watch for her amongst her Slaves. This converse had lasted longer but for Diceus coming in. Assoon as Polexander saw him, he step'd for­ward, and ask'd (with a trembling voice) if he had had the honour to see the Queen. I newly came from her (reply'd Diceus) and bring such newes as may much amaze you. Pallantus thinking Diceus would not speak before him made a semblance to withdraw, but our Heroe staying him by the arme; You (said he) shall wrong me if you imagine that that I am distrustfull of your discretion. Do you not know that you have undertaken to justifie me to the Queen, and how can you do it, unlesse you know how she is dispo­sed, and what thoughts Diceus hath put in her? Tell us (said he to his servant) what you have done. Diceus dissembling his joy, Before (said he) I acquit my self of the com­mand you impos'd on me, I thought it fitting to visit Amintha. I went to her lodging, and met her as she was entring. No sooner had she an eye on me, but she came forward, and feigning to be all in choler: What Diceus (said she) you have been capable of this treason? and Polexander could conceale from me a thing wherein I might so effectu­ally serve him? Surely you have both done very fairly. Now see for some body that may repair the faults you have committed. Madam (said I) if the King my Master have been in an error, do not (if you please) impute it, either to the diminution of his affection, nor any other cause as culpable. Fortune is guilty of all, and if you will have me name her Complices, I must say all Alcidiana's Subjects. No sooner had the King my Master set foot on th [...] Island, but they took him for a certain African Slave, foretold of by some prophesie, and on that foundation building all that a popular extravagance can produce, they won him to take armes, and march to the relief of this City. The very day he got the Spaniards Fort, he was wounded as you have heard, and but for my ordinary curiosi­ty he had not known either of your re [...] hither, or whether you were alive or no. I can assure you it for truth, because I have seen him many a time lament you for dead, and he no sooner knew from Alcippus by what unhappie accident you had been as it were for­ced out of his armes, but falling as it were dead on me, Let heaven (said he) hence for­ward doe what it pleaseth, since Amintha is lost, and since with her I lose all the hope [Page 341] of my reseeing Alcidiana; I have nothing else to be depriv'd of. Amintha was so inly touch'd with these words (said Diceus) that the teares stood in her eyes. A while she stood and could not speake to me. At last, being recollected, Come, said, she into my Closet, and let's indeavour to recompose such things as Polexander's ill fortune hath disordered. Assoon as we were in private, Before all things else (said Amintha) you must relate to me all that your Master hath done (I may say) since his resurrection. I repli'd, Madam I recounted to you before Alcidiana, how he dyed; I will now tell you the manner of his reviving, and the brave adventures which have befalne him in his second life. After that, I related to her your Majesties death, and resurrection, as I took it; and forgot nothing of what had betided you both by Sea, and Land. I will not tell you how often Amintha wept during my recitall, nor how often she made me say over againe the same things, that she might make them credible to her. When I had done; Diceus (said she) 'tis to be confess'd that the generousnesse, and constancie of the King thy Master were impossible to be rewarded, if heaven had destin'd them a recom­pence lesse then Alcidiana. But note with me, how that Eternall Spirit which so wise­ly presides o're the fates of men, hath by secret, insensible, and unconceivable wayes, brought Polexander to that high point of honour, and felicity, where his virtues are to be crowned. Indeed, that Providence would not by common meanes worke the conjun­ction of two such extraordinary personages as Alcidiana and Polexander. It hath done well to hide that admirable effect of Justice in thick clouds, and to inviron it with seeming invincible difficulties, to the end that the one becoming dissipated, and the o­ther surmounted, that admirable worke of its powerfull hand, might amaze all mindes with joy, and admiration. Or, if thou wilt have me say so, to the end the Deity making appear what it is by so visible a miracle, might deeply reingrave its love, and fear in all such hearts from whence it was alike effaced. Our Prophets threatned Alcidiana either to be taken away by strangers, or to be the wife of a Slave com'd out of the deserts of Africa; and denounc'd, how without that fatall marriage her estate ran hazard to be lost, with her selfe. Whil'st all things were preparing here to bring to light the be­ginning of that Prophesi, Heaven laboured in the depth of Africa for the Accomplish­ment of the rest. It sent tempests, discover'd rocks, and ordained Shipwracks, to the end that a great King losing all the signes of Dignity should become effectively a Slave, and under that miserable condition wander long time through the deserts of Africa. But thou seest not Diceus the mysterie of this inducement. Heaven made not Polexander a Slave but to witnesse its decrees are unchangeable; and withall, to provide for him a way right, and open, whereby it might be easie for him to arrive to that happie port, whither neither his [...]avells, his watchings, nor industrious searches had ever been able to have brought him, All these things have I represented to the Queen, and have so well perswaded her to them, that she hath in part lost the displeasure she had concei­ved against Polexander. She believes now that if he err'd, 'twas by the inevitable or­der of heaven; and humbling herselfe before that absolute Power, O Eternall Wis­dome, cri'd shee! I admire thee, and am confounded in these Events, I have no more election, nor will. Doe at last what thou hast resolv'd for thy glory. But what think'st thou Diceus to what this Princess was driven when Polexander (after he had sufficient­ly made himselfe knowne) vanish'd from her as a flash of lightning? I will not say that she changed the faire intention she bore him to an excesse of hatred, since after that which shee spoke to thee her selfe, it is possible she never had it. Yet I may well tell thee that never any great affection was contested withall by so many different ene­mies, as that which Alcidiana bears to Polexander. Assoon as she was retir'd where she might with seemlinesse speake her thoughts: What Amintha (said she) hold you cor­respondencie with mine enemies? Have you betrayed mine innocencie, and will you suffer a stranger to triumph o're Alcidiana's honour? By one onely word you might have stop'd those extravagancies my credulity wrought me into. You might without failing in any fidelity to your friend, have drawne me from those errours which have hurried me to unreasonable resolutions, and have prepar'd me by degrees for the pre­sence of that suppos'd Slave. But you have unworthily left me to the frensie of my sub­jects, and mine owne. Amintha, Amintha! how shall these faults be excus'd? But I [Page 342] know their cause. Polexander's contentment is more dear to you then mine. You desir'd to build his fortune on the ruine of mine honour, and never car'd what, became of Al­cidiana, so that Polexander attained his desires. In a word, you have wish'd that he himselfe might be witnesse to those follies whereto his affection might sway me, that so he might glory and boast of my being inamour'd on him. This contentment he hath had, Amintha; and I thinke there is nothing now left for mee to act, either for his or your satisfaction. But as I labour'd both for you and him, 'tis fit I have my turne, and now doe somewhat for my selfe. Since I have so often assur'd you of my love to Polexander, I will not now say that Prince is indifferent to me. I confesse A­mintha I have lov'd him, and I love him still; but since I am deceived in my affection, I will stay the course of it, and do in hatred to my selfe, what I had resolved to perfect for the love of that Stranger. Doe not doubt it. I will accomplish all the Prophesie. The slave that came out of the utmost of Africa shall be Alcidiana's husband. But she will ever regard him according to what he seems, and not what he is; and will well finde a meanes to deprive him of the applauding him­self for his cunning, or reaping the fruit he expects by his infamous victory. The Queen at these words being inforc'd to stoppe, (so much had griefe and indignation transpor­ted her) I presently fell at her feet, and most earnestly beseeching her to heare my justi­fication, swore to her by all that is most sacred in heaven, that I was innocent of the treason whereof shee accused mee, and that the King thy Master had first beguil'd me, to the end I might be the more fit to deceive her. Though I have much ado to beleeve you, repli'd the Queen, yet I will perswade my selfe that Polexander is onely guilty. But since hee is a priviledg'd Offender, an Offender sustain'd by heaven, an Offender maintain'd by the same Justice which useth to cut off others; I renounce the intention I had of prosecuting his crime. Let him live, Amintha, since heaven ordaines it, and my people require it, and let another die for him. It shall be the indiscreet Alcidiana; yes, it shall be that wretch, which is to be offer'd a sacrifice for the safety of this State, and the glory of a Stranger. Let's quickly then to that immolation, and live no longer after so much shame. Let mee die, that I may no more look on Polexander. Her sighes here hindering her further speech, I besought her to consider things pass'd on that side which appear'd not so monstrous, and to conceive, that being guided by the provi­dence of heaven, she could not look on them as things prodigious, but that withall shee must beleeve that very Providence subject to error and disorder. Afterwards, I went on with what I began this relation, and brought her, after five or six houres of contesta­tion, to give mee the victory, or to say better, to reduce her to the absolute power of him that masters Kings. But I could not winne of her so much, as a consent to see Po­lexander. Shee alwaies upbraided his treachery, and would not beleeve he lov'd her, since he fear'd so little to offend her. When Amintha had related thus much to mee (said Diceus) I was much confused. Yet at last, necessity encourag'd and lent me wit. I justifi'd your arrivall, your disguise, and silence; nay, all that I had spoken touching your death too. If after all this (said I) there remaines any other crime, 'tis I that committed it, and Polexander is cleare. Thus we parted. At the recitall of these misti­dings, Polexander became as dead, and ruminated something dismall in his mind, when divers arm'd men coming in where he was, interrupted his thoughts, and oblig'd him to give them audience. Pallantus conducted and presented them: See (said he) the men from whom the Spaniards have receiv'd one of their mortall'st blowes. They are the Inhabitants of a little towne at the head of this Lake. By meanes of a very faire ha­ven within the inclosure of their walls, they have been chosen by our Kings to keep such Vessels as at any time by tempests were throwne on our coasts. They had a great ma­ny of all burthens; and seeing this Island in so much danger, thought it fit to try all waies for the publick safety, and have recourse to other meanes then that of force. To which end, they resolv'd to fill some ships with wilde-fire, which set under saile, and steer'd neere the Spanish Navy they fir'd, and quitted so happily, that with a little or no losse they have defeated the principall strength of the Enemy. Polexander entertaining those generous Islanders with the best precedency of spirit which his private discontents had left him, prais'd their industry and courage; confessing, they had extreamly con­tributed [Page 343] to the deliverance of their country. With which good words he dismiss'd them, and taking Pallantus aside, let him know of Alcidiana's new choler. Pallantus could not reply, because at the instant he saw a great many people descend by the causey lea­ding to the upper towne. They were such as first heard news of their intire deliverance, and the metamorphosis of the slave Araxes into the Prince Polexander; and came to see him with all the expressions of an extraordinary joy. Some carried branches of Palme in their hands, others of Cedar, some had Laurell Crownes, and others had O­live. Those that march'd foremost, meeting with our Heroe sooner then they thought, witness'd their astonishment, and gladnesse by shoutes and clapping of hands. Those that followed, desirous to break their order and come in the first rank, that they might not be the last in rendring what they ow'd to the deliverer, made such a confusion; that divers of them fell into the Lake, and Polexander himselfe was almost stifled in the croude. He was compell'd whether he would or no to answer that unmeasurable af­fection of the multitude, by long kindnesses and great demonstrations of joy. But when he saw himselfe solicited by those indiscreet zelots, to goe in triumph into the upper towne, and then to the Temple of Wisedome, to render thanks for the happy successe of the warre; hee mildly remonstrated their fault, and told them, that al­though their desires were just, yet they could not (without offence) be satisfi'd, but by order from the Queen. That they ought to attend her commands, and respect her as the sole power by whose wondrous effect the Spaniards were beaten from the Island. The multitude being a little held in by so discreet a remonstrance, by little and little retir'd into the towne; and our Heroe seeing most part of the Lords of the Island who had fought under his command, to come towards him, was againe obliged to constrain himselfe to treat them according to their merit. They congratulate with him for the victory; and by a proposition reduc'd him to a necessity farre more harsh then that which he had newly avoided. For they besought him with one voice, to goe and declare to the Queen how the Enemies had been defeated. He answered that Pallantus, and some others, had already retated it. But that's not enough (repli'd the Lords). Shee should (if you please) heare it from your owne mouth. There is none but he by whose valour we have been delivered, that can fitly declare how it was done. Polexander, having nothing to oppose against so much reason, but a great deale of wilfulnesse, which in all likelyhood had been ill grounded, made no other answer but that he was ready to obey them. Presently Pallantus, Amintas, and two others were sent to Alcidiana to entreat audience for Polexander and his followers. Upon consideration she granted it; and assoone as the Messengers were gone, 'Tis in vaine for mee (said she to Amin­tha) to resist a stronger power then mine owne. I see well that Polexander must have the best of Alcidiana aswell as of his Enemies. That which I fear'd most is betided, and to my shame, I am inforc'd to shew a faire semblance to a man that hath cruelly offended me. Whil'st the Princesse made these and other the like complaints to her confident, the Embassadors return'd to those that had sent them, and intimated, that presently after the Queen had din'd they should have audience. They were glad of the time, lest they might appeare unfitly before the Princesse. For Polexander he never thought much of trimming or adorning himselfe. His fault, or (to speak more truely) his misfortune was still before his eies. Hee imagined that Alcidiana truely mislik'd him, and gave no way to see him but for her peoples sake. Whil'st these cogitations perplex'd him, Diceus presented a letter to him from Amintha; without knowing why, he trembled at the receiving it, and at the opening found these words:

The true Amintha to the false Araxes.

I Have not leasure to reprove you so much as your cunning and little friendship re­quireth. Nor doe I write to you as one offended, but generous, that even pities the misfortune of an Enemy. Make use of my freedome, if you intend to be happy, and intreat it to forget your ingratitude, that you may after your publike Audience have by that meanes a more particular.

[Page 344] Polexander took not long time to deliberate what he was to answer so generous a friend, but calling for things fitting made this reply:

Araxes and Polexander equally unfortunate, to the vertuous Amintha.

HE whom you stile ingratefull, without a murmure undergoes your reproaches, though his owne Conscience assures him he deserves them not. Neverthelesse, he renders you many humble thanks for the remedy you promise to his afflictions. But it is not enough, generous Amintha, that your charity hath found out a salve for those wounds which I thought to be incurable: It behoves you (if you please) to perfect the Cure, and instruct me how I should demeane my selfe.

This Answer brought to Amintha had all the successe Polexander could expect. For that worthy Lady with such discretion serv'd him, that she obtain'd from Alcidiana a tacite consent of seeing him, and to heare his justifications. But the blinded and in­discreet love of the people hindred the execution of this designe. They assembled by troopes in all quarters, and imagining their quiet would never be secur'd so long as the Prophesie had not its full accomplishment, beset the Palace as they had done the day before, and cri'd out that the Queen should perfect their happinesse. What's the cause, saies one, that her Majesty acquits not her selfe of the duty she owes the eternall Wis­dome for her own safety and that of her subjects? Is she so insensible of the favours she hath receiv'd from so powerfull a hand, that she deferres to give thanks for them? But, saies another, with what pretext can she colour her refusall and delaies, since there is no more talk of putting an unknown Slave into her throne? See what 'tis (quoth a third) to be too happy: we forget our selves in the excesse of diversifi'd good fortune. The Queen (who at length saw her self either a Slave, or engaged to wed a wretched African, is at this houre, not only victorious over her Enemies, but on the point to be the wife of the famousest Prince in the world) looseth her self in the greatnesse and abundance of her bliss, and beleevs she lessens something of her glory in making her self the companion of a man. Those insolent & rash heads, having a long time entertain'd themselves with such discourses, press'd on the Palace guards, and said resolutely they would speak with the Queen. Rhadiotez came to them, and remonstrating instantly that the continuance of their violence would make them all subject to the Law, boldly and rigorously deman­ded, if they were not freed from all feare of their Enemies, and what they requested more? We come (repli'd they) to beseech the Queen, not to put off to a further day those thanksgivings which the divine Protection expects from our resentments; but conferring on our deliverer the reward destin'd him by heaven, by her obedience make our present felicity everlasting. Rhadiotez, who was as desirous as they to see Polexander and Alcidiana seated in one throne, but conceiving by some speech let fall by the Prin­cesse, that she never intended to marry unlesse she were forc'd to it, mildly bespoke the multitude, prais'd their good intention, and promis'd them to represent to the Queen the justice of their demands. Whil'st he went to make this relation, those who were to accompany our Heroe to his Audience, fail'd not at the time assign'd to be with him. They entred the Fort, all cover'd with Gold and Jewels, and finding Polexander very melancholy, and in a too perceiveable neglect, told him, he either seem'd to envy their happinesse or his owne glory. Hee answered them not, but with a smile, and seeing himselfe urg'd to be gone, took the place these valiant men appointed, and march'd towards the Palace. No sooner was he out of the Fort, but Fame, which still flew be­fore him, got to Eliza, and proclaim'd from street to street, from one Carfour to ano­ther, that the deliverer of their country was coming to give their Queen an accompt of what hehad done. At which news, that part of people before the palace descended to the gate where Polexander was to enter, and receiving him with acclamations and all signes of joy; intreated, that hee would not leave his miracle imperfect, but rather [Page] since it lay in his power, that he would conferre on future ages also, th [...]se sel [...] which he had gloriously acquired in the present. Polexander would again have [...] ­den the multitude, but all the Lords in company, intimated to him they were of the same mind, and said 'twas fitting the Queene should end what she had begun. When they came into the first Court of the Palace throng'd full with people, Rhadiotez met them, and made knowne that the Queene no longer induring the cryes of her people, and desirous to begin her new government, by such thanksgivings as she owed to the Eternall Wisdome, put off their audience till after the Sacrifices. But (said the Priest) let every one prepare with joy for the Solemnizing so holy an action, and nev [...] think more of our former miseries. We are now come to those happy times our Prophe­sies so long ago foretold us. All the Auditors understood well what he meant Even. Po­lexander (that would have been willing for conforming himself to what he believ'd of Alcidiana's thoughts to have found out somewhat that might have added to his discon­tents) took notice of too visible assurances some certaine happinesse was betiding him. He instantly departed the Palace, with his pompous attendance, and retir'd to the High Chamberlaines house, where all the people following him, by their submissions, and ac­clamations acknowledged him for their King: And withdrawing every one to his own home prepar'd themselves for the comfort, and mirth they expected from Alcidiana's resolution. Diceus in the meane while (who was still carefull for what ever concern'd his Masters service) came to him, with his Slaves, and all other necessaries; and was so eloquent in perswading him to his happinesse, that he made him consent to change his habit. The High Chamberlaine getting away the multitude, to leave the Prince at more libertie, went afterwards to performe his duty at the Palace, and receiving there the Queenes Commands, returned to give fitting Orders to the towne, and those of the Temple. When he came back, he found Polexander in case fit to appeare before Al­cidiana, and asking him how he would spend the remainder of the day, propos'd their private going to Amintha's lodging, and there passe that time with her. Polexander made some difficulty, though he much wish'd it. But Diceus advising him not to lose that occasion, he, with the High Chamberlaine (in a close Chariot) went to the Ladies lodging. Had she expected that visit she could not have been better prepared. She wel­com'd Polexander with an unexpressible joy; and after a discourse of many things able enough to consolate him, said in his Eare, she would make good her word, and bring him to Alcidiana in private. But (said our wary Lover) will it not offend her? Feare nothing, repli'd Amintha, let the event of the Counsell I give you light on me. I obey Amintha (said Polexander) and goe boldly on the word of so good a guide. The High Chamberlaine discreetly slipping away during this conference, left them in full liberty. Presently Amintha, commanded her Chariot to be be made readie, and in the mean time sent to know what the Queene did. Word was brought back, she was retir'd into her Closet, and command given that none shall have admittance. Let's try our fotune yet said Amintha, turning to Polexander. Not so Madam by your leave, (repli'd the Prince timorously) let us not indanger the displeasing her againe. I have offended but too much alreadie, With that Amintha looking merrily upon him, Is it possible (said she) that so fearfull a man hath been able to subdue a Nation esteemed the the valiantest in the world? Ah Madam! (repli'd the Prince) this is no time to jeast. I know Alcidiana, and what I am. Well, howsoever (said the Lady) wee must to the Queene, wee'll warre upon sight, and undertake nothing rashly. With that she, ac­companied with Polexander, and two of her wemen, took her Chariot, and descen­ded (as she was wont) at an entrie of the Palace where no men were permitted to come. Thence she went up into her chamber, and leaving our lover there with her wemen, by a private Gallery came to the Queenes Cabinet. The Ladies which were the Ush­ers, understanding who it was, opened the doore, knowing shee had a particular per­mission to see the Queene in what case soever. As she entred, she asked aloud and of purpose, what the Queene did? She heard her, and called her to come in, and said she should see. Presently the lesser Cabinet doore was opened, and she saw the Queen had before her the plate of brasse on which was ingraven the Prophesie we have so often spoken of. See (said she) my obedience. I doe all that you prescribe me; for above [Page 346] this houre I have been troubling my braines to give this Prophesie some favourable in­terpretation. Amintha, with a great reverence repli'd: If your Majestie find any thing difficult in it, I will go fetch you an excellent Inteprreter. I shall doe it well enough a­lone said Alcidiana smiling. Yet 'tis fitting and necessary (answered Amintha) for your Majestie to know that Interpreters opinion. If you please I will bring him to you. Why Amintha (said the Queene hastily) is he here? Yes Madam, repli'd the Lady. I took on me the boldnesse to bring him hither, on your Majesties word. O heaven! (said Alcidiana sadly) let me not see him. I thinke Madam (quoth Amintha) you are both of one mind, and will. How (said the Queen) will he not see me? Yes, (answer­ed Amintha) but he dares not. You believe then (said the Queen) that I as extreamly desire it, but have not boldnesse enough to say so. Your Majestie (repli'd the Lady) may give my words what interpretation you please, and I will indure it, provided you give not to your owne such a one, as may be contrary to my intention. At last said the Queene, I see Amintha that I must obey. No sooner had she spoke the words, but A­mintha went forth to bring in the affrighted Polexander. Never was the like seen, as in the Princes action, and speech, when he saw himselfe ingaged to see Alcidiana. The most violent cold of an Ague, puts not a man into such an estate as he was, by the excess of his passion. He stagger'd at every step, and was oftentimes like to fall downe the staires. Sometimes he stood so glew'd to a step, that he could goe no further, and by and by descended two at once. Amintha was neare stifled with laughter; and every foot ask'd him if he truly in his conscience knew where he was. How can I know that, (re­pli'd the Prince seriously) since I doe not so much as know my selfe? At last, with much adoe they came to the Cabinet doore: Those who attended there opened it, and told Amintha that since she went forth, so great a giddinesse had taken the Queen, that she was faine to lye down on her bed in the greater privie chamber. Thither she went, and finding part of the windowes shut, and the rest darkned by great fine-coloured taf­fata curtaines drawne over them, came softly to the bed, and presented herselfe to Al­cidiana. Come nearer Amintha (said the Queene) and see how I am. I was like to swound since you left me. But where is our deliverer now, said shee raising her voice? He is at last (Madam repli'd Amintha) come to your chamber door. How at last come, said Alcidiana? Because (repli'd Amintha) he hath been twentie times like to break his neck in coming downe the lesser staires. He could not find the steps, and I believe he will hardly be able to come in hither without swounding. Goe bring him in (said the Queen,) and raising her voice again, Come neare, come nearer our deliverer, said she. With that, Amintha took Polexander by the hand, and one might say with­out exaggeraton, drew him to the Queenes bed side. Presently he threw himselfe, or rather sunke on his knees, and not daring to lift up his eyes to see that Sun which had purposely hidden part of her light for feare of dazeling him, kneel'd so without speech, memorie, or judgement. Polexander, (said the Princesse) I understand by Amintha you intend to justifie your selfe for what hath pass'd. But it needs not. That absolute Power, which disposeth of us as it pleaseth, is your justification. If you have err'd, you have err'd by its decree; and I should not have the thoughts which I ought, if I were not extreamly sensible of those miracles you have done for the safety of my subjects, and my selfe. During this speech, Polexander recovering his senses, and speak­ing to her, but more elegantly with his eyes, then his tongue: 'Tis now Madam (said he) that I must call you the lively Image of that Eternall Spirit, which shewes too much love to his Creatures. Like him, you pardon infinitely, and like him, you heape favours on those, who by their demerits were to expect nothing but tortures, and pu­nishment. I therefore (since it pleaseth your Majestie) turne those excuses I had pre­par'd into actions of thanksgiving. At that word, Alcidiana interrupting him; I will (said shee) neither have thanks, nor excuses. They are both due to you from me, but I know your generousnesse is so farre elevated above what is ordinary, that it would be taken for an offence, if I went about either to excuse my selfe, or render you thanks. Polexander hath done nothing (repli'd our Lover) as a Prince, or a Slave, which may be thought worthy that which he owes your Majestie, or his affection to your Majestie. By that name of Slave (said the Queene) you make me call to mind, what Amintha [Page 347] hath related to me touching the many dangers and troubles you have pass'd in search of thi [...] Is­land. Is it possible that things have so happened as she hath declared? Or w [...]d you please to make me a recitall of them your self? If it were not too irksom to you, I should a great deal of content in hearing all that which hath beflne you since our separation. At that command Polexander began to be a little more imboldned then before, and fixed his eyes on the Queen, At the very first houre (said he) when I had the [...]nour to see your Majesti [...] I made a [...]ow per­petually to serve you, and that vow was accompanied with a blind obedien [...]e; I think to give you a proof of it, in re [...]ng such adventures as 'tis possible may be unpleasing to you: But if I therein offend, I beseech you to impute it to that obedience. This preamble was followed by an ex [...]ct and judicious narration of those many strange and wonderfull E [...]ts yo [...] have read du­ring this long discourse: Alcidiana many times inti [...]ated how much the lov'd him; and the strength of her imagination seconding the greatnesse of her love, threw her into all those perils wherein Polexander had been ingaged. She took as many wounds as he, underwent as many dis­commodities, & triumph'd aswel over as many enemies. Polexander was very generous in his good fortune. He remembred Almanzor; and desirous to acquit himself of what he had promised to his memorie: How well knew'st thou great Almanzor (cri'd he) that Alcidiana was the only feli­city which all Heroes were to seek for on earth; and how well didst thou to end thy dayes, when thou had'st lost all hope of attaining to that blessedness. Alcidiana being surpris'd with this tran­sport, ask'd Polexander, who that Almanzor was. A Prince (Madam said he) that had never his equall. He was endow'd with all manner of high qualities, and aspir'd to nothing but what was extraordinary. By the sight likewise of one of yo [...] Portraicts, he became one of your most zea­lous adorers. The [...] of half Africa [...] and [...]rod under [...] [...]owns the Queen his Mother had got s [...]r him, onely to obtaine the honour to be [...] [...]ves. But the re­doubted destiny of your Island, ruined his aspiring hopes; and the [...] [...]'d, or ra­ther the just anger that inflam'd him, to see a wretched King of the Canaries, dare pretend to the honour of adoring you, made him turne his armes on himselfe. Polexander (repli'd the Queen coldly) is without doubt that wretched King. But if I remember well what Amintha told me, that Prince whom you so little esteem, gave that great Heroe his life. 'Tis true Madam (said Polexander) that Almanzor, attempting with my life, to deprive me of my insolence in addres­sing you my vowes; the Chance of armes, which is almost alwaies unjust, gave from him that ad­vantage which his valour deserved. Whereupon growne desperate with the disgrace, he resol­ved to dye, and thought after his misfortune, he was not worthy to continue his adoration. He therefore caus'd a Tombe to be built in one of the Canaries which may go for one of the worlds miracles; and after he had shut himself into it, and invok'd your Majestie, as the sole Divinity he acknowledg'd here below, resolv'd to immolate himself to your glory, and to make his Victime the more admirable, was himselfe both the Priest, and Sacrifice. Before he dyed, he command­ed his deare Almandarin to pluck out his heart assoon as he was expir'd; and to assay all meanes to come and lay it at your Majesties feet. By a strange adventure that heart, so noble and so fa­mous, is in my hands, and I engag'd my self to see the last will of that Prince performed. But some two yeare, since, loosing that Treasure, with the vessell in which I inbark'd from the Canaries, to my great sorrow, I cannot but imperfectly accomplish the desires of that Semi-god. Polexan­der thus ending, Alcidiana repli'd, that she held Almanzors heart as receiv'd. And for fear said she, you may be the cause of a new tumult, goe and prepare your selfe for the thanksgiving, which you, aswell as my self, doe owe for the saving of this Kingdome. Those last words which could not be more obliging, ended this sweet conversation. Polexander arose, as he stoop'd to take leave of the Queen he happily met with her hand, and kiss'd it with such a transport, as none but a discreet Lover is able to imagine; and leaving Amintha there, got into her Charior, and commanded to be set down at the high Chamberlains. 'Twas there that in good earnest he began to taste the sweets of his fortune. He related to Diceus all that had pass'd; and his memorie to please him making use of some priviledges of the imagination, represented to him as intire, and consummated felicities, a little Essay of his happiness to come. And to make an outward shew of the joy he conceal'd within, he clad himself as for a day of Triumph, & was loaded with so many Diamonds, as by their onely richnesse he gave convincing proof of the greatnesse in which hea­ven had ordained him to be borne. Night shortly after coming on, every one prepar'd for the Temple. All the streets were inlightned with an infinite number of torches, and so full of goers and comers, that 'twas easie to be perceiv'd, the people look'd after the action they were to per­forme [Page 348] as a certaine Gage, and infallible Signe of their peace and perpetuall quietnesse. Assoon as Alcidiana; with her Court, were come to the Temple of Wisdome, she sent the high Cham­berlaine (her Vice-roy) and her Captaine of the Guard, with his band to meet Polexander. They intimated to him the command they had, and brought him to the Temple, followed by all the great Lords of the Realme. All those of the towne which either by crowding, sleight or in­treaty could get in, had been there expecting him above six houres; and persons of condition were on Scaffolds, from whence they might see the Queens throne. Assoon as the Slave [...] were come to the doores, they dispersed such as might breed any confusion, and then open'd them to Po­lexander. He was receiv'd by the chiefe Prelate, and conducted to the Incense Altar. Presently after, the Queen, of more lustre, and farre more glorious in her owne beauty, then in that of her Jewells, came and kneel'd downe on the same degree with Polexander. Instantly he rose up, and would have retir'd. But Alcidiana staying him, You must not, said she, at this time (if you please) have any will. Our Ceremonies require that resignation. Polexander taking those words as they were spoken, kneel'd down again, and in the very instant, twenty Priests clad in linnen robes, took their golden trumpets, and by a very pleasing sound, impos'd silence on all the compa­ny. After that the Quire sang an Hymne of victory; which done, they celebrated with a great deale of devotion the sacrifice of thanksgiving. At last, the High-Priest arising, took a golden Censor, and putting fire on the little hearths where they stood, the ayre was presently fill'd with a most extreame sweet and pleasing odour. All the time the perfumes lasted, the musick sung, and when they were spent, the venerable Rhadiotez put himself betwixt the Queen, and Polex­ander, and lifting his hands and eyes to heaven, thank'd the Eter [...]all Wisdome in most grave and holy man [...] for the bless [...]gs it had show [...] [...] on the Kingdome. Which action end­ed, he pres [...] [...] Cen [...]or to the Queen, and ingag'd her to performe what belong'd to her Sa­cerdotall di [...]y. S [...]raight she went and perfum'd the Incense Altar, and ascending a little Theater whereon were two chaires of Gold and Ivory, sare downe in that on the left hand, and presently intimated she would speak. Presently the noise ceasing, all were in a deep attention; and she arising and presenting the end of her Scepter to the Company:

My Friends (said shee aloud) you have made me sufficiently know by your late actions, that you are yet in doubt of your happinesse, and that you cannot take for a true content, a quiet which you imagine not perpetuall. If the object of things present hath at first sight darted any mirth in your minds, the feare of what might happen hath as quickly driven it out againe; and you beleeve that your deliverance being not accompanied with all the circumstances which heaven desires, 'tis impossible it should be secur'd you. You foresee new troubles, you fear new enemies; and the love to your children being as sensible to you as the love of your selves, you do not think your selves perfectly happy, because you see not your happinesse likely to descend to your po­sterity. But give over your foresights and fears, since 'tis in my power to give you an end to both. Yes, my Subjects, I will surmount all those difficulties which any way hinder the perfection of your felicity. I lay this Scepter at the feet of the Infinite Wisdome which we adore within this temple. To which I offer my liberty, and qu [...]tting all soveraign power, which was thence given me with my life, I give my consent it may be transferred to him who by his wondrous acts hath deserved to be both your Master and mine. The Princess had no sooner ended this short and judicious speech, but there arose amongst the People a kind of humming noise, intimating the content of all the Assembly. Rhadiotez presently, according to the order he had receiv'd from Alcidiana, took Polexander and led him up the Scaffold where she sate. She straight rose, and making two or three steps to receive him, presented Polexander the Scepter she held, who did what he could not to accept it. But the high Priest laying before him the necessity of that Ceremony, and moreover Alcidiana intreating him to give her that last proof of his obedience, he was inforc'd to yeeld to his honour. The Scepter being in his hand, al the people began to cry, Long live the King and the Queen: after these acclamatio [...]s, the Quire sung a Hymne of peace, and another for that incomparable alliance. The chief Prelate ended these first Ce­remonies, with those whereby he knit in an undiflolvable knot, Alcidiana and Polexander, and put off the rest to their solemne Coronation. Midnight striking, they departed the Temple, and follow'd by the Court, and almost the whole Towne returned [...]o the Pallace. When they entred, the shoutes, the clapping of hands, and other signes of joy began again. The Canons went off on all sides the Towne, fire-workes crown'd with a great light the Turrets and Domes of the Pallace, and the Trumpets by their sound intimated the resounding noise of the people, who had con­tinually in their mouthes the names of Polexander and Alcidiana. Two houres after midnight the High Chamber­laine went out of the palace, and thanking the People in the name of their Kings, invited them to the pomps and sports which should be celebrated a whole moneths time, to solemnize so great a feast. At these promises they clapped their hands, gave a shout, and retir'd. Those who had the permission to follow our Semi-gods into their Sanctuary, came forth assoon as the People were gone. Let us imitate them that knew so much civility, and not boldy knock at so sacred gates, but be contented to know that Polexander and Alcidiana are together; and since we have so long time injoy'd them, have so much justice as to think it fitting now they should likewise enjoy one another