Done into English by VVilliam Browne, Gent.

For the Right Honourable PHILIP, Earle of Pem­broke and Montgomery, &c.


LONDON, Printed[?] by THO: HARPER, for THOMAS WALKLEY, and are[?] to be sold at his shop at the Golden Pestle and Mortar betweene Yorke House and Charing Crosse. 1647.

The First Part of POLEXANDER.

The first Booke.

A Ship which seem'd to triumph over a tempest wherewith it had beene long assaulted, cast Anchor in the rode of that happy Isle, which by a perpetuall miracle sees trilling from the leaves of trees the undrainable fountaines whence she hath her bedewing. On the poope of that proud vessell presently appeared a young Turk, who for his beauty might have been taken for one of those mar­vells which have made the Isles of the Archipelago so much re­nowned. He commanded a Shallop to be unshipped, with an intent to be set on shore, and those whom he had chosen to attend him, were already with the [...] downe, when a confused voice, and fearfull howlings staid him on the very side of his Ship. He turn'd his eyes towards the place whence the noise came, and standing so a while undiscovering any thing, he perceiv'd (at last) that from the point of a rock high, exstreamly steep, two men, who strictly embrac'd in the arms of each other, threw themselves headlong into the Sea. He was much mov'd with a chance so strange and pitifull, and those of his followers by a great shreek witnes­sed their great resentment: Yea the very Mariners suspending that obduratenesse, which their manner of life makes naturall to them, offered to succour those two so desperate. The faire Turke prays'd their resolution, and commanded them to put it in execution. Thereupon some fifteen or twenty cast themselves into the Shallop, and row'd on with all the earnestnesse that ought to accompany charity, and the excesse of it was almost the cause of their losse. But the winds and the waves sensible of so rare an example, suspen­ded their violence; and to have part in the glory to have saved two so miserable, threw the one upon a banke of sand, and carried the other aginst the Turks Shallop. Presently foure or five caught hold of him by the haire and drew him up, and strait hastened to the succour of his companion, whom they found more hard to be saved: Yet at last their agility link'd with their affection, overcame all obstacles both of sea and land, and drew him out of the sands, where those two elements seem'd to have dig'd his grave. If their joy was great for their good successe, their astonishment was far more when in unclo­thing one of those unfortunate creatures, they found about him two chaines of gold, to which hung two boxes covered with diamonds and pearls: It is likely they had so much curiosity to amuse themselves a little while in the viewing of things of such value. But the desire they had to please the faire Turke surmounting all other, they betooke them a­gaine to their oares, and got againe to their Ship with the same alacrity that they left it. Whilst some were recounting the strange successe of their short voyage, others were stri­ving to bring out of their long swounding those whom they had recovered from the sea. But perceiving all their endeavours uneffectuall, they got into their Ship and with those engins us,d to raise their Canon and Merchandise, drew up the two swounded persons to them. The faire Turke commanded them to be carried into his Cabin, and seeing no signe of life, was fearfull, that nature alone was not strong enough to give them backe, [Page 4] that which fear and their fall had taken from them. He therefore sent for a F [...]nch-man that profess'd Physick, and conjures him to employ his best remedies for the so [...]agement of the two strangers. The French-man was ready to satisfie his just request, and wrought so happily that in lesse then a quarter of an houre he restor'd to either of them▪ [...]oth the use of sight and understanding. He which had the Jewells open'd his eyes first, [...]ut be­ing not able to endure the light, shut them againe; and after divers sighs fell agai [...] into his fainting. The other shewing more vigor and courage, fix'dly regarded all those [...]bout him, and then viewing and considering himselfe, shewed by his looks and admirat [...]ns, that he had much adoe to know or recollect himselfe. The faire Turke at first sight c [...]n­ceiving a most advantagious opinion of him, and willing to comfort him in his miseri [...]s, or at least to cease somewhat his troubles and agitations. I wish, said he to him, that I were so happy to free you from that despaire which I see graven in your countenance▪ but I shall hardly see my desire effected, unlesse by your paines I may know the cause, and to teach me the means, which I must make use of for its cessation. The man who appea­red to be an Ethiopian as well by his habit as face, fell into such a showre of teares that he seem'd to powre forth by his [...]yes that salt water he had taken in at his mouth. He stopt at last the overflowing of his teares, and turning his eyes pitifully towards the faire Turke, made him understand by signes that his tongue was cut out. So unexpected a novelty in­creased the astonishment of the faire Turke, and hi [...] followers; but as fortune had got to­gether divers spectacles to make them passe from one admiration into an other; behold, the dumbe man throwes himselfe to the hanger of a Portugall which was opposite to him, and having sooner drawne it then the Portugall could hinder him, cast himselfe with an extraordinary fury on his companion which was but newly come to himselfe, and pre­sented the weapon to his throat. The faire Turke sav'd the wretches life the second time, and perswading the furious M [...]te to overcome his resentments, promising him that if they were just, they should not be left without satisfaction. The Mute was stai [...] [...] remonstrances and promises, but staid yet b [...] [...] s [...] [...] [...]ore not to snach off the chaines which his com [...]nion had about his neck, and after he had often kiss'd them, and then thrust them into his [...]me, [...]eem'd to say by those two actions, that the other had stolne them from him. The beholders gaz'd on the accused, and judging of his life by his ill aspect, no way d [...]ubled the justnesse of the accusation. The faire Turke had been of the same opinion, if he had suffered himselfe to be led by his first motives; but unwilling to commit any thing prejudicate which might be disadvantagious to the pretended rob­ber, he resolv'd to heare him before he would condemne him: He therefore (causing first not only the Mute, but all those to retire whom curiosity had brought into his chamber) came neare him, and having setled and assur'd him with that sweetnesse and eloquence, wherewithall he could both charme the most brutall, and encourage the most cowardly soules: Fortune (said he) in drawing thee from the depth of the Sea, hath justified her­selfe, and possibly 'twas done for thee to justifie thy selfe too. Thy companion accuseth thee, and if I well understand his language maintaines that thou hast robb'd him of those chaines he tooke from thee. Confesse the truth; and let not the desire of being rich bee more powerfull over thy minde, then that of preserving thy life. Thou art amongst men who make profession to protect innocence, and to chastise what is criminall; but they have learn'd by their owne weaknesse, not to condemne all the infirmities of humane na­ture. The wretch not daring to deny a crime whereof his owne conscience, men, and the very elements, fou [...]d him guilty; and besides seeing himselfe so favourably dealt withall, threw himselfe at the feet of the young Turke, and imbracing his knees: My Lord, said he, it is true, I have committed that theft whereof the Mute accuseth me: The jewells are his, if he can be c [...]ll'd the true owner of them, who for their acquisition hath violated the sanctity of the Tombes, and robb'd the dead of those riches the living had lef [...] them. But fo [...] feare you may beleeve that I will adde some imposture to my theft, bee pleas'd to have the patience to know what I am, and how I became master of this dumbe mans riches: Know that I am born from one of the most unfortunate and daring families of t [...]is Island; in giving me life it gave me both her destinies: from my childe-hood I lov'd those undertakings where there was something to be gotten, how hazardous soever they were; and without any other knowledge then that of the common sense, I thought [Page 5] it better to [...] young, then to growne old and miserable. I have travelled both by land and by sea. [...] have borne armes with the Christians and with the Turkes. I have indiffe­rently viol [...]ed my faith, and all for gaine; and yet neither by waies tollerated nor those forbidden▪ [...]ath it been possible for mee to get any thing. I was not long since with the notable P [...]at Bajazet. I learnt from one of my companions, that an unknowne Prince caused to [...]e built a magnificent Tombe in the Island which you now see; and not con­tent to m [...]e use of marble and brasse, he intermingled gold and precious stones in the structure [...] that proud building. This newes came so home to my swaying passion, that insta [...]tly I tooke leave of my Captaine and abandoned a profession which in spight of all the [...]erills wherewith it is encompass'd, may be called the delight of life. I will not tell y [...]u the dangers I ranne in returning to my Countrey. It is sufficient that you know I [...]me home but yeasterday, and that Fortune who hath alwaies delighted to feed mee wi [...] faire shewes, presented mee presently with all the treasures which I came to search f [...]. I entred into a wood of the weeping trees, which is not above two hundred paces fro [...] the Rock whence I fell, and being got into the middle, I descried the rich Monum [...]t of the unknowne Prince. If my eyes were dazeled with the luster of so much g [...]ld an [...] gemms, my minde was farre more astonished. I ranne to those treasures as to my sove [...]aigne happinesse, and conceiving designes as ridiculous as high, lost my reason so farre as to beleeve, that I could take from the great Polexander the Crowne of all th [...] Ca [...]ies. Whilst my wild imagination was painting these pleasing Chymeras, cer­taine g [...]anes and a languishing voice came from the hollownesse of the Tombe, and by the extreame terrour wherewith I was stricken, some while was stopp'd the cove­tous desire of my eyes and hands. But this vaine affright lasted not long. The ancients have expell'd this tale, and though there be no misfortune equall to mine, I did not think my selfe so unfortunate that the dead must needs come out of their graves to crosse my intentions. I came neere to the entry of the Monument, and through a grate of gold wherewith the [...]ore was shut, I saw so horrible a sight that I cannot keepe my selfe from trembling whilst I relate it to you. The Mute whom you have saved was shut with­in the Sepulchre and without doubt had newly cut [...] of a man which laie stretch'd at his feet. The Cymeter wherewith he had done this sad act, reek'd yet with the bloud that it had shed, and he transported with the horror of his murder, seem'd as he were losing his senses after hee had lost his humanity. For in lieu of benefiting himselfe by his homicide, he betooke himselfe to weeping with most strange lookes and howlings. But it is very hard for a villaine to keepe long the good motions which reason gives him. The barbarous Mute pass'd presently from one extremity unto another, and be again the same man he was. Hee made an end of the extravagant actions on the body of the dead, and though by his sighs and tears he seem'd to be exteamely afflicted, yet forbore he not to take from him a scarlet robe wherewith he was covered, and by a cru­elty without example cleft open his left side and tore out his heart. I was terrified at an act so barbarous. He himselfe that committed it, had such a horror of it, that the heart and the sword which he held fell out of his hands; but as if he had lost his sense, or had [...]raightwaies repented him of his c [...]uelty he took up the heart again, kissed it oftentimes [...] bloudy as it was, and after by his tears and cries he had given it his l [...]st dues, he shut it [...] one of those boxes which he tooke from me: whilst I was thinking on the meanes to [...] this precious heart and was measuring my courage and strength with those of the [...], I sawe him rifle the dead again, and take from him a lesser box then the first, but (as [...] thought) farre more faire and more rich. Instantly I resolved to punish this cruell [...] of the dead, and to get by a just conquest those treasures which he had purchas'd [...]y [...]hominable Sacriledges. For the easier execution of this resolution, I got mee fur­th [...] off from the entry into the Tombe, and hid mee among the trees, the better to sur­pr [...]e this Mute, and to send him to keepe company with the other which he had rifled. H [...] did not suffer mee to exercise my patience long, but out comes he from the Sepul­che, his sword all boudy in his hand, and so full of griefe and rage, that, to have underta­ke [...] [...]im, a man ought to have been no lesse desperate then hee. Hee stalk'd along fast by [...]ee, threatning by his gestures both Heaven and Earth, and his fury transporting him [...]e ranne with all his force right to that Rock from whence wee fell headlong toge­ther. [Page 6] This unhop'd for flight made mee to change my resolution & to bet [...]inke mee that this busines ask'd more cunningthen force. I follow'd him then with that s [...]iftnes which hath gotten mee the name of the best runner of Africk, and getting hold [...] him just as hee was about to throw himselfe into the Sea, I did that through avaric [...] which ano­ther would have done for compassion. When hee found himselfe stai'd he [...]ell on mee with the fury of a Lion that is oppos'd in his passage. I told him that his [...]paire was unworthy a man of valour, and how extraordinary soever his misfortun [...] were, [...] ought not free himselfe from them by a way so base & criminall. My discour [...] having re­collected him, hee would have told mee hee had causes enough why he sho [...]ld hate t [...] live, but beleeving hee did not sufficiently expresse himselfe by his signes he tooke me by the hand, and led me backe to the Tombe, where opening the go [...]den grate, and making me enter he shew'd me the body which I had before seene. At t [...]is sad ob­ject he renewed his plaints and teares, and was a long time thus celebratin [...] the fune­ralls of that dead.

I that had no other thought but to execute my first designe, was about fo [...]re or five times to ridde my selfe of him, but being, I know not by what feare, as often hindred, I got him from the Sepulchre and led him towards the Sea side, the night tooke us ere we got thither, and was followed with so great a darknesse, that in spite of a [...] my care, and all the eyes which hope and feare could give me, I was seperated from the Mute. I gave not over walking all night long, for feare of losing him: But it was already day when I found him sleeping at the point of that Rock whence you saw us fall. Fo [...] feare of wakening him, I laid my selfe softly downe close by him, and made so good use of the sleight that divers excellent masters have taught me, that nimbly and insensibly, I got from him his two chaines & the boxes tide to them. I put them presently about my neck, and to have no more to doe with the Mute, resolv'd to send him to his eternall sleep. But in the very instant, Fortune, (who had runne mad if any good had betided me) awak'd him, and made him take notice not only of what I [...]d done, but of that which I was on the point to execute. He threw himselfe upon me with a terrible fury, and in spite of all my resistance lifted me from the ground grasped me with his armes so strictly that I could scearce breath, carried me to the point of our fatall Rock, and howling as a beast enra­ged, threw me headlong with himselfe into the Sea.

See Sir the unhappy successe of an enterprise whereon my highest hopes were planted. Suffer me now to complaine of you, and insteed of asking you pardon for my faults, to accuse you for the hindring of their punishment. Why have you drawne me from the bottome of the Sea, and by a cruell pitty, given me the feeling of my miseries and the knowledge of sad fortune? Let the happy Mute possesse in quiet (since I see it your re­solution) those so ill gotten riches; but let him not possesse them for ever to my perpetuall despaire, and at least grant me the losse of my life, that with it I may lose the thought of so much treasure as was once assur'd me. The young Turke that was not ignorant o [...] for [...]es injustices, stood lesse on the ill inclinations of this souldier, then on his co [...] ­stancy and disgraces: And assuring him that if he would live well he would make him fortune; made him to reflect on the calumnies which he had invented against the M [...] and to confesse in spite of his envy, that that man had asmuch innocency as courage. It (added he) let us know the rest of his fortune, and try to drawe from him by signe [...]r writing, that which thou canst not tell me. Herewith he caus'd the Mute to com [...], with the rest that follow'd him out, and having intreated him to remember no mor [...] [...]e actions of the Canarian, besought him to make knowne what Prince it was w [...]se heart he caried. The Mute drew out that beloved heart from his bosome, and after h [...] of­ten kissing it, held it up aloft, as if he would say that it was the heart of a man in [...]m­parable. After many inarticulate exclamations he presented it to the young Turkeand shewing him with his finger the Island of Iron, invited him to goe there on shot to have a full understanding of those adventures which he could not recount to him. And when he saw that the young Turke made no more haste to be gone be feared that [...]hey conceiv'd not his meaning, and therefore to make himself better understood, he [...]oke his other boxe, and with a countenance full of indignation and sadnesse deliver'd [...]t to the Turke. He receiv'd it, and curiously regarding it, observ'd that the diamonds [...]ere­with [Page 7] it was cover'd were not only of an extreame beauty and greatnesse, but that they were too almost all graven. Upon some they might see flames which seem'd, to give the diamonds the luster which they ow'd them. Upon others ciphers of severall fashions, of Scepters mixed with arrowes, crownes of palmes, and mirtles interlac'd one within another. After he had well view'd the cover of the boxe, he opened it and found with­ [...], the Pict [...]re of a young Marvell, who by the Majesty which the Painter represented i [...] the face, made her condition to be better knowne then by the Crowne she wore on her head. The delicatenesse of her feature, the carnation of her lips, and the beauty of her colour would have made her to have been taken for a childe, but that the becom­ming fulnes [...] of her neck and brest, and the luster of her eyes made them judge her to be about fif [...]ene or sixteene yeares old. Her haire was neither too light nor too browne, and seem'd to be expresly made to accompany a face so perfectly delightfull, and highten a t [...]cture so wonderfull lively. The young Turke having been long fixed on this Picture restor'd it to the Mute, and told him he had never seene the originall. The Mute oftenstriking his brest, and receiving the Picture againe in choler made them know by h [...]s actions that she was the sole cause of the death of the unknowne Prince, The Turke [...]eing not yet well satisfied of his doubts, resolv'd to land in the [...]sland of I­ron, and [...] goe to that famous Monument to have some intelligence of the Mutes acti­ons. He c [...]uld not execute his intention, for just then a mariner which was at the scut­tle of the s [...]ip witnessing at once his vigilancy and care, cried out, Sayles, Sayles, Say­les of Mo [...]cco. These few words brought such a fright and confusion into the ship, that the Marin [...]s harkned not to the Pilot nor the Souldiers to the Captaine, and some there were who [...]ot daring to attend the death that threatned them, threw them selves into the Sea to [...]revent it. The young Turke who was the onely man that stood firme amongst the fall of [...]ll his, oppos'd an incredible greatnesse of courage to their not to be beleeved astonish [...]nt. He ran up and downe the vessell, his sword in his hand, and striking some and men [...]ing others, gave them at least a just cause of feare; and perceiving that this new terr [...] made them forget their first, and that all had recover'd themselves from that extremity whereinto the voice of a poore Mari [...]er had throwne them: Well my com­panions (quoth he) that hath hap'ned to you which hath betided the valiant'st Souldiers, and you h [...]ve learnt by a violent but short experience, that men, how hardy soever, are not mast [...]s of their first apprehensions. Certainely it should be a monstrous prod [...]gy that even [...]hose men who shew'd so much courage to obtaine their liberty, should have none wh [...] there is question of conserving it? No, no, it shall never be said that we fell vnder [...]uch a misfortune; with the same courage we broke our chaines in peeces, and in spit [...] of all the Moores resistance open'd our prisons, we should endure their brunt and reve [...]e our selves of their barbarousnesse. Without all doubt, that all migh [...]y hand which pr [...]ects all just causes, will strengthen ours; and may be that it is it selfe which brings us [...]r tyrants, that we may make them our slaves by a lawfull retribution. But whence [...]mes this new terror that I see in your faces? Hath the name now of your enemes more power over your soules then had their fetters, flames and hangmen? I am decei [...]d my companions, and am an ill interpreter of the ca [...]nge of your counte­nance. T [...]a g [...]nerous anger and an impatient desire of revenge, which heats your bloud and [...]ives you these warlike emotions. Conserve your brave fury, and consider that after we had broke our prisons, slaine our guards and got this vessell, if we should not now h [...]ve a full resolution to exterminate these Barbarians, which are desperately mad at our escape, we shall make our condition farre worse then it was before. Hap what may, let the worst come, yet let us set them a deare rate on our lives, and envello­ping them in our owne losse, make them uncapable of remembring their victory or that without teares they may never call it to memory. There was no bloud so frozen which this eloquence heated not, no mariner so fainthearted which wished not already to be at handy strokes with the enemy. Presently the faire Turke commanded them all to armes and plac'd every one in his station. The Pilot receiving what order he was to keepe in a fight so unequall, put off from the Island of Iron, and to satisfy the generous impatience of his Captaine, got before the enemies, and into the open Sea, and the ad­vantage of the winde. The eight vessells which with full sayles came on him, dispos'd [Page 8] themselves with so much order for fight as if they had been the weakest. They separated and cast themselves into the forme of a halfe moone, and advanc'd in such so [...] that they seem'd to enclose that ship which sailed foremost. This vessell alwaies kept [...]e advan­tage it had of the other seaven, and leaving them a pretty way behind, made [...] Turkes beleeve that she would first begin the fight. But they were no sooner within canon shott, when those within her strooke sayle, and by all fashions us'd at Sea, [...]timated to the Turkes, that they came not to fight with them, but to put themselves under their pro­tection. The generous Captaine deliberated not what was the most sure to be done in so dangerous a conjecture; straight granted those suppliants the assistance they desired, and advancing to shelter them, told them in passing that he would defend [...]em against all the world. They thanked him by long shouts and confused voices an [...] got to the backside of the Isle of Fer; whiist he (ravished that so many rare adventures [...]hould pre­sent themselves all at once) tooke a head peece and a buckler, and turning [...]o his com­panions; Acknowledge (quoth he) deare consorts in my bonds and liber [...], that for­tune comes fairely to reconcile herselfe to us. We thought, that to witnes [...] the conti­n [...]ance of her hatred, she would have enforc'd us to a necessity of our defe [...]ce, and be­hold, (to make her love appeare) she invites us to the protection of others. Let each of us receive as he ought her first favours; and since she is usually in love wi [...] great da­rings, shew in this occasion, that it is with justice she should now affect us▪ This said, he put his hand to his sword, and commanded his gunners not to shoot till [...]s enemies had first discharg'd. But the strangers in stead of falling all at once on his v [...]ell, ope­ned on the right and left, and let them see that they had no other intent the [...] to follow their prey that was escap'd them. The faire Turke was not satisfied with this declarati­on. He caus [...]d his ship to be steered foreward, as he ment to stop the way to [...]at of his enemies which was the foremost and greatest. Before he came close, he sa [...] appeare on the [...]oope a man arm'd at all poins, who by his action seem'd to be no or [...]nary per­son. Assoone as he thought the Turke might heare him, I have respected the said he, thinking thee one of the Subjects of Alcidiana; but thy habit shewes that I [...]s decei­v [...]d; what art thou then that being so weake dar'st undertake the defence of ohers, and do'st it without knowing whether thou mai'st doe it with justice or no? Th voice of the afflicted which cries and askes succour (answered the Turke) against the vio­lence of their persecutors is alwaies accompanied with Justice. But whence i it (quoth he) that knowing Justice so well thou do'st practise it no better, and wilt [...] on the weake, the tyranny which thy force adviseth? I impute thy injuries to t [...] g [...]nero­sity replied the other, and should be glad, if I had time, to know who thou art that sh [...]l be at an other time (quoth he) in the meane while stay me no longer, if th [...] intend' [...]t not to expose thy selfe to those violences wherewith thou reprochest me. Th [...] [...]ire [...] touched with those threatnings, and enflam'd with that fire which honor [...]ndles in young courages: No, no, said he, I cannot forsake the miserable, whom [...]aven hath given me in protection, since henceforward I am answerable to it for their [...]erties and lives. And think not that I will leave thee, till I see thee leave to pursue the [...]. For the rest learne that audacious threatnings never aff [...]ight those who know [...]ll how to chastice the authors. Thy resolution is faire replied the other, but if thy act [...]ons be an­swerable to the greatnesse of thy words, use no other arme then thine owne in this glo­rious correction, and command thy companions to be only the spectators of o [...]r combate. I assure thee, that all those which are with me shall exactly obey the order I shall pre­scribe them. The young Turke in lieu of answering him turn'd to his followers, and to oblige them to lay downe their armes; my companions (said he) you have heard the e­nemies proposition, if you love me accept it, and permitt me to rob you of that part of honor which you might have gotten in this combate. The Turkes (may be well conten­ted with this petition) willingly obei'd the command of their Captaine, and he addres­sing himselfe towards his Antagonist, why [...]inger we (said he)? See my friends are all as you desired; and in so saying came one to give the first blowe; but he was prevented, and receiv'd so weighty a blowe on his headpeece, that he knewe by this essay that he had met with an enemy such as he had often wished for. He would instanly shew what his power was, and with his full strength strooke at his enemy, who putting it by, gave [Page 9] the young Turke a second blowe. This Lions-heart considering nothing but victory, threw himselfe from his owne ship into the others, and reveng'd himselfe of the blowes he had receiv'd. He puts by, presseth on, strikes, joines nimblenesse to strength, and searcheth his enemy in every part where he thinks him unarmed. The other who was glad to finde so valiant an adversary, spar'd him, & let him not feele the weight of his arme, but in that measure where to the necessity of overcomming obliged him, yet letting fall a blowe on the head of the faire Turke more heavily then he was aware on, he made him stagger, and forc'd him to set one knee on the deck. This fearfull stroake being seene by the spectators, some grew pale, and the others, by an indiscretion of persons too af­fectionate cried out that Polexander was alwaies unequalled and ever victorious. The young Turke no sooner heard the name of Polexander but he threw away his sword and buckler, and cast himselfe at the feet of his enemy, Polexander was astonish'd at this acti­on but he was more when the young Turke put off his helmet, yes, said he, Polexander is ever without a Peere and alwaies victorious; and the rash Iphidamantus too much honor'd to be vanquished by an arme that may subdue the whole world. My Lord (said he) you see at your feet that Iphidamantus who would call himselfe the most unfortunate of men, if he had not the happinesse to be your brother. Iphidamantus my brother? Re­ [...]epli'd Polexander that cannot be, Iphidamantus is long since dead. One of a good as­pect, hereat stepping in; sir said he to Polexander, after he had well looked on the young Turke; the Prince Iphidamantus is not dead, as the Queene your Mother would make you beleeve. He was given to the Sultan Bajazet for the ransome of the King your Fa­ther. And is this then, cri'd Polexander that Iphidamantus whom I have so long bewai­l'd? Ah my deare brother how happy and welcome to me is this meeting? But (and it please you) we must not let that vessell escape, whose taking, you hindred. If I loose her you loose Polexander the same day you found him. She belongs to Alcidiana and the Pilot that governes her is the only man that knowes which way to get to the Island of that faire Princesse. Iphidamantus very sorry to be the cause of Polexanders displeasure, intreated pardon for his fault, and hearing the Prince who held him imbraced, to sigh. I vowe said he never to rest till you have recover'd that which by my indiscression you have lost. Polexander pressing him to his cheeke, my deare brother said he, I will not re­fuse your assistance, but I am afraid least it come too late, & in thus saying he commanded his vessells to steere after that of Alcidiana. They all set saile together, and that of Iphi­damantus with the rest, whilst Polexander taking his brother apart, and he who first en­tred conversation with them, understood all the adventures that this faire Prince had run through in the Court of the Grand Seigneur, and the occasion that made him forsake an Empire, where he could expect no lesse place then that next to the Soveraigne. On the suddaine the impatience and displeasure of Polexander breaking out; doubtlessely said he we shall loose the vessell of Alcidiana. Doe one thing, said he to Iphidamantus which may take effect: Goe backe into your owne ship, and follow Linceus alone. I imagine that in acknowledgment of the favour you have done him, he will stay for you if you come in sight of him. I follow him not but for his owne good as much as mine; I thinke you will find nought amisse in a desire so innocent. Iphidamantus, yeelding to the desire of his brother, went into his owne ship, and meeting the Mute whom he had sav'd, he made him understand by his signes, that he would faine goe into Polexanders ship. He asked him not his reason, because it had been so much losse of time, but set him a borde and made towards the north side of the Isle of Fez. Polexander pli'd to the o­ther side, and as he was commanding his men somewhat he perceiv'd the Mute in action of a man transported with griefe and choler. He asked him the subject of his agitation. But the Mute turning his head aside disdainfully presented him the lesser of his two rich boxes, Polexander [...]o sooner sawe it but he knew it, and taking it with a great ferven­cy, open'd it with as much unquietnesse. Assoone as he sawe the faire picture therein in­clos'd; O glorious and onely relicks of my former happinesse, said he, deare treasure, which I have recover'd after so long a losse; is it to revive my hopes againe, that heaven hath permitted me this review? O faire picture me seemes thou answer'st me that my fe­licities are returned with thee, I doe as assuredly beleeve it, as if Alcidiana had spoken it from her owne mouth, and will consult henceforward with thee as with that fatall starre, [Page 10] by whose direction I hope once to arrive at the inaccessible Island. After he had long regarded the portraict, he began to rethinke on the meanes to gaine the originall. Gi­ving then many great thankes to the scornesull Mute, and causing his ships to seperate and take divers courses, he sailing alone, the third day discried the vessell of Alcidiana. He gave her chase two daies, and mist bording her between the Isle of Teneriffe and the great Canaries. But the famous Linceus adding by his arte a new swiftnesse to his ship that was an excellent sailer, had alwaies the best of the more slug vessel of Polexander, & by favour of the night and winde, got herselfe at last cleane out of kenne. Polexander almost desperate at this ill successe, began to take on at fortune, the windes, the sea, and some­times on Iphidamantus himselfe. But being all foure equally deafe to him, they gave no answer to either his injuries or prayers. It is true that Iphidamantus employed all his care and wit to content his brother, he search'd all the ports of all the Canaries, and carried by his affection as violently as by the storme, ran within sight of the coastes of Morocco, never dreaming what punishments were there prepar'd for him and his com­panions. Whilst he thus forgot himselfe, and seemed to disvalue a treasure which was e­ver to him more deare then his life, his Marines discri'd off at sea five or six Carvells and assured him that they were of Morocco. These vessells with full sailes came upon him, and put him out of those thoughts which had tane him up since he parted from Polexan­der. He altered his course to content those that were embarqued with him; and though his great heart was not well contented with his providence; yet he chose rather to submit himselfe to this secret shame, and inward reproch, then to expose his companions to the hazard of either the losse of their lives or a second slavery. For all this, an irrevocable decree had ordain'd that they should once againe fall into the hands of the Moores, and in effect at day breake they found themselves begirt with their shipping. The Moores came towards them without shooting, and shew'd by that, that either they feared to lose them in the cloudy smoke of the Canon, or rather that they had resolv'd to take them a­live. Iphidamantus essai'd to hearten his souldiers by a second oration, and would have perswaded them that this second occasion was no more dangerous to them then the first: But they seeing themselves closed in on all sides, and hearing every where resounding the name of Enoramita, and those of Abdelmelec and Mahomet, hearkned no more to him; nor thought of any thing but how by the meanes of a suddaine death, they might avoide the long and horrible tortures which to them seemed inevitable. They therefore thought no way better then to be killed in the fight, and for this reason only betaking them to their armes, and by it shewing a minde to defend themselves, by a meere dispaire they betooke them, to what neither the sense of honor nor the eloquence of their Cap­taine could ever have produc'd from their astonish'd hearts, Upon this resolution, the Pilots presented the Moores two broad sides, and the gunners made their shot so effectu­all, that at the first discharge of their Canon, they sunck a Carvell of the enemies, and a­nother was put out of fighting. Those that were in the rest, unwilling to stay on their first discretion, so much disadvantagious to them, gave fire to their Canon, and all to ge­ther came thundering on the vessell of Iphidamantus. The fight was long and bloudy, and though this young Prince caried death and horror in every place where the conservati­on of his companions called him, yet was he enforc'd to yeeld to number, and to see his victorious armes bound, that had broken the fetters of so many miserable bondslaves. The faire speches of his victors, and the assurances they gave him of triumphs already prepar'd for him in Morrocco, no way appeas'd the hardy and generous sorrow where­with he exclaimed on the inconstancy of fortune, and yet (resolv'd to suffer the cruellest tortures) he intreated the Moores with their best alacrity to bring him to the King their Master. The Moores gave him no answer, for they heard a calling to armes, and present­ly descri'd a great vessell, which contemning the number of the enemies, came proudly to set on them. If any one travelling through Africa hath seene a great and furious Lio­nesse, fly in on the hunters, and having dismembred part of them snatch from the rest the young Lion they had stolne from her, might imagine the horror and successe of this fight. At the first, two of the foure victor vessells soone changed their fortune. The Canon of the last commers shattered them in peeces, and the Captaine leaping out of his owne ship into one of those the Moores had left, overthrew and klled whosoever durst oppose [Page 11] him. He heap'd the dead on one another, and pass'd to the vessell of Iphadamantus, and seeing him bound, and by many guarded, dispers'd the company, slewe some, and for­ced the rest into the sea. Iphidamantus would not owe all his safety to this new Con­queror, but assoone as he saw himselfe with guards, caught up a sword which some had left by him, and though he were so strictly bound that he could not free his hands, yet he made shift to place some blowes on the Moores. His deliverer unbound him, and shew­ing some impatiency in his victory, come brother, come said he let us scourge the rash­nesse of these Barbarians, who seeme to be arm'd for nothing but to oppose our designe [...]. With these words, Iphidamantus knowing the voice of Polexander, I follow your good hap and courage said he, and since I have your protection, I defie all the malice and po­wer of fortune. And ending thus, he threw himselfe amongst his enemies in immitation of Polexander, and not only bea [...]e them from his ship, but followed massa [...]ng them with such a sury within their owne, that he left none to carry newes of their defeate to Morocco. After the two brothers had by spe [...]ches worthy Christians acknowledged their [...]ictory came from heaven; they embrac'd oftentimes, and to witnesse how worthy they were to command, look'd after the number of their dead and wounded▪ Polexan­ [...]er [...]ound fewe of his missing. His brother had lost farre more, but he comforted him­selfe with this warlike reason, that a victory is not bought but with the [...] of much [...]. Polexander would have asked him, what had betided him, since they separated; when the Mute presented himselfe, not with a countenance fu [...]ious and [...]d, as at first, but [...]ling. He shew'd them two great wounds which he had [...]ough the body. O [...] Heroe pittied him and griev'd to see him in that lamenta [...]le estate, and judging by his wounds with what courage he had behav'd himselfe in the fight, commanded his [...] to take him into his care as i [...] were his owne person. The Mute smil'd hea [...] him say so, and insteed of suff [...]ing them to search his wounds, he laid at the feet of Polex­ander a written parchment, on the parchment the [...] of [...] before sp [...] ­ken o [...], and in the very in [...]ant gave up the ghost with a certaine [...] and joyfullnesse, [...] seem'd to intimate wha [...] an [...], thing life was to him. Polexander tooke up the [...] and the parchment, and [...] with his brother into a [...] as well [...]o be off [...]om [...] object of the Mute, as to [...]taine and refresh themselves. Bei [...]g alone, Po­lexander related to his brother th [...] [...] successe of his vo [...]age, and by what a visible oppo­sition of fortune, he could not [...] [...]he ve [...]ll of Lin [...]. But my deate Iphidam [...] ▪ said he, I complaine [...]esse of this my [...] enemy then I was resolv'd because in [...] [...]ing from me the most happy place where Alcidiana reignes, she hath brought me [...] others, where I may both see and serve what is most d [...]re to me [...] to that fai [...]e Prin­cess [...]. Iphidamantus gave an acco [...]nt [...] of what he had done in all the [...] ­naries, and told him by wh [...]t chance he fell into th [...] [...] of the Subjects of [...] of Morocco. Surely, said he, had you not so happily [...] for m [...] as you d [...]d, I [...] lost all hope of ever being delivered ou [...] of [...]he [...] of that [...]. I [...] sometime tell you what cause I have given him for his malice [...]o [...]; for the present we will thinke of things more urgent. Tis thought on w [...]ll [...] Polexander, let us then [...] to meet with the rest of my ships wh [...]se [...] I have commanded to be [...] Isle of Alcidiana, (I have so called the Isle of [...] since I conquer'd it). The [...] incomparable brothers presently commanded the Pilots to stand for th [...] Island, and [...] a very favourable g [...]le had soone [...] sight of the coasts of Africa. Polex [...] [...] more then two howres as it were buried in his musings, [...] co [...]ming at l [...]t [...]o himselfe▪ and finding in his hands the heart and writing left by the Mute: Let us [...], said he [...]o Iphidamantus, what that poore dying man le [...]t us. He [...] the [...] and [...] what followes.

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 end of the first Booke.

The first Part of POLEXANDER. The second Booke.

THe presence of Bajazet so hastened the embarquing of his men, that before Sunrising, all his fleet was ready to set saile; he commanded presently that they got into the road, and himself the while, who had promised not to depart without Iphidamantus returned to the Fort to take him along, and intreated him more then he had done the day before, not to hazard himself in so troublesome a voyage. Whence comes this change, said Iphidamantus? Would you fal­sifie your word to me? You have granted me my liberty till your return, do not then make shew that you repent you of it. I confesse, (replied Bajazet) my importunate solicitations offend you, and being so well acquainted with your valor as I am, it is to envie your fame, to advise your repose; with this he brought Iphidaman­tus to the Port, and shipped himself with him in a kinde of vessell, of which the English have been the inventors, and call them by the name of Barges. The fashion of these ves­sels, is very long, and streight, and doth not only give the pilots the means to governe them without pains; and the better to resist the impetuousnesse of currents, but makes them so good sailers, that there is no Gally but they outgo in swiftnesse. This brave Ro­ver got in a moment to the place where his fleet was at anchor; and having sent by his Vice-Admirall the orders he would have observed in this enterprize, by discharging a Peace of Canon, gave warning to his fleet, to waigh anchor. At two of the clock in the [...]ternoon, they went out of the road, and had the wind so favourable, that it seemed, both [...] and the elements conspired together, to ravish from the Spanyard the first spoiles of the new world. The pirats were above threescore leagues from their place of retreat, when they descried a great Ship, which with full sails held course for the Hesperides. At this sight, they made all their vessells and the Sea about to resound with their terrible shou [...]ings, and some of them even violating the lawes of their exact discipline, slipt from their squadron, and not attending the command of their Generall, advanced to attaque that vessell. Bajazet knew well how to chastice this insolence, and caused the guilty to be put into the reer-guard, and desirous himself to view and fight with this vessel, bid clap on all sailes. His excellent Ship had soon left all the rest behinde, and in lesse then two houres, came up so neer, that she was within Canon-shot of the other. Bajazet un­willing to fall on ere he had denounced war, discharged some shot over; but seeing they answered not, b [...]lieved this contempt deserved to be punished; he gave then his Gun­ners charge to shoot into the sailes, and to his Mariners to grapple themselves with the body of the ship, both his commands were executed: but Bajazet was wondrously sur­prized, when in stead of well armed Spanyards, he saw men almost all naked, and the most of them armed only wi [...]h bowes and arrowes, some had club [...], and javelines, and darts, whose points were of gold or silver, and bucklers covered with plates of those two metalls. Bajazet witnessing to Iphidamantus the grief he had to fight with un­armed [Page 32] men, forbade his souldiers to shoot; the Pirats thinking that they had not so much as need of their swords to conquer so weak enemies, thought it enough to take chaines to binde them withall. They did so, and presently leaped into the others vessell, but they were charged, and repulsed so furiously, that they were constrained to forsake their chains, and to betake themselves to their swords. Bajazet fearing, lest their choler joyned to their accustomed inhumanity might cause a prodigious slaughter on the strangers, got amongst them, and though he could not save the life of all, yet did it for the greatest party. When he had mastered the ship, he commanded his Lievtenant to search her; the Pirate went under hatches, and hearing some talke in a Cabin abaft, went in; but he was forced to stop at the entry, his eyes were so dazed with the lustre of the gold and jewels. This Cabin was hung with a stuff made of feathers, so cunningly mingled with gold and pearls, that nothing could be seen more rich or more beautifull: from the top hung a Canopy of the same stuffe, kept up by great cords of gold, and bordered with little bells, covered with Diamonds, and other precious stones: In one corner of this Cabin, the pirate espied, (lying on carpets, as fair as the rest of the furniture,) a man of twenty, or one and twenty yeers, who by his Majesty and good aspect, seemed to be the sole ornament of that place; he had two men at his feet, which made shew of an extreme sorrow, and seemed to solicit him that was half laid to think of his safety; as soon as they saw the Pirate, they made signes to him to draw neere, and getting him to kneel as they did, made him to kisse the skirt of their Masters robe. This ceremony done, the eldest of the strangers asked the souldier who he was, and who commanded the ship that fell upon theirs. The Turk answered to all his demands, and loth to keep Bajezet longer from the sight of those rarities, went out to carry him the newes. Bajazet came presently down into this rich chamber, and civilly drew neer to him that seemed to be the Master of it. The stranger went not out of his deep musing by his approaching so neer him; but on the contrary, with a downcast look, and still laid, intimated that he was sen­sible of nothing but of his secret sorrow; one of those two at his feet arose, and making a reverence to Bajazet, with a grace, that savoured nothing of the Barbarian: Sir, said he, in Arabick, he whom you see here almost dead with sorrow, is called Zelmatida, and hath for his father, the great Inca, Guina Capa, son of the Sun, comforter of the mise­rable, and Monarch of the Fountains of gold; but all this greatnesse hath not been able to avert the misfortunes which have brought my Lord the Inca, into a contempt of his life, and the hatred of himself. Bajazet pitied the fate of Zelmatida, and more in con­sideration of that, then of his great titles and magnificence, he came to him, and used some complements in Arabick: Zelmatida hearing the Pirate speak, and I king the man, broke off his silence, and made him understand by five or six words, that he was not a [...]le to recompence his courtesies. Bajazet admired the greatnesse of courage that this Prince made shew of in his captivity; and judging of his wisdome, by the little he had said, protested, that he had never seen man, who under the load of his great [...], preserved a minde in more tranquility, nor was l [...]sse dive [...]ed by the favours he received of those from whom he was to expect nothing but rigour and violence. This admirati­on obliging him to the continuance of his discourse, he [...]old Zelmatida, that his condi­tion was not changed in effect, though it were in appearance, and that his good asp [...] and vertue were so favourable pastports, that there was not a nation in the world, [...] barbarous soever, that had inhumanity enough to violate them. The Prince▪ all [...]uried as he was in his melancholy, yet answered Bajazet in such sor [...], that he gave h [...]m new desires to serve him. The Rover, yet left him as soon as he could do it with civility, and found out Iphidamantus. Coming to him, My deare friend, (said he) I profess [...] I am i [...]finitly obliged to Fortune, although shee is the cause that I have lost the onely thing that could make me happy: to her I owe your amity; and see yet, she hath now put into my power a Prince, who hath more amazed me by the greatnesse of his soule then that of his birth. Herewith he related to him all he had seen, and [...] him to de [...]cend into the Princes Cabin, I must (said he) have the content [...]ent to bring [...]ge­ther two men, who best of any know how to joyn those things whic [...] from all tim [...]s have been incompatible, I mean, youth and wisdome, a great courage, and a [...] mo­deration. Iphidamatus blushed at these p [...]ises, and not willing to make him a reply▪ [Page 33] besought Bajazet that he would bring him to the sight of a person of that excellency. They both went into his Cabin, and assoone as they came in, Iphidamantus drawing to him by his extraordinary beauty the eyes of Zelmatida overcame his long sadnesse. He rose to salute him, and shewing him to his companions, twice or thrice pronounced the word of Isatida.

These compliments were interrupted by the noise of the Pirates and report of the Ca­non, and Bajazet doubting what it might be, made Zelmatida to understand the cause of his voyage, and intreating him to rest himselfe, went with Iphidamantus, whether he was called by the necessity of his command. He was no sooner aboord his owne ves­sell then he saw whiten the sailes of the Spanish fleet, and that his owne had put them­selves in order for fight. He changed a little in the disposing of the vessells. He put some in the vanguard which were in the battell, and going from one to another, encouraged the old Pirates by the glory of their past actions, and the young by the emulation they should have to equall their companions, and all, by the assurance of victory and the greatnesse of the booty. We goe not to expose our lives for some proud and brutish Master, who lookes on, with an insensibility, the▪ losse of those who by their hazard and tra­vell secure his idlenesse, and with their bloud maintaine his tyranny. If we have the day we shall not share the profit with any but our selves, and the fruits of our fighting shall not be devoured by those that tooke no paines in their gathering. Let this pleasant thought run still in your minds; and to stirre you up to do bravely say often to your selves, that your sufferings, incomodities and wounds shall have a fairer recompence then that which is justly reserved for Cowards, who for a small pay prostitute their courages and lives. This said, he put himselfe in the front of his fleet and lead them to the combate. The Spaniards on the other side discovering this powerfull obstacle, unexpectedly, were long before they could resolve what to doe. At last seeing their enemies drawe neere, they thought they must with iron defend that gold which they by iron had got together. They soone cast themselves in batalia, and that valour which is naturall to them, being enflamed by the extremity to which it was reduced, made them performe such actions as could not be compared but with themselves. At first they stood as ready for defence, and unwilling to mingle unlesse they were inforced, fought with their Canon. Bajazet, perceiving their intention commanded that with full speed they should fall on them. The Captaines quickly obeyed, and presently sunck three or foure little ships. Bajazet and Iphidamantus went to back them, and after a furious fight Roland Ximenes was slaine by the one and Torrez by the other. The Admirall Francis Bovadilla was taken prisoner but he died the same day of the woundes he received in the fight. The combate lasted till night, by whose favour six Spanish ships got away, the rest were ei [...]her sunck or taken, and every where this cruell and brutish broode of Pirates (which have no con­sideration when they see their prey) dealt alike with those that begged their lives, and those that begged them not. The heate of the combate so long time disputed was no soo­ner cold, but Bajazet remembred Zelmatida. He found him in h [...]s ship in the same state he left him. He asked him whether he would goe; any where, (said he) where I may finde death. This answer touched Bajazet, and made him resolve to get the Prince out of that place whose solitude more fed and encreased his melancholy. He so fitly made him the proposition that streight he accepted of it, and went presently to Iphidamantus Cabin, where leaving them together, he went to take a view of his men and vessells. He had lost many, but being accustomed to the like mischances, he bethought him of those were left, and comforting them for the death of their companions, by considerations answerable to their nature, he made them steere towards their owne Island, and gave the valiant Hally the charge of Vice-admirall. The night, after this bloudy fight, had its disorders and batteries. The weather altered, and the winde grew so furious that the victors failed little of running the fortune of the vanquished. They were foure and twenty houres in a tempest, and had they been neerer the Land then they were, with­out doubt they had saved nothing of that which with so much labour and bloud they had gotten. They were driven by the violence of the winde to a desert Island scituated al­most under the Tropick of Cancer, and were constrained to lie there till the storme was past. They set saile with the first faire winde; and the second day of their navigati­on [Page 34] the tempest began againe, and made them run a greater danger then they had escaped. The bold Bajazet, for all this, forbad his Pilots to stand for the Port they came from; and beleeving that the Elements were not harder to be overcome then men, he opposed the skill and strength of his Mariners to the violence of the contrary windes, and strove to make the very storme to be part of his victory. His daring or rather rashnesse had all the successe he could desire, and after a many daies and nights striving against the tempest, he came at last within sight of his Island with all his owne vessells and his prizes. He dispatched presently one of his men to the Governors of the Port and the Fortresse, and by the same letter letting them know the fortunate successe of his voyage, sent them word withall in what manner he would be welcomed home. This being done, he came againe to Iphidamantus and Zelmatida who were walking in their ship, and thence shewed them right against his Isle two ships that plaied furiously on each other with their Ca­non. The Princes seeing they were grapled, signified to Bajazet that they had a great minde to part them. Bajazet to please them, commanded his Pilot to make up instantly to those two vessells, and comming neere to one of them, he knew her, and told the Prin­ces that she was commanded by Cid Hamet his principall Captaine. Iphidamantus dis­crying the other! O (said he) that is Polexanders ship, tis his infallibly. But Bajazet not beleeving so great and so good newes, came up to the Combatants to see if Iphida­mantus were not mistaken. At his neere approching them, he saw Cid Hamet fall. The losse of a man whom he knew to be so exceeding valiant, touched him neere and in such a sort, that casting by all consideration he threw himselfe into his vessell to be revenged. Iphidamantus followed him, and presenting himselfe first to Polexander intreated him to give his enemie his life. Polexander knowing him, yes brother (said he) he shall have his life, though his brutishnesse deserves to be punished. He might with one words speak­ing, have freed us both from a great deal of trouble we have had, and yet by a malicious obstinacy, he would neither tell me his name, nor his country. Tis the same we followed before we were severed; I found him among the Turkish ships, and thinking he be­longed to Alcidiana, used him with all the mildnesse you can imagine: But his arms and habite, made me suspect I was deceived; besides his vessell which carries for her devise the Phenix with a double A. confirmed me, that it was Lynceus, or some other of Alcidiana's Pilots, and therefore I would be no longer in this ignorance: I intreated him then to tell me who he was, but all my prayers and promises were in vain; I was therefore constrained to come to threatnings, and from threats to blowes. This Barba­rian got among the great number of vessells that fought, and put me to trouble enough to find him out; at last I espied him standing out to Sea, I got after, and have still given him chase so hotly, that I have at last brought him to that passe in which you now see him. Iphidamantus she wing Bajazet to Polexander; His Generall (said he) whom you see there, will free you of the vexation you are in, and tell you wether he belong to the Queen Alcidiana or no. Polexander gazed on Bajazet, so did Bajazet on him; and af­ter a long silent considering one another, Bajazet intimating to Polexander the great contentment he received in seeing him: Let Fortune (said he) hence forward, handle me as she pleaseth, without a murmure I will receive all her persecutions, and acknow­ledge, that since she cannot give me all the blisse I ask her, yet she hath at last given me a part of it. Yes, Polexander, you are, you and Iphidamantus, the two persons I have most wished to see, next to one whom my duty and affection commands me to set in the first place. Believe no more then (if it so please you) that it was the incivility of this Rover, which hath drawn you into these rude places, but the strength of my desires, and the power of my good fortune: For this wretch at your feet, he hath been alwayes at my command; and hath followed me ever since he was ten yeers old; and the reason why you took him for another, is certainly, by means of the vessell, which he took about a yeer since from a valiant commander, who lost his life before he lost his ship. In a trunck I found some letters, by which I understood, that that Captain belonged to Al­cidiana, Queen of the Inaccessible Iland. I ever thought (said Polexander) smiling, that fortune laughed at my credulity, and that she only gave me false hopes, but to bring me to a most certain dispair. Here with he fainted, and losing all his strength in a mo­ment, made it appear, that the wounds of the soule are little lesse dangerous then those [Page 35] of the body; he came quickly to himselfe, and taking Bajazet by the hand, in one self­same time (said he) we have had a very contrary intention, for I followed you as my enemy, whilest you searched all occasions to make me your friend. But I am now re­covered and cured of that unjust pusuit, and desire your pardon for believing you capable of an ill action. Iphidamantus here interposing; Bajazet (said he) knowes the ground of your choler, and is not ignorant for what cause you accuse him for the theft done by Almanzor. Bajazet seeing Zelmatida coming neer, interrupted Iphidamantus, and in­treated that he would present him to Polexander. Our Heroë casting his eyes on him, was no lesse taken with the goodnesse of his countenance, then the novelty of his at­tire; Bajazet told him who he was, and by what chance he fell into his hands. This little increased in Polexander a desire to know more, but unwilling that his curiosity should be uncivill, he at first offered him his service and friendship, and put off till ano­ther time, the shewing his desire to know his fortune. Whilest these foure Horoës gave one another reciprocall admirations, Bajazets messenger returned with a branch of Palm, which was the usuall token that they sent the Generalls from the Isle, when for any notable victory they had deserved the triumph. Bajazet received it, and shewing it to all his fleet, gave a beginning to the warlike magnificences of his entry: The drums, the timbrells and trumpets resounded every where. The vollies of musquet-shot answe­red all that noise, and the Canons drowned both, till they were all landed; the Gene­rall made them all go in before him, covered with their armes, enriched only with the blood of those they had slain▪ and so entring in, his Barge was followed by the Spanish vessels, as so many slaves waiting on his triumphant chariot. This pomp was short; for the nature of the Pirates, being such, that they knew no other pleasure but their private gain and prey, obliged Bajazet to cut off that which pleased him most, to do that which was most sure: He came then ashore with Polexander, Iphidamantus and Zelmatida, and went into a tent set up for him upon the strand. All the Captains of his fleet, whose wounds did not hinder their marching, came to see him, rather to glut their ava­rice, then to receive the praise of their actions. When they were all in those places they were accustomed to command, and the souldiers which were not of the guard a ship-board, were all husht and silent. Bajazet came to the entrance to his Pavilion, and thus bespoke them: It is not our custome, my companions, to be intreated to fight, no [...] do we affect the vanity of being praised for our (therein) well performance. There are some which should be forced to take witnesse of their coming off, if they were bound to justifie their being there; but it is not so with us: for as we weigh not the approbation of those that love us, so we feare not the ill tongues of those that envie us. It is here a maxime, that either our enemies have made no resistance, or that we have not fought, when we come home without wounds. Now, I look on you, and that I not only see you as brave men should be, but that I behold you reduced to the half of what you were when we began this voyage; I confesse, how great soever our victory be, we have bought it too deare. Tis true that we have Spanyards enough amongst us to take when we please, that avengement which the sorrow for the death of our companions can re­quire at our hands. Let us give (if you please) the rest of this day to survey our selves, and to take that rest which the desire of our returning to new toyle invites us to.

To morrow we will see what our valour hath given us; the slaves and the riches shall serve for a second dressing to our wounds: But I little know what your worth is, when the greatnesse of your gain shall advise you not to take at all the least part of your good fortune. Night coming on when Bajazet had done speaking, made the Captains, and all the souldiers retire into their quarters; those which were wounded got to their beds, and the rest lost the memory of all their travells among their feasts and debauches. Po­lexander, Iphidamantus, and Zelmatida staid with Bajazet, and all four taking their way to the fortresse, were there received, after the Lawes of the place had been punctually observed, Bajazet lodged Polexander and Zelmatida, as richly as was Iphidamantus, and by the number, as well as the magnificence of his lodgings, made his guests confesse that he was above the condition of Kings. This illustrious Rover joyned to the splen­dor of their lodging, the delicacy of feasting, and the pomp of sights; day and night his slaves gave the Princes new delights, and sometimes on the Sea and sometimes on the [Page 36] shore, represented sports and fights, wherein by a pleasant temper was seen the sweet­nesse of peace mixed with the bitternesse of war. These pleasures which were able to inchant sadnesse it selfe, did but sleightly sleepen the griefes of the Princes: They sighed in the midst of all delights, they had joy in their countenances, whilest despair was in their soules; and though they strove extreamely with themselves, to be pleasing compa­ny, yet the memory of their misfortunes surmounting all their complasencies, compel­led them in despight of what they could, to make their perplexities to break forth. Po­lexander, who thought himself the most unhappy of all men, and Zelmatida, who in his own opinion, was mishap it self, went every day out of the fortresse, and sought the most desart places of the Iland, to give themselves more freely a prey to the fury of their passions. Now, one day that these four Heroës were in one place together, Zelmatida suffered himself to be so much transported with his griefe, that not thinking whether he were alone or no: O Love! (cried he out) O death! how equally barbarous and cruell are you? These words awaking Polexander from his musing, it is at this very time (said he) that you must acquit your self of what you have ever daily promised; and let us at last see whether Fortune and Love are as powerfull in your world, as they are in this wherein we live. Zelmatida ashamed of what he had done, blushed, and answering the solicitation of Polexander, I intend not (said he) to deny you the recitall of my ad­ventures, since I willingly would lay down my life for you, if I thought my self wor­thy of the honour I should receive in losing it for your sake; I shall alwayes be ready to expose mine said Polexander, for the preservation of yours; but since you intend to oblige all us here, deny us not any longer the knowledge of your fortune. I am ready to obey you, said Zelmatida, on condition that Garruca speak for me, and relate to you that which he knowes better then my self. Polexander, who knew how hard a thing it was for a brave and honest man to resolve to speak of himselfe, granted Zelma­tida's request, who went presently, and taking Garruca, and causing him against his will to sit down, gave no time of quiet till he saw him in a way fit to content him. Garruca, that had no pleasure equall to that of publishing the ver [...]es of the King his Master, be­gan his discourse thus:

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 end of the second Booke.

The first Part of POLEXANDER. The third Booke.

THE generous Bajazet, witnessing to the three Princes the sorrow he had to leave them, and to lose the continuance of the marve­lous adventures which Garruca so well related; went to put on his funerall habit in which he was wont to appeare at the fune­ralls of the Pyrats. The houre being come wherein this pompe was to begin, you might have heard resound the noyse of Trum­pets and Timbrells throughout all the Island. Bajazet then cau­sed himselfe to be armed, and comming out of the Fort, went to joyne with the other Captaines and Officers, as well by Land as Sea. One amongst them read to him a List of all the dead Captaines, and in few words, made as it were an abridgement of the life of every one, and besought him in the name of the Pyrats to assist at the funeralls of so many valiant and happy Mussulmen. Bajazet, in generall, thank'd all the assistants for the honour done him, spoke of the dead in advantageous termes, and after repetition of the principall points of their lives encouraged evr'y one to contemn all dangers when the good of the common cause came in question. Bajazet finish'd his Oration just when the three Princes came to him, and concealing the true cause of their arrivall, beseeched him to bee pleased that they with him, might give what they beleeved was due to the memory of so many vali­ant men. We shall not, my companions and my selfe (answered Bajazet) those alone that rescent the honour that you will doe us, but the Soules of those that we are now interring will rejoyce at it, and if you please to add your suffrages to your presence, we doubt not but they will worthily satisfie the interrogation of the two Angells, and be delivered from the torment of the grave. Polexander understanding not well the meaning of these words, beleev'd that they were some mysterious words in the Religion of Mahomet, and resolv'd to remember them, to have their interpretation at the first conveniency. This while Bajazet put himselfe in the front of the pyrates, and so came to the place where lay the bodies that were to be buried. All things being ready at the comming of Bajazet, every one began to march in his ranke. The Captaines chosen to carry the corps, tooke their places, whilest their Talismans and their Dervises put themselves in the order they were to keepe in their marching. These Mahometish Monkes carried in their hands lighted tapers, and sung with a sad note these words. Ialihae, hillala Mehemet, ressullaha, tungari bicberemberac, whereby they would say; That God is God, that there is no other God but he, and that Mahomet is his sole Coun­cellor and only Prophet. At those words, others answered them in a different tone, and pronounced these words: Alla rhahumane ashamubula, alla illa alla huma alla. By this prayer which they make for that dead, they say that God is mercifull, that he will have pitty on the deceased, that there is no other God but God: After these Priests went divers Souldiers armed after their fashion; they carried Launces in their hands, on whose ends were the Turbants of the dead, with horse tayles. Next came those [Page 60] that carried the bodies of their companions in bieres made like square chests, and cove­red with great clothes made of cotten very white. The manner of the Mahometans is, to carry their dead to be buried the head foreward, and so were these, and there was to be seene on the fore-end of their bieres other turbants covered with feathers and com­passed with lighted candles. Bajazet, all alone followed those bodies, and some thirty paces behinde him, marched all those that had command under his charge.

The Companies of the dead Captaines followed, but in an other order then they had kept till that time. Every Souldier carried his armes reversed and witnessed as much greife as if he had been the neerest kinsman, or the most affectionate of the departed. There was one Souldier of every Company who trained an Ensigne on the ground, and behinde him came fifteen or twenty Souldiers, who bore shattered lances, broken oares, and colours of white taffata whereon there were red crosses. At last, some Moores led in their hands, very brave horses, which had their saddles turned the upside downe on their backs. All this Troupe marened very slowly and in great silence, whilst the Dervises continued the forsaid prayers. Their place of buryalls was chosen in a little wood, which was some five hundred paces from the Fortresse. As soone as the Priests were come thither, they rancked themselves about the graves and ended their prayers. The Captaines, the while set the bieres on tables right against the pits. They tooke off the clothes and boords where with they were covered, and then every one might see the dead wounde up in such sort, that they had the face and the feet out of the wynding sheet. The Priests tooke the little peeces of paper that were on the stomacks of the de­ceased, and after they had made a composition of Saffron and water of Orenge flower wrote certaine words which the Moores believe to be powerful and mysterious in their Religion. These words being writ, the Dervices hung the scrols with black silke a­bout the neckes of the dead, and said a long prayer, by which they asked from God and Mahomet that the soules of the defunct might be delivered from the punishment of the Angels. And therewith the Dervises set the bieres on the ground and with clothes of cotten let them downe into the graves, seven or eight foote deepe. They threw in some habillements and some of the colours which they bore to the interment, as a marke that the dead had gained them. Afterwards they covered the graves with many great planckes, that had been prepared of purpose, and raised on them with turfes and stones, Tombes of some six foot long and foure hie, and three in largenesse. During this busi­nesse, the Priests gave not over their prayers to obtaine of God that those dead might an­swer pertinently when they should be examined by the two black Angels. This cere­mony ended, every one departed with diverse actions of thankfullnesse, and Bajazet being disarmed on the place, returned thence, in the company of Polexander, Zelmatida and Iphidamantus. Bajazet asked them, if they were not well satisfied in the honour that those of his Religion gave to the dead. Zelmatida confessed, that the ceremony pleased him, but Iphidamantus went further, and besought Bajazet to tell him, what those Pirates did beleeve should become of their soules after death; and why they made so many prayers to obtaine from God that the dead should be delivered from the inter­rogation of the two Angels and the torment of the grave? That which you aske me (answered Bajazet) is so peculiar to the Mahometans, and held so great a mystery in their Religion, that you ought to have been bred, or to have long time lived among them, to give you an accompt of it. Yet I will endeavour to satisfie your curiosity. And though I am a weake Theologitian I dare assure my selfe to cleare you of it, since I most particularly informed my selfe of that point, when the necessity of my owne de­fence engaged me to accept the charge which I now undergoe. Know then that all those who beleeve in Mahomet, hold for an Article of faith, that the dead are liable to give an accompt of their actions in this life, and that they are to give it before two ex­treamely rigorous Judges; and those are two Angels, the one is called Mongir, and the other Guaneguir. The first carries alwaies a club of iron, the second holds with both his hands certaine hookes exceeding sharpe, and they are both black. Scarce can a dead man be in his grave so long as since we buried our Captaines, but the two Angels come. They command the dead to arise, to kneele, and to cover his body with his soule, so as during his life time his soule was covered by his body. As soone as the deceased [Page 61] hath given satisfaction to these severall commands; the two Angels begin to examine him on divers points of his beleefe, and on the principall actions of his life. That is: Whether he hath constantly beleeved in Mahomet, whether he hath endeavoured to doe good workes enough to keepe him from those black and dreadfull Countries which they call Algenas Alsaitanas. They aske him an infinity of more questions, as, whether he hath observed the ceremonies of the Zala, whether he hath been a great Alm'ner, whether he hath not failed to fast his Radaman, which is the same that the Christians call Lent. If he have paid all the dues that he owed to the Ministers of Mahomet, and in short; if he hath never broken any of the commandements contained in the Zuna of that great Prophet. When as the dead, (that hath then no more liberty to lie) hath given an accompt of his life, and that the black Angels are satisfied; They leave, and vanish from him. Presently after there appeare to him two others more white then snow that rejoce with him for his good deeds, and promise him eternall recompances. They lay him as he was before the comming of the two first Angels. One puts his arme under his head to serve him for a bolfter, the other in the same manner keeps up his leggs, and both of them guard him, entertaine him, and promise not to forsake him till the day of Judgement. But if it happen that the deceased, condemned by his owne conscience stand mute before the black Angels; or gives them an accompt like an ill steward that knowes not what he hath done with the goods that were intrusted in his hands: Mongir, gives him so great a blow on the head with his club that he alwaies carries for that purpose, that he drives the poore crimenell more then fifteen foot deepe into the earth. And presently Guaneguir making use of his hookes fixeth them on the wretch, and drawes him by force out of the ground; nor doth this exercise end, for as soone as the dead is plucked out of his hole by the one, the other knocks him in againe with his club; and so continuing this double punishment, they never leave him in rest nor ought to leave him till the day of Judgement. Bajazet giving the Princes thus to understand the secrets of so extravagant a Religion, astonished them. Iphida­mantus likewise turning to Bajazet, I confesse said he, that your people here are very charitable, and scrupulous to be of a profession, sufficiently contrary to the rules of a devoute life. You are deceived (said Bajazet, The Zuna of Mahomet gives us a privi­ledge to warre with those that are enemies to his law, and to hold for goods lawfully gotten all that we can take from them by our utmost force, or otherwise. Besides you tooke no notice that in the relation I made you of the interrogatory of the two Angels, you heard me not speake of any theft or murther. After this doubt cleered, Iphidaman­tus replied) I have no more to aske you, but I finde that Mahomet was very provident in fitting the mysteries of his religion to the humours of those that should embrace it, and so tempered all things, that according to his accommodations a man may be a great murtherer, a great theefe, and a very honest man, and altogether. It is prophanely spo­ken said Bajazet to give the attributes which abuse hath made abhominable, to permit­ted and glorious actions. Mahometans never steale. They content themselves with the taking from the enemies of their Prophet all meanes they have that might hurt them; and by a new kinde of vindicative Justice they chastice those that bandy themselves a­gainst the Law which God hath visibly sent from Heaven to the earth, and published by the mouth of Mahomet. Though by these words Bajazet seemed to be very passionate in defence of the Alcoran, yet he uttered them in a certaine negligent manner, that it made the Princes thinke he beleeved not all that he spake. In talking of these curiosities they came where they used to lodge. Bajazet, according to his custome gave the three Princes their dinner, and during the repast, related to them divers secret ceremonies which made up the principall mysteries of the Religion of Mahomet. They were taken from the table by the shouts of the Pirates, and the noise of the brazen drums. Bajazet knowing that the Princes were resolved to end the day as they had begun it, told them, that they were about the election of twenty new Captaines to fill up the places of the dead; and that there would be something passed in this meeting worthy their seeing, Hereupon Bajazet tooke his leave of them, and went to the place where all his Army attended him. Polexander and Zelmatida more to please Iphidamantus then to see things so unworthy their high and sad thoughts, went out of the Fort, and came into a great [Page 62] plaine which was appointed for the mustering of the pyrates. They sawe presently that at a signall given the Army divided it selfe into Regiments, and so stood till Bajazet had taken the whole view of them: streight after the Regiments joyn'd, and made up foure batalions. The Officers that were wont to give them the Oath, came to the head of the troopes, and after five or six words spoken made them raise such a shoute, that it lasted neere a quarter of an houre; This noyse being ended, the Sergeant-Major gave another word, and presently the batalyons marched, and in marching separated into Companies; the one halfe tooke to the left hand and the other to the right, and both of them by their evolutions, making a crescent, shut it up at last and represented a perfect ovall. Bajazet and all his officers were inclosed in the midst, while all the Captaines left their companies, and that according to their age or merit they came neere to Ba­jazet, they brought him a horse, on which he was no sooner mounted but he made a signe that he would speake. At that action all the troopes drew and pressed so neere, that men and armes touched, and there being a generall silence, Bajazet began thus: My Companions, we are not reduc'd to the cruell necessitie of that people which are govern'd by Masters that know not the Lawes, or know them but to violate them. Here neither the fantasticknesse of the Soveraigne, nor the interest of a Favorite, nor the consideration of byrth, nor the necessitie of affaires give commands to those that deserve them not: Our valour and services are the only staires by which we mount thither, and the most ambitious amongst us would think himselfe guilty of a weakenesse that he would not pardon in his owne brest, if he had had a thought to gaine his com­panions eyther by bribes or promises. But we must avow for our honour, that as there are no corruptors amongst us, so there is not one that will be corrupted. Let us this day renew so ancient truth, by the election we are bound to make. Let us give our Suffra­ges to great Services, to many wounds, and to long experience, and since the honour to command is the destin'd wages for the actions of the heart, let us fill the vacant pla­ces with those that we shall thinke most worthy. I know 'tis very hard to give a voice for some one amongst this infinite number of brave souldiers that encompasse us. But why doe we frame to our selves these difficulties? Our lawes prescribe us what to doe: If two be equally worthy of a charge, let the eldest be chosen. Those with whom their age leaves the contentment of hope, ought not to envy others the comfort of being re­compenced.

Bajazet, for speaking thus, was no lesse admired for his wisedome then he had beene at other times for his courage. All the Rovers witnessed their admiration by a certaine humming of their voyces passing amongst them; and the three Princes ravished with the eloquence of this illustrious Corsary, avowed that he deserved to be, not the Cap­taine of a Troope of Theeves, but the absolute Master of all the people of Africa. Whilest they thus entertain'd themselves with the prayers of Bajazet; he that thought on somewhat else, was dismounted from his horse, and caus'd his troopes to be ranked that they might give their voices after the accustomed manner. Every Company carri­ed their ticket to their Captaine, and every Captaine delivered with his owne (which was worth foure) into the hands of his Collonel: the Collonels were bound to put all these billets into order, and to meete together to conferre the one with the other. These cockets, being filed together, were carried to the foure chiefe of the Councell. Those Officers reserv'd none but those wherein were writ the names of the most anci­ent Souldiers, and went presently to deliver them to the Generall. The power of the Generall appeared particularly in this occasion. He had liberty to choose amongst them all, those that pleased him best, and his Suffrage was of so great esteeme, that when he had chosen them, they were reputed more old then the others, though indeede they were the younger. All these particularities being observ'd in this last election, and Bajazet neither augmenting nor lessening the age of those that were named, drew twenty little scroles where were the names of twenty Souldiers, which were mounted to the dignity of Captaines in the places of those that had beene buried in the morning. These preferrements pleas'd them all, and the news being presently carried to the ships, you might see on the one side the ayre enlightned with artificiall fire-works, and on the other darkned with the smoake of the Canon. During this noyse and confusion, [Page 63] the Generall assisted with all his Captaines went through his Troopes, to finde out those that had changed their condition by this election; but those old Souldiers receiv'd it with countenances that testified enough that they put no difference betweene their present fortune and their passed condition. Those who had beene their Captaines came and tooke and told them that hence forward they were companions. It is above twenty yeares since you gave us that name reply'd the new Captaine; besides, we that never saw you command any thing that was not just, have receiv'd your injunctions as proofes of your wisdome, and not as signes of your authority.

Bajazet admired this reasoning, and said alowd that there was great apparence, those Captaines would command admirably well since they knew so well how to obey: And therewith tooke the Baudricks and Colours of the dead one after another and pre­sented them to their Successors. Our lawes command (said he) that you make us an a­bridged relation of your life, before wee give you the last markes of the command whereto you are lawfully called. They, without any astonishment did what they were enjoyned, and spoake of things so strange, and so ridiculous, that Bajazet, as well ac­customed as he was to their manner of life, had much a doe to refraine from laughter. The rest of the day and all the night following were spent in playes and feasts. But the three Princes being retyred with Bajazet, sate downe at table; and presently after, Polexander causing every one to depart the roome, tooke Garruca and made him seate himselfe by him, and this generous Favorite knowing well what the Prince desired of him spoake thus.

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 end of the third Booke.

The first Part of POLEXANDER. The fourth Booke.

THE sicknesse of my Lord the Inca (which I may say without ly­ing was both fayned and true) was not of long continuance. His desire to revisite Isatida being more powerfull then all the vowes and sacrifices of the Mexican priests soone gave his health againe. All the whiles he kept his chamber, Montezuma was not a day without seeing him, and by a thousand different testi­monies of franknesse and affection made him see that he rather sined through weakenes then malice. And as soone as he saw him well commanded that through all Mexico, they should begin a­new their feasts and rejoycings which had beene forbidden, and willed all his Cour­tiers to call back, by new shewes and gallantries, those pleasures which the sicknesse of my Master had banished from the Court. For a whole Moneth together there was nought seene in Mexico but daunces, feasts, playes, sacrifices and other demonstra­tions of joy. But excuse me (if you please) from their particular relation, and indeede the misfortunes whereinto we are now getting will not give way for me to dwell on the description of those vaine and deceit [...]ull rejoycings. Rather prepare your selves for the recitall of more sad accidents and actions; the most barbarous, that feare, supersti­tion, and cruelty were ever able to produce. Montezuma, unbeguiled and redeemed from his old Errors by Zelmatidaes conversation, and charmed with his incomparable qualities, began not only to laugh at the predictions of his Divines, but to take no­tice of that enraged fury where withall Hismalita solicited the death or banishment of my deare Master. Yea, he had already declared himselfe for the Inca, and had com­manded the Queene his wife to esteeme of him as of his sonne, when a new accident made that poore King to relapse into his vaine terrors, and the cruell machinations of Hismalita; see how arrived this disaster. Zelmatida perceiving that Isatida was almost continually with the Queene her Mother, and that it was impossible for him to see and speake with her, resolved to get through this impossibility, and to finde m [...]anes to cast himselfe at the feete of the Princesse to aske her pardon for his rashnesse, and eyther to obtayne the continuance of her favour, or her leave to destroy himselfe in her presence. This businesse he deliberated on with Galtazis, and being not able to be hindred by the inconveniences which that Little-one could lay before him, told him f [...]r a [...]l reason, that his life was the least thing that he was to hazard to get out of his miseries. He con­cluded therefore with the Dwarfe, that one evening he would get over the Queenes garden wall, and hide himselfe at the end of a long ally where Isatida was wont to walke alone. He was not long from putting this designe in execution, but did it so mis­fortunately, that being discovered and followed by Hismalitae [...] Guard, he fayled little of losing his life. However he saved himselfe, and [...]eing certaine that he was not [Page 88] knowne, he threw off those clothes wherewith he had disguised him, and as if he had beene ignorant of the tumult he had raysed, came and offered himselfe to Montezuma. The [...]ing was surprized to see him, and presently his naturall simplicitie made him bele [...]ve that my Master was innocent of that which Hismalita seemed to accuse him. He tol [...] him that some theeves would have forced from him Isatida, and exagerating those feares which this attempt brought on him; I will (said he) give order to it, and take s [...]ch course that the treasons of my Enemies shall no more availe them then their Armes.

Zelmatida imagining that Montezuma suspected him not, besought him to make knowne what he would have done, and to repose all on him for the chastizing of the attempters. The king embraced him, and thanking him for his offer; no, no (said he) I will not hazard the defence and strength of mine Empyre for the punishing of a few traytors. Let us rest quiet, and leave to common persons these no more honorable exe­cutions. With these words he dismissed Zelmatida, and shutting himselfe up with the furious Hismalita and her cruell ministers, tooke resolutions answerable to the worth of their mindes. It was resolved (as we have seene by the events) that Isatida should be put into the Castle of the Lake, and that without making much noyse on't, they should oblige Zelmatida to quit Mexico. The night ensuing this unhappy councell, was cho­sen to put it in execution, whilest Zelmatida, ignorant of the ill intended against him, and nigh desperate with anger, and the captivity of Isatida, melted himselfe into teares, in the Palace gardens, and durst doe nothing but threaten men and praying the gods: Hismalitaes ministers tooke Isatida from her chamber, and conducted her with the Go­vernesse and the Dwarfe to the Castle that was appointed for her prison. This was not done so secretly but that Zelmatida was advertized of it by breake of day. Doe not aske me (if you please) what his resentments were, comprehend them by your owne, if e­ver the like disaster put you into the like despayre. The same day Montezuma assembled the Citizens of Mexico, and declaring to them the outrage offered him, represented to them the continuall cares and disquiets wherein he was engaged for the preservation of his estate. That nation, inconstant, bruitish and fearefull, if ever there were any cryed out that the theeves were to be pursued, and without making any distinction of persons, to punish all those that should be found guilty. Montezuma, seeing things brought to the point that he desired: I am not (said he) so carelesse of your preservation, that I am yet in an estate to feare ou [...] common Enemies. My daughters are in a place of surety, and free from running the hazard of being stolne from me, they shall enjoy all those de­lights and pleasures which they had with me. After this Declaration, all those poore people retyred, blessing the wisedome and providence of their King. These faire shewes were good enough to deceive the common route, but among men of understan­ding the affaires had another face. Zelmatida more cleere sighted, and more interessed then the rest, presently knew Montezumaes intention, and knowing not what to doe to succour his Princesse and relieve himselfe, saw himselfe brought to the cruell neces­sitie of not daring to make his sufferings to be knowne. By himselfe he wept, he sigh'd, he cursed both heaven and earth; sometimes he resolved to strangle Hismalita. Then he intended to rety [...]e to Quazmez, and to returne with a hundred thousand combatants to make good the feare of Montezuma and Hismalita, and forcing Isatida from her pri­son, to accomplish the predictions of their Prophet. But 'twas to much purpose for him to make these generous propositions, he was too faithfull an observer of Isatidaes law and will to put them in execution. It behooved him therefore to be patient, and to try if he could doe that by cunning, which he was fobidden to undertake by force. Perceiving then that Montezuma bore him not so ill an aspect that it should be taken notice of, nor so good as to obliege him to the often s [...]ng him; he dissembled as the o [...]her did, deceived that extravagant Prince, as that Prince thought to deceive him; and in the meane time strove to see, or at least to write to Isatida. To this end, as soone as twas night, he got into a boate, and hulling on the Lake, lay there till breake of day. Many a time he ran the hazard to be slaine on that Lake, and was forced to carry a great b [...]ckler to defend him from the shafts that rayned on him, as soone as he came neere to Isatidaes prison. But neglecting those small dangers, he forbore not to put himselfe on [Page 89] the Lake eve ry night, and to discover all places of that fatall? Castle. Now one night when he had resolved to goe a shore on a point of land, by which there was an entrance into the Fort, he saw comming out a man, who after he had made them retyre who had accompanied him, put himselfe alone into a boate, and began to rowe with an incre­dible swiftnesse.

Zelmatida, that had well learned that art in a very little time, followed him; and overtaking him almost in the middest of the Lake, thrust hard (of purpose) on the other boate. The man in it, growne angry by the incounter, asked my Master what he was, and why (violating the expresse commands of the King) he durst in the night stay up­on the Lake. Zelmatida, that had more minde to gaine then to fight with him, answe­red that he was of Tlacopan (which is a little Towne scituate on the banke of the Lake) and who, being about his affaires late at Mexico, was then getting homewards. The way you take, answered the other, and your language, give you the lye, and intimate to me sufficiently your ill intention. You are infallibly one of those who dared to at­tempt on the lives of the Princesses; and therewithall threw a dart at Zelmatida. My deare Master happily avoided the stroake, and in lieu of avenging himselfe; whoever thou beest (said he) that hast wronged me, both by thy words and actions, know that I resent it not, since intreating me as thou hast done, it witnesses thou knowest me not. I confesse (answerd the other) that at the first I knew you not, but I doe now, and give the Gods thankes, that their providence rather then chance, hath brought me to a place, wherein I have liberty, to discover that, which till this time I have been con­strayn'd to keep hidden. Zelmatida, thinking, he had been taken for some other, replyed, I am not he, whom thou imaginest. Yes (sayde the other) you are the very same, and your speech as well as the action lately done, is to me an infallible testimony of it. Yes, you are the worthy heyre of the great Quasmez, you are, I say that Zelmatida to whom I ow my liberty & life. Zelmatida being unable to call to mind a person that knew him so well, came as neere to him as he could, and after a conjuration to tell his name: I am indeede (said he) Zelmatida, but I remember not that I have yet ever beene so hap­py to oblige you for your liberty or life; yet I owe you both (twas replyed) how ill soever your memory be, it can neither forget my name nor fortune. I am that same Axi­aman, who, driven by a desire of glory, entred into your territories with five hundred of my companions, and from your owne hands received a condigne punishment for my so much daring. I was vanquished and taken prisoner; but I must confesse to your glo­ry, that never man so generously treated his Enemies as you did both me and my com­panions. The remembrance of it is still with me; but not daring to signifie it to you for feare of your losse, I have waited till some occasion might offer it selfe, wherein with­out fayling of my dutie to my Lord the King, I might by some service acquit my selfe of the favours you have done me.

After Axiaman had made this generous declaration to Zelmatida, he came into his boate, and acquainted him how he came to know him, and what reasons had induced him not to make any demonstration of it. For other things (said he) you are in that place of the world where you are the most feared, and I assure you, that were you knowne here for what you are, your life would have its period before the next day: but Zelmatida (said he) if my obligations to you, may free all suspitions which my byrth and condition may give you, and if you beleeve me of honesty enough to be trusted, I beseech you by the liberty and life that I owe you, I conjure you by your own safety, to let me understand what might be the cause that hath made you leave the Markes of your greatnesse, to abandon your throne, and to put your person into the hands of a Prince, who sometimes would have given the halfe of his Empire to whosoever would have brought him your head.

Zelmatida stopping Axiaman; my deare friend (said he) the beleefe that our Divines have gotten to themselves through the superstition of weake spirits rather then by the truth of their predictions, exerciseth at this day its tyranny over the councell of Kings as absolutely, as over the Assemblies of the common people. The most wise amongst the Caciques preoccupated with these vaine errors, have no more hope; neither in the a­bilities of their Ministers, nor in the valour of their Armies; but regulating all their [Page 90] affaires by the melancholy visions of their false Prophets, draw on their ruine in striving to divert it. Montezuma is not the man alone strucken with this dangerous malady. The contagion hath even reached Quasmez, and hath to himselfe made his owne happinesse [...]o insupportable, that some have beene enforced to use strong oppositions to hinder him from going out of his owne Territories to put himselfe into the mercy of his mortall enemy. The pity to see so good a Prince in so strange a phrensy hath caused me to come alone into this Kingdome, and heere makes me live unknowne. Tis true I had gone hence long since, if a cause sufficient to stay me eternally. forced me not to put all things else in oblivion rather then to part hence. And I must tell it thee Axiaman, and in so do­ing, I make thee the depositary of my fortune, of my life, and of mine honour. Axiaman hearing Zelmatida talke thus, threw himselfe at his feete, and embracing his knees, no, no, my Lord (said he) I recall that indiscreet request I made to you. Discover not so great secrets to me. Their importance makes me mistrust my selfe, I begin to feare the weakenesse of humane mindes, for it may chance that by one of those mishaps which troubles the judgement and makes the most innocent to off [...]nd, that striving to keepe my faith inviolated to you, I fall into some perfidy. Zelmatida raising up the Prince, I know Axiaman (said he) better then Axiaman knowes himselfe, and I thinke that neither hope nor feare, which can doe all, shall be ever able to make him guilty of an ill action. Heare then, deare Axiaman my deplorable fortune, and have pity on a wretch to whom both life and death are equally funestous: I am come to Mexico to seeke out a treasure which Montezuma hath stollen from Quasmez, and in lieu of finding it, I have lost my selfe. That eternall and sovereigne power, which raignes over all men, hath made me loue I­satida, and my will yet more absolute then destiny, hath imposed on me a necessity of ser­ving her all my life, and to conceive of her as of something farre more to be valued then either the Empire of Quasmez, or that of Montezuma. Axiaman, staied not to answer till Zelmatida had made an end of his discourse, but interrupted him, and said that he nee­ded to know no more of it, to be satisfied of many things that were passed, and especial­ly of the causes of Isatida's imprisoning. I aske you no more (said he) your businesse on the Lake, I have discovered that designe, and I see whither you would goe, but to cut you off from a fruitlesse labour, I will tell you newes, the most pleasant that you can re­ceive in your ill fortune, and tis, that I am the sole man intrusted by Montezuma for the guarding of Isatida. On the suddaine the Prince gave way to be transported with his first conceptions; But presently reason and noblenesse opposed themselves against the fury of those pernicious Councellors, and represented to Zelmatida, that he ought to exact from Axiaman nothing that was unworthy of either of them. He suppressed therefore in himselfe the unjust requests that he intended to make him, and sighing of­ten; Is it possible (said he to Axiaman) that you are Isatida's Guardian? I am so (re­plied he) and judge you to what Montezuma's opinion of my fidelity obligeth me. That's my despaire (cried Zelmatida) that Montezuma hath made so good an elect ion. All the waies to get Isatida are shut to me, and I may obtaine from the most brutish and cruell of all the Mexicans that which I neither can expect nor desire, especially from you. Axiaman (continued this poore Lover with a sad tone) you have then Isa [...]ida in your power, and you may when you please, taste the sweets of her sight and converse? I have that good fortune (replied Axiaman) and if the prison of the Princesse were not to me a continuall cause of discontent, I should thinke my selfe happier in keeping he [...] then in commanding all Mexico. How, cried againe Zelmatida, you keepe Isatida Ax­iaman, you guard Isatida? Axiaman interrupting him, for feare he should intreat some­what which he could not graunt; my Lord (said he) suppose your selfe in my place ( [...] you please) and wrest not from a person that can deny you nothing, till you have consi­dered, what an honest man owes to his word, owes to those that trust him, and ow [...] to himselfe. I aske nothing of you (replied Zelmatida) but that you will deplore of for­tune. I will doe more (said Axiaman) without being f [...]lse to Montezuma or to my [...]fe I will bring you to the sight of Isatida—Adde not (said Zelmatida) adde not any con­dition to what you offer. Yes, deare Axiaman, I promise to aske you nothing nor to e [...] ­terprise ought after so deare a sight. If you feare that my passion is likely to [...] me, charge me with fetters, binde my armes and hands, and let me have nothing [...] [Page 91] the use of speech. I will endure all on condition to have yet once the happinesse to be­hold my faire Princesse, and to know from her owne mouth what she hath resolved of my life: I will get me farre away from Mexico amongst places not habitable to end my deplorable destiny. Axiaman, resolute to give my deare Master that contentment; tis, enough (said he to him) I know that Zelmatida can doe nothing that is not worthy of himselfe: Be then (my deare Lord) to morrow at this houre, at the foot of the great Tower of the Castle, and assure your selfe that you shall see Isatida, if she expresly for­bid it not. Zelmatida a thousand times embracing Axiaman, and calling him as often the Author of his reviving, tooke leave of him and retired to his lodging. He could not shut his eyes all night; but to execute what he had resolved, he went out of his cham­ber at breake of day, and was at the rising of Montezuma. After diverse discourses, he fell on that of his house, and inventing to the King divers most important newes, told him, that he was called home by his Father, and that the Cacique his Uncle, by the ma­riage of his Daughter, with him, would make an end of all those differences which had almost ruined their Family. Montezuma seemed to take no great pleasure in this dis­course, and put it off till an other time. Thinke with your selfe whether this day that was to be followed by so happy a night, seemed not long to Zelmatida. He would a hundred times have made himselfe beleeve that it should be eternall; But his impatien­cies were at last satisfied and the night came on as darke and irksome as he could wish it. At the precise houre he came to the place assigned him, and without any long stay, he not only saw Axiaman come to meet him, but in the same instant was conducted to Isatida's chamber. Scarce had he strength enough to walke, joy had so much transpor­ted him; but as soone as he saw that high and divine object, the small vigour he re­tained forsooke him, and left him as dead, at the feete of that faire and sad Princesse. She wept to see this extreame constancy in a personage so deare to her; and comman­ding her Governesse to bring water, threw it herselfe on the face of her Lover. He came againe, and seeing that Isatida held him by the hand, he failed but little of losing his life indeede by this new excesse of contentment. He came to himselfe by little and little, and abiding on his knees, strove oftentimes to say something to the Princesse, but he strove in vaine. Isatida desirous to pur him out of trouble, what (said she to him) Zelmatida, you afflict your selfe for seeing me in this place, and that fortune doth not conforme her selfe to your desires. This is not the first day you have complained on her, and my im­prisonment is not the sole subject that you have to accuse her of injustice. Aske the gods for revenge; they are above her, and when they please they can take from her that absolute power, that makes her so redoubted in the world. If you entreat them with a free heart, they will heare you, but that you may seeke them as you ought, that is, with a minde voyde of all hatred, choler, and all other impurities, it behooves you to leave Mexico, and not to irritate any more by your presence, such persons as have not lesse cause to disaffect you, then they have power to avenge themselves. At the end of these words, she wept againe, and would have raised Zelmatida: But he remaining as before: I will obey you (said he) with a dying voice: Yes Madam, I will hence, and of all those injuries which I have received in Mexico, I will remember none but those which are in common with you. I forbid you that resentment, answered Isatida. What? w [...]ld you not that those who have brought me into the world, should make use of that power the gods have given them? Yes; Yes, and I will that you love them, and that you looke not on them as Princes obliged to those violences which are inseperably annexed to the condition of Kings, but as on the Father and Mother of Isatida. Go then, and seeing Ax­iaman is so much your friend, let him sometimes heare from you; and with that word she left her unfortunate Lover and retired into another chamber. A [...] (said Zelmatida) are you gone, and would you have me live? With that he fell againe as dead, and Axia­man was faine to take him up in that case and carry him to his boate. He staied with him till he was out of his fainting, and when he saw him recovered, he would have spoken something to have comforted him; but Zelmatida thinking on nothing but the good he had lost: Isatida (cried he aloud) Isatida, you have left me, and insensible of it that I am, I have not yet expired. Isatida, Isatida! What will become of me, now I have [...] for ever the hope of seeing you? Axiaman would have left him to his compl [...] wit­out [Page 92] interruption, but seeing he gave not over; My Lord (said he) Fortune, who hath tried you by prosperities, will now see whether you are proofe against disgraces. Let her know, that what weapons soever she makes use of to assaile you, she will still rest with the shame of being overcome and to have found you invincible. I invincible (re­plied Zelmatida) and Fortune overcome? Alas I give her all the honour she can expect by my undoing; and since she hath the power to banish me from Isatida; doubt not, but she is too powerfull for me to conquer. Axiaman judging that Zelmatida's griefe was too ingenious, not to draw from all kindes of discourse, causes enough to streng­then it, tooke leave of the Prince, and remitting him into the protection of the gods, withdrew into the Castle. Zelmatida remained till day breake on the Lake, and putting a shore on the caussey to give no cause of talke to any body, and staied there yet above two houres looking on the hight of the Towres of Isatida's Prison. At last, he returned to the Pallace, and going to Montezuma, besought him for leave to be gone. Monte­zuma lead him to his chamber and made him dine with him. After dinner he went to the Pallace of birds, and by the way made him a thousand offers (at least in shew) to put him from his journey. But my deare Master was constant in his resolution to be gone, and remercying Montezuma for his proffers, desired him for all recompence to permit him to depart. Since it is not in our power to keepe you longer (said the King to him) we consent, though with griefe that you forsake us. But be pleased that first we acquit our selves of what we owe to your valour, and yet enjoy your company three daies longer. Zelmatida told the King that he would obey his command. Thus his departure was resolved on, to be the third day, and Montezuma tooke for a colour of this stay, the new honors he would doe to Zelmatida. Tis true, that during those three daies, my deare Master was served as if he had beene King of Mexico. The Grandies of the Kingdome came in ceremony to visit him, the people went all in a crowde, and after they had thanked him for all that he had done for the safety of Mexico, presented him the most rare things that either Art or Nature had bestowed on that rich Province. Montezuma and Hismalita added to these Presents, others, rich enough and precious to glut any man that had pined for Gold, Pearle and Diamonds. All these apparent favours were so ma­ny punishments to Zelmatida. He did nothing but sigh all those daies, and nothing com­forted him, but the hope he had that after his departure, Isatida should have more milde and kiude usage. The night following, the third day being come, he would yet once more see the Prison of the Princesse; and to that end put himselfe alone on the Lake; and when he perceived the Castle through the darkenesse; faire Pallace (cried he) place, sacred by the presence of the most perfect creature that Heaven ever shewed to the Earth, be more faithfull then they that unjustly possesse thee. Keepe the treasure which I leave thee, and know, that her preservation is thine owne. If thou chance to consent to the falsenesse of thy Masters; I will returne in spite of all Mexico, to chastice thy disloyalty, and to bury the pride of thy Towres and Pavilions underneath their owne ruines. From this transport he fell into another. He repeated the name of Isatida hun­dreds of times. He called on Death as often, and I doubt not but he would have given that to himselfe, if he had not feared to disobey the Princesse. At last, the day of his de­parture arriving, he tooke leave of Montezuma, and went out of Mexico accompanied with all the Court and the most part of the people. He went to lodge at Tlacopan, where he was received as he had been the King, and the next day (followed by two men that Tumanama had left him, and fifty slaves to carry his baggage) he tooke the way of the Province of Cotosta which is fifty Leagues from Mexico towards the East. He had already travelled two daies and two nights, when he fell into an ambuscado which infallibly Hismalita had laied for him. He was assailed in a vally by a great many theeves, and enforced to use all his endeavours to defend his life. Tumanama's two men were there slaine, and fifteen or twenty of his slaves. He himselfe there received divers sleight woundes, but he did such things in this encounter that are beyond humane beleefe and went beyond the force even of Giants. After neer a whole daies resistance, he became Master of the field, and retired into the next Village with the remainder▪ of his Traine. He was compelled to abide three or foure daies there, that he might not anger or inflame his woundes, but he underwent in that place a greater hazard then he escaped in the [Page 93] field. Two nights together his lodging was beset by unknowne people, and assayled with so much fury, that but for the helpe which the Inhabitants brought him, it had beene certainly mastered and entred. These last assaults causing him to reflect on the first, he judged they could come from none but the expresse command eyther of Hisma­lita or Montezuma, and by consequence that he could hardly avoide Death. His high courage made him respect this danger as he was wont to doe others, and made him re­solve to surmount it in making shew that he contemned it. He came forth therefore in the open day from his lodging, and buying some slaves in stead of those he had lost, gave the Inhabitants of the Bourg to understand that he had not gotten himselfe so many Enemies, had he not saved all Mexico from the fury of the Theviciens and other Rebells.

Those few words wrought such an Effect in the mindes of those Mexicans, that they all went into the field with him & left him not till he came to Cotosta. Tendilly who was Governor thereof for Montezuma, came forth to meet him, and did him so many ex­traordinary honors, that if Zelmatida had been capable of feare or suspition, he might well have doubted that Hismalita was contriving some new plot on him. And indeed his Death had been unavoydable if the very party who was to murther him had not preferred the life of this Prince before the hope of a great fortune. He came into Zel­matida's chamber whilst he slept, and awakening him, my Lord said he arise and save your selfe, there are here twenty men sent to kill you. The Prince, casting himselfe out of his bed, tooke a Javelin which he carried as he travelled, and turning himselfe to the stranger; where (said he) are those traytors. Doe not stay nor amuse your selfe (replyed the stranger) by fighting with them, but follow me, and know that thou hast not a greater Enemy then our Governour. Zelmatida beleeved the man, got out of Cotosta without giving notice to his slaves, and forsaking the common way, slipped yet once more from the rage of Hismalita. He got into the Deserts of Calcicoëca with his guide. Ten or twelve of his slaves escaping the hands of Tendilly, fled from Co [...]osta, and ignorant what way to take, followed the first that they sawe. They were yet so fortunate, that without any such intention they came to the Port of Calcicoëca. They had not beene there two houres as they told me, when I arrived with the first vessell that touched the firme land of our world. But be pleased to let me make a necessary digres­sion to cleare you of some things which doubtlesly you have stumbled at; and that lea­ving the Inca my Master in the Deserts of Calcicoëca, I relate to you my adventures. Although I speake Arabian, yet was I borne at Cusco, and sonne of the I [...]ca Mi [...]raïc the last of the brothers of Tupac Inca Yupanquy, Soveraigne moderator of the Empire of the Incaes. Nature bestowing on me nothing good but an incredible desire to see o­ther countries then mine owne, and other manners then those of my country-men; I stole from Cusco at the age of seventeene yeares, and went thence with certain Mer­chants which traffiqued along the coasts of Chily. We were driven from the land by a tempest, and after we had beene above fifteene dayes at Sea, we were shipwracked a­gainst a desert Island which is farre from the maine Land. Those that could save them­selves by swimming got to the Island, but finding it Desert and not inhabited, they saw well that they had not escaped their first shipwrack but to fall into a second. Of twelve that remained of us, sixe died in foure daies, and the two next dayes ensuing, five more followed them. When I sawe my selfe alone, and equally depressed with griefe and hunger, I ranne to the top of a Rock to find within the waves the end of my afflictions; but at the same time I descryed a great vessell in full sayle comming right to me. I gave the gods praise for so unhoped a succour, and descended to the haven to meere it. That ship had great sayles made of Palme-leaves, and many huge Anchors of wood, and seemed so unwiedly and heavy, that it was scarcely shooke by the Tempest. It came at last into the haven, and I presently besought the ayde of those were in her, and by signes having made them understand the wofull estate into which I was brought, I got them to succour me.

They tooke me very humanely into their vessell, and after they had given me to eate asked me the name of the Island. I made knowne that I was throwne on it by a tempest, and that they should not finde therein eyther man or beast. They were it seemed very [Page 94] much grieved at it, and abode all the rest of the day in their shippe, not knowing whereon to resolve. At last they put to Sea againe, and taking to their first course, were more then thirty daies without seeing land. They arrived the three and thirtieth at the Island Junagava, and being knowne there, made a solemne Sacrifice on the Shoare, and a feast to all those of the Island that would be assistants. I learnt in a small time the langu [...]ge of my Conductors; and understood that parting from a great Island called Ja­pan or Japon to traffique to the I [...]es of Zebut, the Tempest had driven them to that where they found me. They set sayl as soone as they could to get into their owne Countrey, but as they were within sight of Zebut, they were descryed by a Pyrat of China called Ocya Acem. He set on them, tooke them, and putting all in chaines, stee­red on for China, and there sold them, and me amongst the rest, and by that misfortune I saw that great Empire, which to say truely is farre more rich and admirable then the Inca's. Twas in that delightfull Countrey that fortune began to be weary of afflicting me. I there recovered my liberty which I had lost, and the charity of that Nation was so great that in lesse then two yeares I was Master of six great shippes, which the Chine­ses call Juncks. I got from the Governour of the maritine Townes a permission to traf­fick to Liampao and other Ports. I was acquainted in sayling with the Portugalls, and their communication, causing me to remarke in them a subtlety of wit, a politenesse and valour which I had not met with in any other Nation. I gave my selfe over to my in­satiable desire of travell, and resolved to see that Countrey which bred so generous a people. I therefore sold my Juncks and my Merchandize, and putting all I had into golde and pearl, I embarqued my selfe with a Portugall called Duart Tristao, and sawe all pla­ces of the east Indies where the king of Portugall is Master. I stayed some time in the stray­tes of Meca, and during my abode there, I bought two Arabians, who taught me the lan­guage I speake, and gave me the knowledge of the Empire of the great Signior. I pas­ed by the fortresses of Diü and Goa and finally arriv'd at Lisbone. I was presented to the great King Emanuel, and abode two whole yeares in his Court and that of Ferdinand and Isabella kings of Castile and Leon. It was there that I understood how a Genovois called Christopher Colombus had discovered a new world, and by the description they made to me of it, I knew it must needes be the same where I was borne. Presently I was touched with a desire to see my deare Country. I therefore put to Sea with the sonne of that happy Genovois, and arrived with him in the Island of Hayti, he gave me a vessell to goe to that of Cuba. After that I had stayed some time there and learnt the customes and language of the countrey, I returned to the young Columbus and by my intreaties obtained from him a pretty good ship, but it had not any Cannon. I embarqued with an intention to get into mine owne countrey, but the winde drove me to the Port of Calcicoëca, a little after that the slaves of Zelmatida arrived there. I humanely received them, and understanding their adventure, put what they brought in a place of safety. I asked them news of the kingdome of the Incaes, when loe a great noyle comming from the land broake off our conversation, and made me come out of my Cabin to discover what was done on shoare. I saw two men pursued by a­boue a hundred, and defended themselves against so great a number. The tallest of those two hardy combatants made shewe of an extreame valour. I sawe how he ming­led with those that followed him, and dispersing them by his incomparable blowes, gave not over killing till he was call'd back by the cryes of his Companyon. But what need I tell you all that passed on this occasion? Tis ynough you know that Zelmatida was the invincible warriour who alone fought with so many madde men. The inequali­ly of his combat, and the desire to assist so valyant a man, drewe me out of my vessell. I landed with thirty of my mariners, some arm'd with weapons of fire and the rest with halberds and pikes. I march'd right to the murtherers, and gave a discharge so to the pur­pose, that my musketiers shot downe twenty of them, and so terrified the rest, that they tooke themselves to flight. But their Leader who was the same Tendilly of whom I have before tolde you, compelld them to returne to the charge. When I saw that they came on againe, I came neere to Zelmatida, and presenting him one of the two swords which I had brought: Inca (sayde I to him) not thinking to speake so well, avenge thy selfe now of these Barbarians, and knowe that in employing this iron [Page 95] which I put into thy hand thou shalt give as many deaths as blowes. Zelmatida admi­ring the new weapon, would faine see whether it had as much virtue as lustre. He cau­sed ten or twelve of my musquetiers to advance, and putting himselfe in the Front, went to meete Tendillyes Souldiers. He strooke at the first, and seeing with what faci­lity his sword entred the bodies of his adversaries, beleeved it to be some inchaunted weapon. The Traytor Tendilly was in the midst of his Company, who cryed out that they should lay holde on that mortall Enemie of Montezuma, and the future Destruction of all Mexico. His souldiers, affrighted with the shot, gave no eare to his cōmands, but imagining to scape death by getting further from the harquebusiers, they tooke no heed that the fatall bullet strook them as mortally a far off, as neer. Zelmatida angry to have so good armes and finde so poore resistance, ranne to Tendilly, and comming to him, al­most strooke off his left arme with one blowe of his Sword. Tendilly fell downe, and asked his life from Zelmatida. The Prince seeing him in so ill a case; keepe it (said he) since thou lovest it so well, but learne to make better use of it. He presently left him, and turning to me, whoever you be (said he) whether man, or god, who are come to assist me with armes sufficient, not only to exterminate these poore theeves, but all the men in the World; make an end of what you have begunne, and taking me from a place wherein I have as many Enemies as Montezuma hath faithfull Subjects, deliver me from this vexatious necessity, eyther of losing my selfe, or destroying of others: This speech, full of judgement, joyned with the brave aspect of the speaker, and the brave actions he had newly executed, assured me that Zelmatida was something more then a man. I told him that I had a ship in which he might imbarque himselfe, and by that meanes be secure from the fury of so barbarous a Nation; and there withall shew­ed him my vessell. He left his Enemies, who had no minde to stay him, and giving them the honour of the field which he had wonne, marched towards the Sea, and we all presently went aboord. Those which I had before taken into my ship, no sooner saw Zelmatida, but that they beganne to make great shoutes of joy, and threw them­selves at his feete. He praysed their fidelity, bewailed the death of their companions, and promised to reward their affection. Which done, he turned him to me, told me his name and his quality, and in few words acquainted me, why he had been pursued by the inhabitants of Cotosta. Hereupon I commanded to weigh Anchor, and by the favor of a fresh gale, our vessell got from the shore.

I demanded of Zelmatida whither he desired to goe; he answered me that he could wish to get to one of the Ports of the kingdome of Quasmez, and told me, that if he deceived not himselfe, we might come thither i [...] coasting the firm [...] land of Mexico. I commanded my Pilot to take that course, but the winde that most commonly opposeth Navigators, drove us farre into the Sea; and after a voyage, or (to say true) a tempest of many daies, made us luckily enter into an arme of the Sea, which like a great channell opens into the Isle of Cuba, and makes a safe harbour against all windes: we gave thanks to the gods for so wonderfull a deliverance, and strove to get to a kinde of fo [...] that we saw at the bottome of the haven. Before we could get to it we were discove­red by those that were there in guard, and we presently saw all the shore ranck [...]d with Souldiers, who with their arrowes strove to keepe us from landing. Zelmatid [...], wea­ry of the Sea, and remembring the discourse Galtazis had with him about the imprison­ment of Alisma, resolved to get a shore, and if it were possible, to free that [...] prisoner. The armes which I had given him, answering the greatnesse of his courage, made him thinke no enterprises difficult. He therefore threw himselfe into the water, with all those of us that were fighting men in our shippe, and by his wondrous valour, we got to be Masters of the landing place. The Savages were beaten back, and forced to shut themselves in their Fort. Zelmatida [...], the s [...]me day, assayled it and carried it in lesse then two houres. One part of the Garrison was taken, the other slayne, and their Captaine, loaden with chaines, brought to Zelmatida where he was retyred. Thi [...] Islander, having fixed his eyes long time on my deare Master; 'tis pitty (said he) that we have thee not for our Cacique, or that we were not borne thy Subjects. Zelmatida was much pleased with the boldnesse of his Prisoner, and retayning him, commanded his companions to prison. He asked him divers questions, and found that [...] answered [Page 96] all with good sence and judgement. At last he asked him what he was; the other reply­ed that he was a Mexican borne, and noble by his condition, Tecuitli an affectionate servant to Montezum [...], and by his command establishd Guardian and Captaine, of that place, vnder the direction of the great Cacique of Cuba. I have well noted there was something great in the said Zelmatida. I doe not demande thee what important cause hath made thee an exile in this Iland; the knowledge I have of Montezuma's affaires, gives me already all that which thou canst instruct me in. Ha, (sayd the prisoner) who ever thou be that hast had the honour to enjoy the glorious light which parts from my visible God; how comes it that thou turn'st thy armes against those that are borne the Slaves of his greatnesse? Thou shalt knowe the cause another time, answered Zelma­tida; for this present, thou must tell me where the Prisoner is whom thou hast kept these many yeares. The Mexican made him no reply to that question, but throwing out a prodigious cry caught up my Sword, and turning it on himselfe had dyed on it but for Zelmatida. The Prince taking notice of his great loyalty, live (sayde he) and pre­serve to Montezuma the faith thou hast sworn him. I will have intelligence of what I search by some other way. In the meane time, thou art free and maist either stay with us, or be gon, if thou think'st us unworthy of thy company. How unfortunate am I (cryde the Mexican) to have so great an obligation to the Enemies of my king? but I will not betray my faith (sayde he) turning towards my deare Master, nor yet abuse thy noblenesse. Zelmatida more and more ravisht with the mans brave mind, tooke off himselfe the cordes, wherewith he was bounde, and offring him his hand, I will not force thee to love me (sayd he) but if thou knewst how I have been treated by Mon­tezuma and Hismalita, thou wouldst seeke Masters more worthy to be served. We must accuse for their faylings (sayd he) their condition rather then their nature. They sinne of custome innocently and to betraye them because they reward not our fidelity is to reproach the Gods that they knowe not how to make a good c [...]oye of those that should be their Lievtenants. Zelmatida desirous to try whether he could drawe any thing out of him, but (sayde he) it is no great matter of fidelity to conceale things al­ready known. There is the lesse reason to aske any thing of them, replyde the Mexican, howsoever never hope to get from me that which I am bound to conceale. Thou art Master of that which we have so long time and so carefully kept, and thou must now bethinke thee what thou wilt doe with it. Zelmatida let him goe when he saw there was nothing to be had from him, and beleeving for certaine that Alisma was shut up in that Fort, intended to deliver him from his long captivity. The night hereupon a­proaching, he caused divers branches of Trees to be lighted, which in that Isle serve for torches, to begin his search withall. He tooke himselfe an exact review of the Fort [...]esse. There was neither Covert, Cabine, Place nor Corner, which he looked not into.

He had already gone round about the Fort, and already feared that all his paines would be to no purpose, when he saw arise out of a place under ground, a great num­ber of little fires, which having stirred a while about in the ayre, cast themselves into the forme of a crowne over his head, and as if they had beene aff [...]ighted at his sight, de­scended with a noyse, and so re-entred the place from whence they came. Zelmatida, astonished to see so many flying lights, turned him towards me, and asked me what this prodigie meant? Nothing, but what's happy (said I) but if you will follow my advice, command those to be gone that beare the lights, and follow those guides that offer you theirs. My deare Master tooke my councell, and throwing himselfe first into the vault, saw all as light there, as if it had beene full of torches. He sawe nothing in it but those wandring fires, which after they had made many rounds, fixed themselves at last to the roofe of the Cave. Zelmatida this while went from corner to corner to finde some doore, and searched so neerely, that at last he found one cut out of the Rock. This dore opened not inwards, nor outwards, but moved downewards and was sustayned in the midst by two Tampins of the stone it selfe, which kept it equally ballanced; He thrust it accordingly, and presently all those little fires, came off from the roofe and entred by that opening. He followed them, and finding a little round winding stayre cut out of the Rock, would needes see whither it lead. He descended it by the light of his flying [Page 97] guides; and when he was come farre downe, found a square roome, and thought he heard one lamenting. He turned his eare that way the voice came from, and saw at one of the corners of that dungeon, a man laid on the Earth, which had his two legs put through two silver rings, his body gyrt at the middle with a great chayne, and his armes bound behinde him. This object, which could not be seene without horror, moved the King to pitty. He came neere, and looking earnestly on him, saw in his coun­tenance somthing that was both Heroick and venerable. This constancy increased the Kings compassion, and wrought in him a desire to free him from so cruell a Prison. He asked him whether his name were not Alisma, and whether or no the Rebells of Quito had not sold him to Montezuma? At these words the poore captive lifting up his eyes, gazed on Zelmatida as on his Releaser; who ever you be (said he) who by your aspect & language seem not to be of the number of mine enemies, & who already knowmy name and fortune; beleeve it 'tis not without the particular providence of the gods, that you have beene brought hither. Thy continuall showres of teares hath moved their good­nesse, and since I have alwaies beleeved that they were not in heaven but to recom­pence the good works that were done on Earth, they make me this day see that I was not deceived, and that I should not die with the griefe of being faithfull to my Master. It is above fifteene yeares that I have lived (if to die a hundred times in a day be to live) under the weight of those chaynes wherewith you see me loaden, yet all the extremity of those tortures which my hangmen hourely renew, hath not vanquished my patience, nor make me discover those secrets wherewith I was intrusted. I cannot tell you by what miracle my Soule hath beene able to endure in a body so afflicted as mine, since I have had none other foode then a little Maiz and water, and some ill fruites which twice a day I am forced to eate, by the souldiers of this Garrison. But what misfor­tune would be comparable with mine, were it not for the company that these little Cu­cuyës have afforded me, who more pittifull then men, come in to me as often as my keepers doe, and mingle their living lights with the obscuritie of this Dungeon. And you O the only man whom I have seene since I have beene in the power of Montezu­ma, if you feare the gods, and take pleasure in well doing, tell me by what force or cunning you have beene able to enter this place so strongly fortified and guarded. My Father (answered the King) I fled from the persecution and ambushes of Montezuma, when a tempest threw me in the Port. I have beene so fortunate, that I presently delea­ted the Garrison, and made my selfe master of the place. Most certainly tis the gods, who as you told me, mov'd with your teares, have vouchsafed to avenge you on the in­humanity of the Mexicans and their complices. This resolute old man, finding I know not what remainder of joy, which the length of his afflictions had not been able to con­sume, assured my deare Master, that he never despaired, but that he hoped yet to make the Rebells of Quito, and the ambitious Mexicans to feele what a just indignation could inflict on them.

Whilest he spoake thus, the king handled his chaynes and tryde to undoe them, but seeing he could not doe it alone, he commanded me to put to my hand and to helpe breake them. We did it by the meanes of some instruments we sent for, and set the ge­nerous Alisma at liberty. The long time which the good old mans legs had beene ham­pered, and, as it were, shortned in his fetters, would not permit him to make use of the liberty was given him. It was impossible for him not only to walke, but well to stand up. Zelmatida, perceiving his weakenesse, held him up on the one side, and my selfe on the other; wee helped him up the stayres of his prison, and carried him to the Me­xican Captaines lodging. As soone as the violence of his payne was lessened, and gotten out of his fainting, occasioned by the change of ayre, he asked for something to eate. Zelmatida gave him of the best he could finde to comfort his heart; when his body, weakened through fastings, watchings and tortures, was somewhat strengthe­ned by those sweete and nourishing remedies, he fell asleepe and continued all the rest of the night in such a repose as was a very new thing to him. Zelmatida lay downe all clad, on some coverlets he sent for from the shippe; and awaking every foote, some­times to be informed of the old mans health, and other whiles to know what was done in the Fort, remained till breake of day without giving any intermission to his disquiets. [Page 98] He then arose and went with five or fixe souldiers to take a view of all places where there were put Centinels. He met the Mexican Captaine, who was has [...] [...] [...]king on a high bastion, and ruminating all alone the bitternesse of his pre [...]ed [...]. He told him that his silence and fidelity had not the successe he promised him [...], and that he would no more aske him the reasons which oblieged Montezuma to cause th [...]t place to be so guarded. I know, answered the Mexican, that your curiosity, or to say better, the justice of heaven hath gone beyond the care and providence of my King. Alisma is no more a prisoner; and this brave personage, who hath beene alwaies an example of that faith which we owe to our Soveraignes; knowes by his ow [...] experi­ence, that those which continue loyall are never unfortunate. At that word Zelmatida interrupting him, since (said he) you have Alismaes virtue, hope for his fortune, but we will not exercise your patience so long as some have done his. You may at this in­stant enjoy your liberty, which he hath not found but after many yeares of imp [...] ­ment. With this he left the Mexican and returned to us, where he found the magnani­mious old man awake, and speaking to him with as much [...]espect as if he had spoke to his father, asked him how he had passed the night. So well (answered Alisma) that me thinks I have recovered all my former strength, and that I now want nothing to renew the wa [...]e with the traytors who have involved in the same ruine the great Guina Capa, and the splendor of the Empyre of the Incaes. Whilest he spake thus he had his eyes fixed on Z [...]matida, and found in his face I know not what resemblance, that brought on him an universall trembling. Zelmatida tooke notice of that agitation, and fearing some sicknesse in Alisma, intreated to know if he desired any thing that might comfort him. My sonne (answered the old man) the best remedy you can give me, is to tell me who you are. Father (replyed Zelmatida) to my great griefe, I can make you no an­swere to that question. I know not who I am, though some have assured me that I am the sonne of a king. The great Quasmez, Prince of all those lands which extend them­selves from the deserts of Quito, to the Mountaine of Popocampecho hath bred me up as his successor. Yet within this little while I have understood that he is not my father. A [...]er that Zelmatida had in few words told him as much as he knew of his owne byrth, and that he perceived the old man would know more, he continued his story, as I have related it to you, and declared to him all that which had betided him, even to the very houre he delivered the other out of prison. Alisma, hearing these brave adventures, fell on his knees as feeble as he was, and lifting his eyes and hands to heaven; I give thee thanks (said he) who ever thou be, that presidest in the government of the World. Hu­mane understanding certainly hath too little extent to dive into the depths of thy wis [...] ­dome, or [...]o know the meanes thy justice useth, to cause all miscreants to fall into those punishments which they worthily have deserved. The good old man after he had en­ded this deede of Pietie, arose with the helpe of Zelmatida, and then stood a while silent.

My deare Master, who had an extraordinary care of him, made him then take some repast, as himselfe did, to resist those griefes and disquiets that continually vexed him. This little meale ended, Alisma would try if he could walke. He therefore stood up, and leaning on Zelmatida and my selfe, found that he sustayned him a great deale bet­ter then he thought. He made five or sixe turnes to use his feete, and finding strength e­nough to goe wi [...]hout any helpe, he tooke Zelmatida by the hand and intreated him to walke forth. My deare Master followed him, and fitting his pace to the old mans, brought him to take the ayre on a bastion. As soone as they came there they sat downe, and Alisma, then looking on Zelmatida, but looking on him with teares in his eyes: Alas (said he) had not the rage of the Barbarians murthered the king my Master, and [...]ore cruelly slaine the Queene his wife, and the childe she went withall, the Empyre of the Incaes doubtlesse had had a Prince of your age succeeding in Guina Capa, and with him an a [...]uted hope to be more flourishing then ever. But that you may know in order my countries misfortunes, and that compassion and noblenesse bind you to take share in my griefes, and by consequence in mine intentions; I will tell you some parti­culars which were never knowne to any but the great Guina Capa and my selfe. I am an Inca by byrth, and sonne of the valiant Sayri Tupac, brother of the victorious Yupan­q [...]y. [Page 99] I was the first that with Armes entred the Kingdome of Q [...]ito, when Yupanquy intended to conq [...]erit. I have alwaies commanded his Armies there, not only as long as he lived, but also when the invinci [...]le Guina Capa succeeded in his Empire. Some other time I will relate to you the different and cruell adventures of that warre; let it suffice for the present that you know how Guina Capa after he had brought the Sava­g [...]s of Q [...]ito to sue for peace, and had granted it to them, he retired to spend some daies in a strong place which he had built to hinder the excursions of his enemies. In that place I commanded, and after the treaty was come thither with part of my forces. The next day after my Princes arivall he intimated that he had deepe secrets to communi­cate, and therefore bringing me to a place where he could not be heard of any, he spoke to me in this manner. You know Alisma with what affection I have alwaies desired that nothing should passe in all my commands, either for the affaires of peace or businesse of war, but that you should be privy to it: and for my part I know with what affection you have alwaies been industrious for the good of my Crowne.

These two things, that is, my love and your fidelity have invited me to cast mine eyes on you, as on one who are to be my successor in case the Sun our Father permit not my Children to fill the T [...]rone of their prdecessors. I know the Queene my wife is with child, and that she may be delivered of a Son, for which, tis possible, our visible god hath heard both my vowes and yours. But what cause soever I have to rejoyce, I misse not some interior motions that seeme to presage the deliverance of my wife shall be deadly to her, my selfe and the child. If you knew me lesse then you doe, I should feare least you might have some ill opinion either of my judgement or courage: but I know you will take nothing from the estimation you make of them both; though the fearfullnesse that shewes it selfe in my discourse may seeme to perswade you that I am no more my selfe. I feare not death, Alisma, nor need I other witnesse then you. I have long since prepared my selfe for whatsoever the gods are pleased I shall suffer. Yet since providence is a virtue, that makes us no lesse famous then our valour; I desire to set my affaires in order, and by an establishment which may pr [...]serve my estate and name, expect what is to come with that tranquility which cannot be disturbed or alte­red by any good or sinister fortune: In a word, Alisma, my brother and son, I will or­daine you my successor, and by a publique Act binde all the Incas and people that obey me, to acknowledge you for their Sovereigne. But I give you not this Present with­out the thornes which are inseparable from it. I mean, that you shall never pardon those people whom I lately subdued, if they ever goe about to shake off the yoke they have received, or attempt any thing against the oath they have made me. Guina Capa made me this speech with a great quiet of minde, and putting into my hands the royall Javelin which he carried in all ceremonious actions, commanded me to keepe it well. Tis not without cause said he that I charge you to have care of it, for I would have you know that on it depends the fortune of my Son, if I have one; that of my Wife if she survive me, and your owne if you become my successor. I did a [...] that possibly I could to put from this good Princes minde those (as me thought) vaine imaginations: But alas, they proved soone after to be too true. He was but a little while to recreate him­selfe in the place of my command, but after he had a hundred times embraced me, his eyes full of teares, went thence to have the peace proclaimed and get to the City of Quito which he had made choice of for the Queen's lying in. O Peace! More bloudy and sad then the war had been! O abhominable brutishnesse of a Nation more wilde and inhumane then either Tigre or Lion! Can I remember thy cruelties without put­ting my selfe into the number of so many valiant men whom thou hast destroyed? But I vainely complaine on the Authors of those desolations. The happy successe of their crimes, makes them persever in them, and their gods as insensible and barbarous as they, neither hearken to the vowes nor lamentations of such as petition them for vengance. I turne then to you, O living Image of the fairest Princesse that hath ever worne the sacred Bandelette of the Incas, and beseech you to heare the tragicall end of the great Guina Capa, that so your courage excited by your compassion, may goe on to conti­nue that revenge which I before had set on foote. Know then, that a little while after the feigned obedience of the Quitonians, the King my Lord, that would have lived a­mongst [Page 100] [...]hem, as a Father with his Children, sent back into the Provinces of his ancient Empire, the most part of the Troopes which had served for the conquest of the new; and by this disarming, delivered himselfe to the fury of these savage beastes; For he was surprised in his Pallace, murthered by these Monsters, and by them devou [...]ed, if we may beleeve that which they have dared to publish.

The Quen was drawn through the street of Quito, and (out of the town) expos'd to two Tigres, who by a prodigy of the goodnes of heaven changing boththeir nature & custome, became pittifull and honored their prey insteed of devouring it. I have learned from some that were present at this marvelous Spectacle, that that wofull Queen was delivered among those Tygres and that she died as soone as her child was born. There were that added another miracle to the former; and twas that the Tigres had not onely compassion but charity for the little creature, & that after they had lickt it and defended it from those that would have killd it with their arrowes they forsooke it not, till they saw the Infant in the hands of a troop of men who seemd to be come thither of purpose for his succour. Those who were supposed to be the Subjects of the King Quasmez, carried away the body of the Quene and her childe, and since that tyme I haue done my utmost endeavour to recover them both; but notwithstanding all the care I have taken, and all the promises I have made by my Embassadors to the just Quasmez, it hath not avayled me to recover, nay not so much as to know what was becom of them. Some few daies after the execrable paricide of Guina Capa, I heard of it by some Sol­dyers that had sav'd themselves from the rage of the Quitonian [...]. Presently I publish'd this great Accident amongst my troupes, and intymating to them my griefe and reso­lution, I brought them into the field, and went from place to place, to incite the peo­ple not to leave so great a Murther unpunished. In a small time I found my selfe ac­companied with an army wholely composed of such men as would preserve nothing to themselves after the losse of their Princes: and in that warre giving my selfe none other title then the Avenger of the royall blood of the Incas, I never thought on any one of those Advantages which the King my Master had left me. I weighed not the becomming a King, nor that I had to deale with so many enemies, so that the whole world might know with what contempt of my fortune and life, I pursued those tray­tors which triumphed on the death of the King and the miseries of my countrymen. I sent th [...] sadd n [...]wes to Cusco, and conjured all the Incas to the revenge of their El­der. Instantly I entred with my Army the country inhabited by the traytors, and over­whelming (to my great greefe alas) the innocent with the guilty, commanded that all should be put to fire and sworde. Whole townes were burnt, the fields laid waste, and in briefe the whole kingdome of Quito became a mournfull Theater where disloyalty on the one side and vengeance on the other made shew of what they had most tragicall. In the terme of five or six yeares that the Gods fauoured my attempts, I reduced the Quitonian traytors to the necessity of searching in dens and the precipices of mountaynes roome and places to hide themselves from my good for­tune. I became absolute master of the field and but for two hundred thousand com­batants which the king of Mexico sent to ayde the Qui [...]onians, I had compelled them to a Peace as dishonorable as their Rebellion was execrable. These new Enemies made me alter my resolution, and to march right to them, to hinder their joyning with the Quitonians. I drew then my Troopes from the Mountaines where they held the Rebels besieged, and stayed behinde with a body of foure thousand men to hinder the excursi­ons of those we had set at liberty. On my third dayes march, I fell into an ambush that those desperat traytors had layd for me, and though I saw my selfe beset on all sides, yet I happily freed me, and cut most part of the Quitonians in peeces. The heate of the fight so transported me, that without consideration of the fault I committed, I follow­ed the run-awaies, and so farre that at last I saw I was alone in a great Forrest. Amongst the trees and rocks I lost those that I pursued, and repenting my comming so farre, I be­gan to thinke on my retreate, when presently I was set on by three Quitonians; one of them I l [...]yd dead at my feet, & forced the other two to flie. In ch [...]ller I followed them, & tending towards the reins the fatall Javelin which the great Guina Capa had left me as the last & greatest token of his affection, I was about to strike it through the body of [Page 101] the hinder most, but he cast himselfe after his companion into the mouth of a Caverne. The [...]ury w herein I was, tooke away my judgement, and thrust me into the Cave after [...]hose two Barbarians. I fell very low, and found my selfe so amazed with the fall, that It was a pretty while ere I came to my knowledge: At last I recovered my wits, and saw I was in a very spacious place, and in some places very light: I looked all about, and discrying not those that hid them there, I confesse I was somewhat astonished; I then thought of nothing but how to come out of that Caverne, and searched so much [...]hat finding a little overture in the corner of the Rock, with much a doe I got through i [...] and came into another Cave, greater and more lightsome then the rest. I then thought on the King my Masters Javelin, and returned for it into the first Vault, I found it in the place where I fell, but at that instant; I know not what thought of death seising on my minde, I was unwilling that a thing so precious should after my death come into the hands of my enemies. I therefore resolved to leave it there, and to hide it in a cleft of the Rock, which I saw there fit to preserve so deare a pledge or gage,

With teares then I tooke leave of a Present which the love and memory of my deare Master made so extreamely to be valued of me, and so buried it in the intrailes of the Rock; which done I yet passed into the greater Caverne, and from thence into ano­ther far larger, where me thought I heard some talke, and comming in thither, I met not only those two which I had pursued, but many others of their companions who rushed upon me with fearefull howlings, and spite of my resistance binding my hands and feet, carried me out of that Cave. I heard, or I beleeved I heard in going out of that place, the voice of a man either very sick or very weake, who, calling me by my name, Alisma (said he) my deare Alisma at last thou art fallen as well as my selfe into that snare which our common enemies have these many yeeres laied for thee. At that time I amused not my selfe much to weigh those words, but during my pri­son, my memory retaining them, hath not onely many times repeated them, but making me call to minde those terminations which are proper to the language of the Inca's, would perswade me though without reason, that none but Guina Capa was utterer of those complaintes. When they were made to me, I was not permitted time to give an answer, for those by whom I was taken, redoub­ling their howlings and blowes, carried me out of the Caverne, and travelling night and day came at last to the Mexicans campe. There they set me downe, and loading me with new chaines, presented me to him that commanded Montezuma's Army. The generous Cacique (who is the same that hath hitherto kept me in this place) received me with a great deale of humanity, and intreating me oftentimes to take my misfortune patiently, said that he would bring me to a place where I should have intertainement worthy my loyalty and condition. He was as good as his promise whilst he remained in the Kingdome of Quito, but after he had got againe all that I had taken, and cut in peeces all those Troopes whom my disaster had made desperate, he brought me to Mexico. There was I most ignominiously lead through the streets for a spectacle to a brutish Nation, and more cruelly exposed to all tortures that the fury of Hismalita and weaknesse of Montezuma could invent to draw from me those truthes which were more important to me then my life. My silence, and the scorne I had of their torments, neer madded them, and but for I know not what reason that hindred them, I perswade my selfe they were resolved to put me to death. After I had beene a yeere prisoner at Mexico, I was taken out of a Castle that is in the midst of the Lake which invirons their City: Zelmatida interrupting Alisma at the remembrance of that prison: Ah (my Father said he to him sighing) how well doe I know that fatall abode! but goe on I pray, that we may quickly leave this Island, and giving our selves over to be lead by our just anger, may at once fall on Mexico, and run with the same pace to our just ven­geance. Alisma, beginning againe; there remaines nothing (said he) for me to make any further relation save the miseries which I have suffered these ten yeeres of my im­prisonment heere. They have beene great, they have beene horrible, but they had beene worse, if the generosity of him who had me in his custody, had not made a favou­rable construction of those commands which came to him from Mexico and lenified t [...] furious spirit of the Cacique of this Isle, who witnesseth by his brutishnesse that he is [Page 102] worthy to be brother to the cruell Hismalita. But we shall alwaies have time enough [...]or this unpleasant narration; let me at this present make knowne what my intention was in declaring to you the last actions of the great Guina Capa 'Twas to oblige you to goe with me to the Caverne where I have hidden that Princes Javelin, and after I have taken thence the declaration he made in favour of me, to transact to you all the right which I have in the Empire of the Incas, and to make you knowne for the sole and lawfull Heire of the victorious Guina Capa. Yet I present not to you this great fortune, but on condition, that as true successor of my Master the Inca, you undertake and set forward to avenge his blood and that of the Queene his wife, to offer to their ashes the d [...]sloyall Quintonians, and force out of their hands those Provinces which they have to our great mishap wonne from us. Doe not imagine that in making you this donation I intend to free my selfe from the paines and perills of so long a warre, or that age having made me fearefull, I resolve to end my daies in a secure idlenesse. No, no, Zelmatida, I will (if the gods grant me life) conduct you not only to Quito but to Cusco, and dye with my weapons in my hand, in establishing you in Throne of our Kings. Let us on then as soone as possibly we can to begin this holy warre: Let us on to dig out the fatall Javelin of Guina Capa, that the sight of it may serve us to gaine to us their affections, and to make us to be followed by those who undertake not in affaires any other part then what their owne interests prompts them to. Zelmatida was a long time ere he could resolve to accept those offers which Alisma made him; but fearing to offend the good old man, and seeing besides in this donation far more likelihoods of perish [...]ng [...]hen governing, he gave consent to all that which Alisma had proposed. Yet conceiving that the Javelin and Declaration of Guina Capa, were but to small purpose for the making a warre: Father (said he to the generous old man) I finde a far shorter way the [...] yours, to begin our enterprise. Let your Javelin alone in his Caverne, and without losing more time, goe we to my Father the good Quasmez. I am most assured that he will give us an Army sufficient to avenge the blood of Guina Capa, and not on­ly to conquer the Provinces of Quito but even the very Realme of Montezuma. Let us run headlong on nothing I beseech you (answered Alisma) and let us not doe that wrong to the memory of the great Guina Capa, to beleeve that his Declaration and Seale will be no way advantagious unto us. Essay we rather to get into the Province of Quito, and when we shall be in possession of the good which my Lord the Inca hath left us, we will then supplicate the just Quasmez to assist us with his forces that we may keepe it. Zelmatida having consented to the will of Alisma, came and tooke me and testifying to me his resentment of the service I had done him, intreated me not to for­sake him, and that we might presently embarke to get us on the Coasts of our world. I leave you to thinke with what content I gave care to a request so pleasing to me. I not only promised that great Prince to conduct him whither he would goe, but protested to him that if he did not refuse my service, I would not abandon him whilst I lived. My inclination (said he) that makes me incline to your company, will have me take you at your word; but the cause that commands me to preferre your contentment before mine owne, forbids me to use the power which you give me over my selfe. These speeches were seconded by many other, and concluded to depart without delay. Our ship had received some wrong at sea, but the Marriners meeting with that which was needfull for her new trimming, that they put her in case to feare nothing but Land and fire. This while Zelmatida called for the Governour of the place, and seeing him in a deepe me­lancholy; Your loyalty (said he) and your courage are capable to make you beloved even of men that esteeme farre lesse of virtue then either Alisma or I doe; We should therefore sin against our owne consciences if in some sort we did not recompence your excellent qualities. Common men esteeme not brave actions but when they are done by themselves or by those of them most affected. But we are more just, and respect virtue in the person even of our enemy. This consideration obligeth us to give you that which the chance of warre tooke from you, and to leave you free in your Port, with all those who are now our prisoners. Live then, as you have done hitherto and let the safe­ty you have found amongst your vanquishers be an advertisement to persevere in your [...]irtue. The Mexican gazing on the King: I am sor [...]y (said he) to be so much endea­red [Page 103] and to see so much noblenesse in a person whom I may not lawfully love. Yet since the great soule of the World, who forbids me to be a traytor, forbids me not to be thankfull (I will without fayling in that which I owe my King) every where publish the favours I have received from you, and continually beseech the gods of Mexico that Montezuma, never have successors but such as are as worthy to reigne as your selfe.

He could not refrayne from teares in ending these words. Alisma embraced him in bidding farewell and wept too. In the meane time Zelmatida sent to his shippe for all those whom he had caused to be chained, and when they were come, caused their fet­ters to be taken off, and delivered them to their Captaine. There arose a great noyse a­mongst them, proceeding from the admiration they had of the no [...]lenesse of my deare Master. Every one kissed his hand in taking their leaves, and their Captaine himselfe was enforced by his excellent nature to wish him all kinde of good fortune. Zelmatida intreated him at parting, to send one of his men to Montezuma, and in signifying [...] him the deliverance of Alisma, to let him know, that it was done by the s [...]me Zelmatida who had served him against the Theviciens, and who went from his Court upon intelli­gence given to him that Hismalita plotted to have him murthered. The Mexican pro­mised that he would not fayle, and with that we went aboord. Though the winde and calme tempered one with another, seemed to have as much affection as our selves to the successe of our voyage; yet being ignorant of what course to steere in so vast a Sea and so unknowne, we were neere two moneths as well in crossing that great extent of wa­ter, as in coasting the long point of land which advancing far into the Sea, runnes a­long that Isthmus of fifteene leagues only in breadth, which is as the middle of Quas­mez kingdom. At the narrowest place of that Isthmus there is a Port, the fayrest, safest, and greatest of any I have seene in my voyages. Into that we fortunately entred after we had many times tryed the incomodity of navigation, and leaving there our shippe, with those of our Mariners which were the worst souldiers, we tooke the rest, gave them armes and landed together. Zelmatida knew the countrey no better then those that followed him. It therefore behoved us to finde some Savage to be our Guide, and to employ our fire and sword to make us way through the Mountaines, Precipices, Fo­rests and other places, to us inaccessible. We travelled foure dayes in those Desarts, and on the fifth came to Careca, which is a pretty towne, where the same Torrucia kept his Court, who was by Zelmatida taken prisoner in the warre of the twenty re­volted Caciques, and a little after set at liberty. We found him not in his Pallace, for he was gone (as we were told) with th [...]rty thousand of his Subjects to the ayde o [...] Quasmez, who was besieged in his capitall City by an army of two hundred thousand woemen. Alisma interrupting him that spoake, assure your selfe said he to Zelmatida, that the valiant Telesmana, Queene of the Amazons, and mother to the incomparable wife of Guina Capa is come out of her kingdome to revenge the death of the king my Master, and to have the body of the Queene her daughter, which Quasmez hath got into his hands, if the common report be true. Zelmatida had scarce heard this discourse but the fire getting up into his face: Lets away (father said he to Alisma) lets away and serve the most just and best Prince that the Sun hath ever brought into the World. Before Alisma replyed, I spoke, and seconding with content the conception of my deare Lord. Let us not deferre this journey (said I) for it behoves us one way or other to hinder their proceeding, so, that Q [...]asmez receive not the dishonour to be abused by women. Zelmatida embracing me for joy, my deare Garruca (said he) thy advice is so generous, that I should be unworthy to live, if I deferred the executing of it. Alisma who would have beene glad that nothing had opposed his first designe, asked Zelmatida if he remembred not his promises? I shall never forget them said Zelmatida, but long be­fore I made them to you, I was engaged to serve Quasmez preferrably before all others. Ah, my father, consider that the question now is not only of honor but of duty, & of a du­ty so holy that it cannot be violated without wronging in the same instant that which is annexed to the mysteries of Religion and the service of the gods. Alisma having no­thing to answere, approved of Zelmatidaes resolution, and desiring to lose [...] [...]tle [...]ime as might be, advised him to stay no longer at Careca. We therefore parted thence [...] day breake, and marched till Sun-set.

[Page 104] The next day we made the like Journey, and the third had not been shorter but for an accident which happily fell out for Zelmatida and Quasmez too. Wee descended a Mountaine from whose top we had discovered the Towne wherein Quasmez was beseiged and the Amazons campe, when suddainly came on us a troope of women who incompassing us commanded withall that we should yeeld. Zelmatida and Alisma ravished with the beauty of their enemies could not take a resolution to offend them: They therefore obayed, and presenting to them their weapons obliged my selfe and my companyons to give them ours too. This is not enough saide the Principall of that faire Company, you must now follow us and yeeld your selves prisoners to the in­vincible Telesmana Queene of the warlike virgins. You shall not be disobeyed an­swered Alisma. For we are both my selfe and my companions so much obliged to Te­lesmana, that we are ready to suffer all that she shall pronounce against us. This saide; Zelmatida was the first that presented himselfe, and consenting to have his hands bound endured Alismaes smiling at it, and that I might manacle my selfe. Those redoubtable enemies, put us in the midst of them, and so brought us to their Campe. They under­stood at their entry, that Telesmana expected Embassadors from Quasmez, and that she was to receive them with all the magnificence that she seemed to make shew of on the like occasions. These news were very pleasing to them, and made them resolve to take hold of that occasion, and to present us to the Queene, whilest she was in the state of doing justice; and presently they hastened towards the Pavillions of Telesmana. I must confesse to you; that in no one of all the kings Courts that I have seene eyther in the one or the other world, I have not taken notice of any thing so stately, so rich, so admirable, and in a word, so royall, as the Guard and the Quarter of that valiant Queene. It was almost a league about, and twice so long as large, compassed with a di [...]ch filled with water, and with a pallisadoe of high stakes. There was but one en­trance, where two thousand Amazons were day and night in guard. We entred the second Campe, and passed through foure thousand warriers that stood on each side in file even to the Queenes lodging. After that she who commanded our Conductors, had beene with the Queene to give an accompt of the successe of her journey; she re­turned and brought us into a great Tent, which was as the Hall for Telesmanaes guard. Thence we went into another that shone exceedingly with gold and diamonds. There stood three rancks of Amazons, armed with halfe-pike, so neate and curiously gilded, that they were fitter for a day of triumph then a day of combat. We past by those fayre warriers, and presently saw the worthy Mistresse of so illustrious Subjects. She was en­vironed with a great number of Princesses and other Ladies, and seated on a throne of massie gold, covered with rubies, pearle and diamonds. It was ascended to by six de­grees of gold and silver, and over it hung great plates of gold, joyned together all thick set with precious stones, and disposed in such a fashion, that the Sun casting his beams on it, made the Queene to seeme indeede as another Sun. Our guards brought us to the foote of the Throne, and commanded us to kneele to be examined. The counte­nance and grace of Zelmatida and Alisma, though the inequality of their ages made them farre different, caused almost a like admiration in all the Assembly. The Queene could not refrayne from turning her eyes on them, and though she saw them not well, yet confest that it was great pitty to destroy such men whose brave aspect gave suffici­ent testimony of their mindes, and the greatnesse of their courage. Yet she would be satisfied, and therefore commanded Alismaes Guard to bid him stand up.

The generous olde Man arose, and all bound as he was, after five or six steps came and kneeld at the feet of the Princesse. When he had cast up his eyes, and that Teles­mana had looked on that warlike aspect which his gray hayres made venerable, she shewed a great deale of greife that she must be constrayned to condemn that man to death, against her owne naturall sweetnesse. Notwithstanding it behooved her to goe against her owne inclynation, and to resolve it. Yet before she would give the sen­tence of death, she tolde him, that if his courage did not bely his countenance, he should shewe it on this occasion, and patiently undergoe the disaster whereinto he and his companions were then fallen. For know (said she) that by an irrevocable Decree made by me above sixteen yeares since, I have condemned all men that should fall into [Page 105] my hands to be burn'd alive. The respect due to my sex which that of yours hath violated in mine owne person and my childrens, compells me to avenge my selfe on men with more rigour then any doth ordinarily inflict on his enemies. But let them for all accuse their owne inhumanity, that was the first cause of it. Yes cruell and inhumane as you are, yes Monsters that make Nature to blush for producing you, you have been so bar­barous as neither to have mercy on a woman whom the gods caused to be borne the fairest and wisest Princesse of the world, nor on her infant yet a part of her selfe, doe not wonder then if after so many and so great wrongs I betake me to a just venge­ance, and make no difficulty of massacring the innocent for feare of letting escape any one that is guilty. Now you know my resolution and your owne destiny, tell me who you are, and what sad fortune hath cast you into the hands of my women? Alisma, not [...]ffecting that insensibility which makes all things indifferent, and yet free from that [...]eare which brings a change of colour in the face, and a stammering in the speech, answered the Queene thus: If my companions and my selfe had beene lesse accusto­med then we are to the outrages of fortune, we would complaine now of this her new plotted treason: But being dayly at warres with her, we will try to get the victory by our constancy, and never more finde fault with her betrayings. Yet we must confesse that this last treachery is horrible, for we beleeved her not false enough to corrupt our best friends, and to provide Goales and tortures for us where we came to seeke for re­pose and protection. Yes great Queene, we came into this Kingdome to finde a Sanctu­ary against fortune, and have heere some helpes against our enemies. I name not these considerations, to wooe your pity, nor doe we love life so well to preserve it by wiles. You have commanded me to say who I am, I will obey you, and by that obedience make you confesse, that fortune is yet a more cruell enemy then I have spoake her.

I he City of Cusco claimes my birth; I am honored by being descended from the race of the Sun, and to be Grandchilde to the coelestiall Mango Capa. If since the death of the great Guina Capa you have beene pleased to heare related the misfortunes that followed the losse of that Prince and your incomparable Daughter, I doubt not but you have heard of the name of Alisma. The Queene much moved at that name; how said she, are you that Alisma who called your selfe the Avenger of the royall blood of the Incas, and that have beene thought dead above twelve yeeres? I am the same (answered Alisma) and owe the honour of seeing you to the valour of that Prince (in so saying he shewed my deare Master) who after many yeeres of fearefull slavery gave me at once both my life and liberty. The Queene unable to suppresse the perplexity wherein she was: Must I (cried she) [...]ither violate a law which I have so justly esta­blished, or that I must cause its execution by the death of that man to whom I am most obliged of all men living? After this, she commanded Alisma to kneele againe, and Zelmatida to arise and answer in his turne; and did it of purpose to see whether in con­demning him she might not save the other. Zelmatida arose, and standing fixed, lifted his eyes to behold the Princesse: She gazed on him as earnestly, and presently striking her hands together; O gods (cried she) is it not an Apparition I see? Certainely I have either lost the remembrance of my Daughters face, or this is the same she had when I delivered her into the possession of Guina Capa. After this exclamation, she held her peace, and kept her eyes long fixed on my deare Master. Atlast, not longer a­ [...]le to hide her astonishment, she arose, and cried out, this is my Daughter (unfortunate that I am) or I am Inchanted. Those words caused a great confusion in the Assembly, but Telesmana imposing silence, commanded my deare Master to tell her who he was. Great Queene (said he) you enjoyne me that which the unfortunatenesse of my birth permits me not to give you satisfaction in. To this present, hath it beene to me impossi­ble either to know my Parents or my Country. This worthy King whose justice and integrity makes him beloved even of the most impious, the incomparable Quasmez (I say) whom you have beleaguered (pardon me if I say without any just cans [...]) bred me up as his Son: Yet I know I am not so, but only in affection; and the propitious care of the gods gave me that good Father, when I was abandoned by those who gave me life. Heere Zelmatida held his peace, and expected without any shew of feare what Telismana would pronounce touching his life. But the Queene had not then time for [Page 106] it, a suddaine noise of trumpets and other instruments wherewith the Amazons heartned themselves for fight, being heard through all the Campe. The shouts and tumlts of those warriours joinde with the noise of the trumpets gave not over, till the Au­thors of those rejoycings were come into Telesmana's Tent. They put us on one side of her Throne, and presently we saw enter Quasmez Embassadors. They observed all those ceremonies used in such Audiences, and came with a gravity mixed with respect to the Queen's Throne. She stood up to receive them, and witnessed by her actions that she was full of contentment but that it was accompanied with some disquiet. By chance, the chiefe of the Embassadors casting his eyes on Zelmatida, was seised on with an ex [...]reame astonishment. His desire not to be long in doubt of a thing that was to him of so great consequence, made him gaze on the Lord my Inca with as much ear­nestnesse as he could. Now, he looked on him; then cast his eyes on Telesmana as if he would aske who her prisoner was, and then back againe on him, and doubting no more but that it was Zelmatida: Great Queene (said he to Telesmana) the gods the [...]avourers of virtue, have this day made appeare a wonderfull act of their providence: We came from the King our Master, to intreat you, to receive his excuses, and for you to justifie the actions that with a violent and armed hand have beene executed within his Territories: But I finde [...]eete that which shall give satisfaction to your just indig­nation, wherewithall to appease y [...]ur anger, to make you lay downe your armes, to comfort your afflictions, and in short to make you turne the hatred you bea [...]e the just Quasmez into an eternall friendship. I bring you, or (to say more properly) I finde in your owne hands that treasure for which you undertooke this warre, and give you this intelligence, that you have in your power that victorious Prince which you aske from us. Yes, Madam, under the name of Zelmatida you have the worthy successor of the great Guina Capa; the precious Issue of your admirable Daughter, and that Son, to whom the pitifull Tigres were both Guardians and Nurses. And with this the Embassa­dor went, and taking Zelmatida by the hand and shewing him to the Queene, see (said he) Quasmez love and deligh [...]. Behold the Prince, by whom the gods are pleased that he shall recover the felicity he hath lost: in a word: Behold your Son. No man can speake of it more certainely then my selfe, for twas I that tooke him out of the pawes of the pitifull Tigres, that brought him with the body of the Queene his Mother, from the midst of the Quitonians, and gave him into the Armes of Quasmez. Telesmana clee­red by this discour [...]e of those doubts which had obliged her to resist all respect and force of bloud, descended from her Throne, and falling on the neck of my L [...]rd the I [...]a; Mine eyes then (said she) my Son which have beene so long time steeped in teares for your losse and your Mothers, give me now that comfort w [...]ich the gods have alwaies promised me? I will now no more beleeve that my Daughter is dead, since intirely li­ving in you she hath but only changed her sexe. But O worthy Heire of the great Gui [...] Capa, miraculously preserved! should you be thus presented to me? What thinke I o [...], that I suffer you to stand thus long as a criminell? Cut, cut [...] cord [...]s, and let us [...] more complaine of men since their very wickednesse hath laboured [...]or the consolation of all the rest of my life. The Queene in saying so, unbound Zelmatida; and Zelmatida marked all this with [...]ut the least transport of pleasure in [...]eing knowne the [...] of s [...] great a Pri [...]. On the contrary he stood afflicted among all th [...]se causes of rejoycing & g [...]ieved to see Alisma and my selfe in danger. And resolving to renounce [...]ll advantage rather then to suffer us to receive the least displeasure, he sta [...]ed [...] Queene, and told her, he would neither enjoy life nor liberty, if the companion [...] in [...] were not too pertakers of his good fortune. But what hinders you from [...] brave man? (pointing to Alisma) He is a King, Guina Capa declared him [...]; [...] you cannot be just and suffer Alisma to be thus in bonds. Alisma on [...] [...]ide sa [...] that the Queene ought not to be forsworne for the saving of his [...] Master had done him that honour to declare him King, but it was [...] [...]tion that he had never a Son; that therefore she should end what she had begu [...] [...] that for [...] favour he would desire her only the stay of execution a little while, that he might at [...]is pleasure embrace the King his Master, and for some [...] enjoy the [...]ght of the yong Guina Capa. And that after so much contentment he wou [...] walke to his [...] [Page 107] with all joy and glory, and esteeme himselfe the happiest of all men living. The King insisted to aske Alismaes life. The spectators of eyther sex made resound againe their joy and wonder, and her Pallace was all in rejoycings and confusion, such as I thinke the History of all ages cannot give us an accident comparable with it. The Queene, when the tumult was over (entertayning the while Zelmatida particularly) sent to command every one to take his place, and when all were ranged, she went againe in­to her Throne, and pronounced these words aloude: The supposed death of the great Guina Capaes lawfull Heire, wrought by the malice of men, wonne me not only to make a lawe which condemned to death all men that fell into my hands, but likewise to denounce a warre against the King Quasmez, my brother and ancient Ally. But this finding againe my sonne by the helpe of men, I will; That lawe be for ever abolished, and putting a period to the war I undertooke, I acknowledge my selfe answerable to Quasmez, and give him most particular thanks for so charitably gathering together the remainder of my desolate house.

When she had thus made knowne her will, she descended from her Throne, and taking Zelmatida by the hand, gave Alisma and my selfe the best entertainment we could wish; Quasmez Embassadours, ravished with so incredible and such an unexpe­cted revolution of businesse, did their complements to Zelmatida, as to the rightfull successour of the Incaes; and besought Telesmana that she would be pleased they might send their Master these good news. I my selfe (said he) will be the Messenger of our common happinesse; let therefore some one of you returne to Quasmez, and without giving him intelligence of what hath happened, tell him that I am on the way to visite him. The youngest of the Embassadours had that Commission, and presently departed to put it in execution: A little after the Queene went out of her Campe, holding Zel­matida by the one hand, and Alisma by the other. Quasmez Embassadours were on each side of her, and the Queenes guard crowned with chaplets of flowres, encompas­sed that illustrious company. In this manner we marched to the gates of the City, where Quasmez expected us, and in the incertainty he was, failed not of that extreme quietnes of minde, which even the most miserable find in the testimony of a good con­science and firme confidence every one ought to have in the goodnesse of the gods. Te­lesmana at her comming to him, presented Zelmatida, and after their salute; See (said she) the cause of the warre and the cause of peace. See what hath made me take up armes, and that which hath made me lay them downe. I know just and charitable Quasmez that Zelmatida is my sonne as well as yours; and if your love and care have made you taken for his Father, blood and nature oblige me to declare my selfe his Mo­ther. Quasmez, not knowing where first to expresse his joy, and the proofes of his a­ [...]ction, whether to the Mother or to the Sonne, would have beene glad at once to have parted himselfe betwixt Telesmana and Zelmatida. Your imagination better then my relation can represent to you all the particularities of this interview; I will not ther­fore speake of the Sacrifices nor magnificencies wherewithall Quasmez caused the re­turne of Zelmatida, and the peace to be celebrated. Let it suffice, I tell you the Queene of the Amazons was a moneth with Quasmez, and after she had witnessed to him an extreame resentment for those obligations she was bound to him in the behalfe of Zel­matida, she with a royall pompe and convoy tooke thence the body of the Queene he [...] daughter, tooke leave of him, and stayed not till she came to the City of Quito. Zel­matida, who followed her by Quasmez appointment, after two daies stay in that town was importuned by Alisma, to goe to the Caverne of the Javelyn. He consented and we three parted thence with our ordinary servants, beginning that journey, which the generous old man had beene so long desired. We travelled night and day, and tooke but little rest till we came to the Cave that concealed so many marvels. We found not the entry so easy as Alisma had told us, but contrarily, as soone as we came neere it, were set on by a great Troop of Quitonians, who by their howlings & enraged actions signified an extreame apprehension of our arivall. Zelmatida, making use of the good Sword I gave him at Calcicoëca (which the Amazons had restored to him) slew so ma­ny of those desperate people that what he did even passeth all likelyhood. Alisma, old as he was, made shew of his former vigour, and I, that was willing to defend my life▪ [Page 108] tryed to make use of those advantages that I had fetcht so farre off. But the wonderfull valour of Zelmatida and his consorts strength had beene vaine against so many enemies, i [...] the wisedome of Telesmana had not seconded the boldnesse of her sonne; For as soone as she knew of his private departure, she caused two thousand Amazons to follow him, and commanded they should not returne without him. Those generous Ladies fell in on the Quitonians when we were covered with wounds and round beset on all sides, and drove them to the entry of the Caverne.

Zelmatida much moved with his owne disgrace put himselfe in the front of the A­mazons and did so wonderfull deeds of armes, that since they called him the God of warre. At last he forced the caves en [...]t left not one of the Quitonians alive. A­lisma entred next after him, and [...]an [...]o the place where he had hid the fatall Iavelin. He had much a doe to draw it out. Yet at last he got it, but he was much astonished when he returned to Zelmatida and sawe him busied in delivering a Prisoner. He ga­zed on the man, and presently letting fall the Iavelin out of his hand, cryed out, am I asleepe, or doe I wake? Is this a truth or a illusion that I see? my Lord, my deare Lord, is it your selfe or your shadowe? doe you know your Alisma, or wot you who tis that vndoes your bonds? Zelmatida was about to ask Alisma the reason of his asto­nishment: when said the Prisoner takeing the generous old man by the hand, tis even I Alisma, who after so long imprisonment and a hundred times escaping the death prepared for me, see my selfe freed by the valour of this brave yong man. Doe you live then my Lord, replyed Alisma? Have you escaped the rage of your enemies? Have the Gods preserved you among so many Executioners? shall I beleeve it? Yes, O, yee just Gods I will, said he, falling on his knees, and acknowledging more and more that your incomprehensible providence governes by unknowne meanes the accidents of the worlde. I will employ all the remaynder of my life in publishing your miracles, and give you worthy actions of praise and thankes by continuall sacrifices. This said, he arose, and turning to the Prisoner, see (said he) your sonne, shewing him Zel­matida and speakeing to Zelmatida, Behold your father, the greate Guina Capa, to whom you owe your royall extraction. Thinke if you please with how many admirati­ons and transports this knowledge was followed. Guina Capa on the suddaine beleved not a thing so incredible, but in spite of all reasons that kept him from it, he felt in himselfe, that he was obliged by the solicitations and tendernesse of nature to acknow­ledge Zelmatida for his sonne. The Prince rejoycing at the life and liberty of the King his father, kneeled downe, beseeching him the permission to kisse his hands, tolde him that he asked the Gods no more, since they had granted him that thing which of all else in the world he had most earnestly prayed for. Guina Capa holding Zelmatida be­tweene his armes, witnessed how much he loved him; and Alisma presently stepped and presented to the hands of that great King the Iavelin he had formerly given him. Guina Capa tooke it, and withall told him, that the Gods who deprived him of one Empire were too just not to bestow on him a greater. And with this he tooke Zelma­tida and leaning on him went out of his prison by the way that the yong Princesse had made him with the hazard of his life. Some of the Amazons knew him, and giving him what belonged to his quality, deputed foure from among them to carry this strange newes to Telesmana. Those runners went thence and with an extreame diligence came to Quito. When they had intimated to their Queene that Guina Capa was living, they did what they could to make her beleeve it, but she would not, but rather imagined that twas some Impostor, who deluding Alisma by some resemblance he had with Gui­na Capa, made himselfe to be so taken indeede. But when he came she was forced to change her opinion, and to acknowledg him for the true Guina Capa. Whilest she was in t [...]e excesse of her joy and wonder, one of those who passe for Prophets among the Quitonians came before her, and desiring audience: You see (said he) great Queene, the invincible Guina Capa: the credit which I have with the Quitonians, and the threats that I have used to them on the part of the gods, in case they enterprised any thing against the life of that Prince, have compelled them (spite of their hear [...]s) to re­spect him, and not to hearken to that barbarous fury which sollicited them to put him to death. He himselfe shall beare witnesse to what I say, and assure you, that excepting [Page 109] the displeasures of his long captivity, he hath received no ill treatment from the Quito­nians. Guina Capa confirmed what the Priest said, and related to the Queene all the hazards he had run. Telesmana made him a recitall of Zelmatida's adventures, and by what meanes she came to knowe him. Alisma interrupted this discourse, and besought the King his Master to tell him, if since his imprisonment, he had never seene any of his owne Subjects. Only you (answered the King) and if you can remember it, twas I that bid you farewell when you fell into the Caverne which hath so long time beene my Prison. I would faine have perswaded my selfe to beleeve it, answered the generous old man, but the assurance I had that you were not among the living, made me reject that phansie as often as it was presented. Prais'd for it be the Gods! and thou also O [...]atall Javelin (said he) looking on that which Guina Capa had given him; tis by thee alone that so many miracles have beene done, and that the greatest Princes of the world, after diverse incredible accidents, come to knowe each other, and regaine the possession of their Thrones. The Quitonian Prophet added more matter to Alisma's dis­cou [...]se; and discovering secrets to come, there remaines (said he) yet a misfortune that must shortly afflict these Princes; but if it can be quelled, the Empire of the Incas shall be more flourishing then ever, and the Reigne of Guina Capa become a Reigne full of glory and happinesse.

Telesmana, Guina Capa, and Zelmatida receiving in appearance nought of this pre­diction but that which was advantagious to them, abode at Quito many moneths. Run­ners were sent to Cusco, and others to the King Quasmez. In the meane time, the rest of the Quitonians wonne by their Priest, came voluntarily and threw them at the feet of Guina Capa and intreated pardon for their revolts. The King, the most good and mercifull that ever was, forgot what was passed; and tooke nothing so much into his consideration as the reparation of the ruines of Quito, and to make happy the Quitoni­ans. Telesmana would not leave that Prince, till the Troopes which he had sent for from his Kingdome were arrived. All that time passed in playes, feasts, and other plea­sures.

Tis true that two remarkable afflictions interrupted the publique joy. The first pro­ceeded from the funerall pompe wherewith Guina Capa conducted the body of the Queene his wife into the stately Temple of Quito: and the other arose from the death of the good Alisma. That faithfull servant seeing the happy successe of his Masters ad­ventures, received thence so violent and extraordinary transports, that they might say the excesse of his joy consumed the little strength that remained in his body worne out with the travells of warre and his long imprisonment. He fell sick, and without any o­ther apparent cause, was neere a moneth in losing the functions of life one after ano­ther. Guina Capa and Zelmatida asisted him as their Father, and ran the hazard of fol­lowing him, so great a feeling had they of his losse. These causes of sorrow being past over, the Father and Son continued their kindnesse they had begun to Telesmana. Ze­matida in the opinion of his Father and Grandmother wanted nothing. But his felici­ty depended not on Crownes. I am compelled to leave the continuance of Guina Capa's adventures, and the marvells that attended his returne to Cusco, to bring again on the stage the violent passion of Zelmatida which I have in a manner buried in the recitall of so many admirable adventures. My deare Master had Isatida alwaies in his thought, and since he left her, never talked with me of any thing but of his hope of re­seeing her. And for all the delights of Quito, and the great hopes to which he was carried by the King his Father, he endured incredible tortures. He grew desperate for being among those pleasures, and called himselfe coward and traytour for having been capable of any delight in the absence of Isatida. To expiate that crime, He resolved to leave Quito and to throw himselfe into new troubles. They would have me (said he to me one day) go to Cusco, and forgetting Isatida prisoner, take possession of the Throne of the Incas. If I follow this councell I make my selfe unworthy of the honor which the fairest Princesse of the world hath done me, and rightly deserve that the glory of freeing her from prison be for ever taken from me. But my deare Garruca, I will not indure to be dazeled with such false lights; for the charme of worldly greatnesse which troubles weake spirits can doe nothing on a soule that is full with those of Isatida, Im­parting [Page 110] to me thus his resolution, he prepared to be gone, and that Guina Capa and Telesmana should give way to it, represented to them that without ingratitude, he could not stay longer from giving thankes to Quasmez for so many favours he had re­ceived from him. Telesmana could not approve of that journey, but Guina Capa who hath the same generosity and thoughts with his Son, gave him the permission he desi­red, and with a great equipage sent him to Quasmez Court. Zelmatida was received there not only as the Son of a great King, but as the only Son of Quasmez. The joy for his returne was generall, and the good Quasmez with the Queene his wife, seemed [...]o have forgotten their Daughter so glad were they at Zelmatida's arrivall. But he that found himselfe guilty of the displeasure which those good Princes would not make him any shew of; one day, thus spoake to them: I know whereto your affection and my du­ty bindes me. I owe you my life and my fortune. Beleeve not that I am so wicked as to forget that I likewise owe you the Princesse Xaira. Thereupon he recounted to them all that he had done at Mexico; and after that long discourse, know (said he) that I am going presently to free that Princ [...]sse from the hands of your enemies. Quasmez and the Queene did their utmost to divert him from so perillous a journey: But Zelma­tida falling at their feet, either (said he) take from me the life you have preserved, or permit me not to respect it as a continuall race of cowardise and ingratitude. No, no, Zelmatida must perish, or Xaira must be set at liberty. The day after this, he tooke leave of the two amiable Princes, and without any other company save Bereamis, some slaves, and my selfe, marched right to Mexico. Whilst he was on the way, he continued in so ex [...]raordinary a melancholy that it began to be troublesome to me. But twas soone af­ter knowne to be the presage of my deare Masters eternall affliction. As soone as we came to the Frontires of Mexico, we so disguised our selves that we could not be knowne, and so kept on the most unfortunate and saddest journey that shall ever be made. We were all so disconsolate, that it seemed we were going to execution. Zel­matida had disquiets which tooke away his strength of travelling, yet would he never stay. He wept every moment and sometimes being recalled from his musings by the redoubling of his griefes: Isatida (cried he, pitifully) how doe I feare the malice of those who have alwaies envied your virtue and my happinesse! The neerer I come to the place where you should be, the more my affrights and afflictions are augmented. If nothing most dismall had betided; the hope I have to see you, had not beene crossed by those feares and horrors which inviron me. His sighes often tooke away his meanes of speech, and the dispaire to which he had given himselfe over, failed little, oftentimes of killing him by the way. At last he came to Mexico, and understood as soone as we were entred, that all the Court was in mourning for the death of Isatida. What became of the King thinke you at this sad newes? It happened not to him that which is com­mon to all men which are surprised by an unexpected accident. He caused not the brin­ger of that frightfull newes to repeate the name of Isatida, nor did he aske him whereof she died. But on the contrary, in lieu of questioning or complaining, on the instant his sighes, teares, and wonted griefes stopped. He gazed on us with his eyes open, and wandring and at the same time, his excesse of sorrow becomming absolute Master of his senses, there was left him nothing of all the functions of life, but that which during a long swounding gives a little signe that the party is not yet dead. After, what we ap­plied had recovered him, he commanded me to goe through the Towne to learne of what sicknesse Isatida died; and intreated me that in acknowledgement of that affecti­on he bore me, I would be able to give him an accompt of all that he should aske me touching that dismall occasion. I left him with Bereamis, and went to get intelligence of a thing that was already but too much knowne to me. By chance I met with a Cour­tier; and growing acquainted with him, I began to set him on discourse of the Prin­cesse death, and he told me all the particulars. Presently I returned to Zelmatida, and assured him that nothing had passed in the death of Isatida but what was common to all. That she had beene but a while sick, that after her death, she had beene enclosed in the stately Tombe of the Kings of Mexico which is in the great Temple of Vacipala. That her losse had beene generally lamented; and that Montezuma and Hismalita, came ex­presly from Mexico to Vacipala to the Funerall of the Princesse. What hence forward [Page 111] hast thou to doe in the world miserable, Zelmatida cryed the King? Die now as one desperate, coward and disloyall as thou art, since thou hadst not the heart to expire as an honest man. But if thou be not altogether ignoble, leave not unpunished the death of the most accomplished Princesse of the world. Avenge that Innocent whom thou hast murthered. Cover Mexico with men of armes; and by a generall desolation, make that great King nothing but Isatidaes Sepulchre. Here he grew silent, and a little after tur­ning his eyes on me. Fortune (said he) then Garruca hath given me but imaginary [...], to take from me that which was reall. He cast his eyes up to heaven, after he had [...] said, and so standing as fixed▪ seemed to attend that death which he had already so often times implored. At last he came to himselfe, and desiring to be no longer at Me­x [...]co, departed though it were night, and kept on travelling till hee arrived at Vacipala.

The first thing he did after he came thither was to goe see Isatidaes Tombe, he em­braced it, he threw himselfe on it, and uttered such words as would make you die with griefe, did I repeate them; he passed a day and a night lamenting in this dismall place, and remained so long fastened to the Tombe, that Bereamis and I thought we should have made it his; with much force we got him thence, and by our remonstrances won him not to shew himselfe by day, for feare that being knowne he might be the cause of his own los [...]e and his followers. He made us well judge by his discourse that if he had been alone, or that he had loved us lesse, he would not have much cared for hiding himselfe. But for our sakes he resolved not to stirre but by night. And indeed failed not the next following to steale from us, to goe and continue his lamen [...]ations neere that fatall Sepulchre. The care we had of him, sufferedus not to sleepe long. We waken'd as he went forth, and followed him for feare some mishappe might be [...]de him. As soone as he came into the Temple, he ran to Isatidaes Tombe as one mad, and dra [...] ­ing his sword stood a while speechlesse. Presently he threw himselfe on the groun [...]: and after he had above a hundred times called on the name of Isatida, spoke these words aloud: What have I now to doe, faire Soule, but to follow you, and a [...]an­don those places that are deprived of the onely thing which made them amiable? But how can I resolve to leave a place that is filled with your selfe? You are not dead Isa­tida. I see every where heere the lustre of your faire eyes. Tis their pre [...]ence that gives me the beames that enlighten me. All this gold shines not, but because it en­compasseth you, and these diamonds have none other fire but that which you lend them. But O vaine consolations! O discourse unworthy a reasonable man! Thou [...] now no more Isatida but gone for ever. That faire body which charmed [...]e Sences, is separated from that sweet soule which so imperiously reigned over mine. That com­plexion so fresh and lively hath but one of is colours, or to say true ha [...]h lost [...]hem all; and those eyes that could not be seene without love are shut up that their change should not be noted, for in lieu of being the throne of love [...] they were living, are [...]ow become his tombe, for he is dead with them. Come & see what [...] done inhumane Father. And thou barbarous mother, approach and see how we [...] [...] kn [...]w [...]o end what you have begun. This is the insta [...] that shall free you from those [...] which your unhappy jealousies threw on you. And thou Isatida whose name [...] have for the last time in my mouth, if it be not a horror to thee to [...]urne th [...] eyes from hea­ven where thou dwellest, and cast them on this abhominable Earth; behold thy Zalma­tida ready to follow thee, and to follow thee in such a sort, that there shall be no more any consideration no [...] tyrany able to divide him from thee. Come then ( [...] th [...] p [...]as) faire Soule, and receive the other halfe of thy selfe, and thinke it no [...] [...] to accom­plish the promise you have so solemnly made me. After he had said thus he arose, and chusing the place where he intended to strike, was falling on the point of his Sword, when I caught him behinde, and turning away the unfortunate we [...]pon, hi [...]dred the greatest death that all the foregoing ages have bemoaned. He fell [...] i [...]o a great choler, but as soone as he had recollected himsel [...]e: my deare [...] (said he) I be­leeved not that after your testimoniall of so much affection to me, you would have dis­covered your ha [...]red at a time when I desired to make use of your courage. What would [...]ou should become of me? and why think you it not fit that one sole moment [Page 112] effect that which doubtlesly some houres shall or at least some dayes which you will needs add to my miserable life. I made no answer at all; but Bereamis, representing the wrong he would doe his reputation to kill himself, in lieu of resolving on a revenge worthy himselfe and his Mistris, knew so well to make him waver by so many different reasons, that he wonne him, and brought him out of the Temple. When we were returned to our lodging, and that we saw him fit to heare us, we strove to lenify his afflictions, and a little to divert his cogitations, intended to get him to depart the next day. But when we proposed it to him, he forbad us to speake of it, and was eight daies intire, to hearken after nothing but his griefes, and to doe nought else but moy­sten with his teares, the gold and pretious stones on Isatidaes tombe. At last over­come by our importunities he resolved to be gone. Yet upon this condition that wee should not speake to him either of Kingdomes, nor of warre, nor other matters that might divert his sorrow; and wee on the contrary told him, that he could not suffici­ently lament his losse, and so by little and little flattering his affliction, wee tooke of all that it had most dangerous and made us capable to be hearkned to. From Vacipala e­ven to the Port where in coming from Cuba we had left our vessell wee had none o­ther discourse but of Isatida. Zelmatida recounted to us all the Graces she had living; then told us the charms of her conversation & anon the vivacity of her wit. He extolled the knowledge she had in what ever was good, and forgot nothing of all that which might make her to be beleeved for more then mortal. At last after we had long traveled with much affliction wee came to the Port I last spoke of. Our Mariners ravished with joy to see us after so long absence, ran to salute Zelmatida, & to expresse their con­tentment, but he looked on them as strangers, nay even as enemies, and could scarce abide the prayers they made for his preservation. He went aboord, and entred into the same Cabine wherein Bajazet first saw him. I acquainted the Mariners in few words with all that which had befalne us, and then went to Zelmatida to know what he in­tended. Let's be gone (said he) and lose our selves farre enough from a World where­in I finde nothing but new causes of despayre. Let us fly from the unfortunate Quasmez, from the happy Guina Capa, and never more see those that may hereafter give us a sil­lable of consolation. In a word let us seeke out death. I perceived by his speeches that to irritate his melancholly was to lose him. I therefore commanded my Mariners to steere for the Island of Hayty, and did it of purpose to finde amongst the Spanyards some diversion that might be sufficient to cure the despayre. of my Master. In the meane while I was still with him, and intended for feare of offending not to speake a word, but when he should command me.

Our shippe was no sooner in full Sea but the winde shifted and made the Saylors feare a great Tempest: For, how could our voyage be happy, when the good fortune of my Lord the Inca forsooke him at his comming forth of Quito? It continued foule all night, and the day following we lost sight of land; and our Martiners, now no more Masters, abandoned the shippe to the mercy of the Sea. The king was insensible of whatsoever was spoke to him. But when one told him that we were certainly like to perish, and that there was no more hope of safety; I aske nought else (said he) and am where I have long wished me; the only thing that grieves me in this accomplish­ment of my desires, is to see that so many honest men had rather perish then to forsake so miserable a wretch as I. Those words drew teares from the most insensible of our Say­lors; and we all told him with one voyce, that we thought our selves too happy to be in such an estate as not to survive so good a Master. If my Soule (said he) were capa­ble of receiving a new affliction, your love and friendshippe would redouble my de­spayre. Whilest we were thus talking, our vessell was sometime driven towards the East, and then to the South. At last the Tempest ceasing, and our Mariners perceiving themselves in that fearefull extent of Sea which separates the old World from the new, came and told me that they were not farre off from Cape Vert; and that it be hooved us, to try to land there. They had already fitted their sailes for it, when they descryed Bajazets fleete, and being afraid of that encounter, steered for the Canaries, yet were we assayled as you have eyther seene or heard, and forced to yeeld; not so much by the courage of our vanquishers, as by the shew of Zelmatidaes obstinacy not to defend him­selfe. [Page 113] At this word, Gurruca speaking more softely: a see (said he) to the Princes the principall part of our Kings adventures. I have passed by many excellent particulari­ties, and clouded the raies of his heroicall life, by my simple relation, but you are enough cleere sighted to discover the splendour of his actions through the obscurity of my lan­guage. This accomplisht Favourite, ending in this manner his relation, left Polexan­der, Iphidamantus, Bajazez, and Alcidiana's slave, in an admiration so great, that they could no otherwise expresse it but by their silence.

They then arose, and went to finde Zelmatida, who was still walking on the terras­ses of the Castle. They heard him complaining, and now and then invoking the name of Isatida. I live (said he) and thou art dead. O weake and traytrous Zelmatida I How long wilt thou be a faith-breaker? Polexander came first to him, and witnessing to him the part he tooke in his grievances, and the admiration of his whole life: Doe not suffer (cried he) your sorrow to governe you so absolutely that it makes you forget what you owe to the memory of Isatida. Tis fit that Mexico should know by her pro­pe [...]ruine, rather then by that of her enemies, how much Zelmatida is to be feared. En­tertaine then by a vengeance, that should last as long as your selfe, a passion eternall, and give to the prophesies of your Prophet an explication worthy the virtues of Isati­da. Bajazet and Iphidamantus, who were of the same opinion, advised to the same purpose; and amongst the praises they gave Zelamtida, did all they could to winne him from despairing of Isatida's life. The chances of the world (said Iphidamantus to him,) have such strange revolutions, that every day our feares are as much deluded as our hopes; and I know by mine owne proper adventures, that we accuse the heavens for the death of those we love, whilst yet their goodnesse is doing miracles for the pre­servation of their lives. Fortune is thus pleased to crosse our contentments, and to play with that false providence whereby we would imitate the Sages. Zelmatida comming from his musings at the discourse of the Princes, yet replied to it as little as if he had not understood them; but answering his owne thoughts: Yet I live (said he) and my co­wardize hath made me criminall, that all the Mexicans deaths with mine owne cannot expiate my last faultes. But whither doe my vaine imaginations carry me? Must I yet thinke on the world? I, who came into it but only to dye, and who endure life, as a long and violent torture, to which the justice of heaven hath condemned me, at that very instant when I tooke a resolution to leave Isatida. These discouses had beene se­conded by many more, and the sad thoughts which these infortunate Lovers communi­cated to one another, by an amorous infection, had furnished them with new matter of entertainement, but that a furious winde arising, threatned them with one of those tempests to which all the Coasts of Africa and the neighbouring Isles seemed particu­larly to be condemned. This tempest accompanied with lightning and thunder, took soone from the Princes the sight of the heaven and the starres. The aire seemed all on fire. The sea carrying his waves even to the places where the thunders framed, strove to quench the flames. The shores roared, and the Isle it selfe trembling under the feet of her Inhabitants, seemed to breake those eternall bonds which had fastned it to the Center of the earth, and would by her flight steale from the fury of that conflagration. In effect, they saw fire fall from heaven in divers parts of the Island, but the raigne as suddainely following it, smothered the ill in its birth. Our foure Lovers having far o­ther enemies to contest with then the toilsomnesse and varieties of that Climat, retired to their chambers, and having no other witnesses of their actions but themselves, gave their griefs all the liberty that constraint and civility had tyrannically taken from them.

The end of the fourth Booke.

The first Part of POLEXANDER. The fifth Booke.

POlexander seeing his intention crossed by the violence of the tempest, could not sleepe all night. He accused innocent things for the ill which his passion made him suffer; and imputing the ordinary agitations of the windes and the sea to the cruel­ties of Fortune, perswaded himselfe that Nature and Heaven, Demons and men, looked on him as their common enemy. He threw even on Alcidiana's a version the cause of his misfor­tunes, and ascribing to her by an amorous Idolatry, that abso­lute power which is reserved to the Divinity: I feele (cride he oftentimes) I feele faire Queene the effects of your anger. The Elements who are no lesse sensible then men, search out occasions to please you, and affect the glory of be­ing your servants. They are armed to destroy me. They are affrighted with the threats of your declaration; and looking on me as a traytor pursu'd by your justice, they feare least that in favouring me, they may become my Confederates. At that word he remem­bred he had lodged Alcidiana's slave in his chamber, and that thought smothered the rest of his complaints. But the generous slave beginning: Leave (said he) your complaining on Alcidiana and Fortune. They seeme to be your enemies, but I doubt not, at the last, they will discover what they have concealed, and declare themselves for you. I know some things which in spite of your scruples, all your distrusts, and all the conceipts touching your selfe, shall be able to comfort you. I expected wee should have gone from this Island, to have acquainted you with them: But if the storme compells us to stay, I will relate to you some particularities which have never come out of my Prin­cesse Cabinet, and which are not knowne but to her selfe, Amalthea, and Me. Polex­ander, that could hope for nothing, answered the faire slave, as if he had doubted the truth of what he spoke; and beginning to him a long recitall of all the misfortunes had betided him, strove to perswade him that he was only borne but to be miserable. The slave harkned to all these adventures with an extreame attention, and answered there­to with so much judgment, that he brought Polexander to doubt of some things, which till that time he held most veritable, and certaine. Whilst these two different slaves thus entertained themselves, the day broake, and with the day the tempest redoubled. But the bad weather could not hinder the Rovers to come out of their Quarters, and assem­bled at the entry of the Fort to invite Bajazet to the dividing of the booty. He came from his chamber, and thinking not that what he went about worth the paines of ad­vertising his Guests; came where he was expected. As soone as he was in place where his Army might hea [...]e him, he spake thus: This is the day my companions that you shall receive a part of that which your valour and industry have deserved. Nothing shall be partaged by authority or favour. Every one shall have that which by justice he can hope [Page 115] for; the priviledges shall be considered. Therefore who ere hath any just pretentions let him present himselfe without raysing any tumult, and make them knowne to those who are appointed for their Examination.

After he had left all the Piratts in this pleasing expectation, and ordayned sixe of the eldest, to receive their petitions, and inquire the merit of those that presented them, he went with the rest of the Captaines right to the Magazines. By the way he met Iphi­damantus, and stopping to give him the complement, asked him whether he had so much curiosiy as to see the Magazines, and the riches which his valour had given them. Iphidamantus answering this civilitie with his accustomed sweetnesse, told Bajazet that he would waite on him. They went then to the storehouses, and wondred to see so much treasure: Those that kept it presenting the Inventory to Bajazet, did not only cause his wonder to redouble, but made every one that heard it read, beleeve himselfe more rich then all the Princes of Africa. Presently Bajazet called a Councell, to re­solve in what manner they might preserve the value of so many rarities, without discon­tenting the Souldier, or losing the most part of so fayre Jewels. All those of the coun­cell being of divers opinious, at last stuck to the opinion of Bajazet; which was, that they should take out of the old Treasure and the new. all that they could finde or money coyned to divide it among the Souldiers, and if that were not sufficient, they might add to it some Ingotts of gold and silver, that they might have cause to confesse that they had given them more then they ought to have promised themselves. Bajazet, see­ing so generall a consent in the Captaines, and desirous besides to signify to Iphidaman­tus, the esteeme that he would all should have of his courage, arose, and taking his friend by the hand, spake thus to all the Assembly: Tis at this time my Companions that we joyntly acquit our selves of a part of the debt we owe this valiant Christian. You have divers times already solicited me to give him that liberty which he hath so glori­ously deserved. I approve of your justice, and am of opinion that it be done as soone as possibly may be. But to accompany that action with some thing illustrious, let us give him some considerable Present, to make appeare to him that we make a far greater esteeme of men of valour then of great riches; and may be by that meanes we may so winne him, that he will have no desire to forsake us. This generosity. being approved in apparence by all them that heard it: Bajazet arose to goe chuse amongst all that was rarest amongst the treasure, some piece worthy of his liberality and Iphidamantes vir­tue. Scarce had he gone two steps, but he was staied short by the insolence of one of the Assistants. Thalemut an old and valiant Pirat, but the most brutish and insuportable of all those that beleved not God and feared not man, was the cause of this tumult. Long before this time had the beauty of Iphidamantus bred abhominable thoughts in this Di­vell; and that prodigious affection breeding in him a jealousy of Baiazet, he durst not t [...]l then make that breake out which was so long brooding within him. But when he s [...]w that his Generall amplified too much, as he list Iphidamantus merits, and made shew of an extraordinary [...]ffection to have presents presented: he was not able to containe himselfe, nor to give bounds to his fury, he therefore came streight to Baiazet, his mouch even foming, and his eyes on fire: and art thou not content (said he) putting his hand on his Cimiter to robb us of this slaves ransom? But that thou wilt have us pay for thy infamous actions with that which we have gotten by the expence of our lives? If thou be so amorous of this womanish fare, buy his honour with that which is thine owne: and doe not I know not under what vaile of feigned noblenesse, make the salary of a prostitute to be inroled with the reward of so many valiant men: At that word Baiazet wholy transported from himselfe, and Iphidamantus unwilling to live longer then to be avenged, set hands to their Swords never considering into what danger the credit which Thalemut had with his companions might throw them. Never saw ye two men equally offended, run more alike to be revenged. The one would prevent the other; and each beleved that how great soever the reparation of this iniury might be, yet it could not be satisfactory unlesse it were done by his owne hand. On the other side Thalemut threatned aloud, and seing the dispute of those two valiant men, gave him time to doe any thing collected from the silence and coldnesse of his companions an assurance that his boldnesse pleased them. These two occasions [Page 116] swelling him in pride, gave him the daring to strike a blow with his Scimiter at Baja­zers head, and with such a violence, that without heavens particular providence, they had seen expire by an infamous weapon, one of the most glorious lives of the world. Bai [...]zet avoiding this blow and looking on Iphidamantus: What (said he) are you con­federate with this Assasin and become enemie to your selfe? Will you be this Barba­rians second? Whilst he spoke thus, more then twenty or thirty of his Captaines in­terpose themselves betwixt him and Thalemut.

When hee saw they went about to pacify him, in few words hee made knowen his just griefe to them, and by his eloquence thought to obtayne the liberty of avenge­ing himselfe on his Enemy. And in that impatiency he was (not enduring the excuses wherewith the pirates would have moderated his anger) tis in vaine said he, (I will hearken to no consideration to the preiudice of mine honour, since my interest can win nothing on you. I command by the oath of fidelity you have made me, by the respect you owe to my place, and by the fresh memory of those victories I have got­ten you, that you will not suffer me to live wronged. Next if there remaine in you any desire of your owne preservation, get you from before me, and keeping off this Christi­an that cannot be else so by reason, make your selves not guilty of a crime whereof you are yet innocent.

Scarce had he ended these words, but those Barbarians stood astonished, and instead of continuing their requests, grew silent, and gave him way. And Iphadamantus (without any unjust obstination) unable to take from his frend the liberty of doing what he resolved, put off his revenge to another time, and somewhat retyred with all the Pyrats that were about him. The roome where this disorder happened was so spatious that it was fit enough for fight. You might have seene all the spectators playstered a­gainst the walls, and as unmoveable and affrighted, stood impatiently expecting the e­vent of so important a quarrell. Thalemut was at one end of the Hall, and Bajazet at the other. They ranne at one another. Bajazet, his Cymeter in his hand, prevented that abhominable Corsary, and bore him a blow that in all likelyhood should have be­reft his life. The resolute Pyrat put it by, and threw himselfe on Bajazet, with a reso­lution that made Iphidamantus feare the successe of the combat. Tis true, if Bajazet would have beene carefull of himselfe, he had not runne any great hazard, but lying o­pen with his body at all times, the sooner to decide the difference, he could not avoide a great wound, which Thalemut gave him on his right side. We are to judge equally of all things, there was a proportion in these two courages; but despayre had reduced Thalemut to sell his life at a high rate, and Bajazet, to take a way the cause of a new se­dition by the death of his Enemy, threw himselfe on headlong. Let none any more ac­cuse the Poets for inventing so strange blowes that their falsitie is visible; I dare say that in this combat was seene one so prodigious, that the history being very true and very scrupulous hath made me fearefull to leave it to posterity. Yet tis most certaine that Bajazet gave Thalemut such a back-blowe with his Cymiter, that taking him on the right side, he almost cut him in two, as if he would have sought for his revenge even in the heart of his enemy, and follow into his Center the abhominable bruitishnesse of that Monster. The fearefull sight of so great a blowe, comming from ae man extreamly wounded seazed on the harts of all those Barbarians, and confirmed them in the opini­on they had: that Bajazet was somewhat more invincible then the rest of men. And in lieu of fearing the like handling and by consequence wishing no good to the Author; they never shewed more affection to the Vanquisher then at that time, norlesse sor­row for the party overcome. With one voice they proclamed Thalemut guilty, and by usuall formes of their justice presently attainting and condemning him of treason and felony, adjudge him dead as he was, to have his head cut off, and to be placed in the number of those that were set as incorruptible guards at the entry of the Fortresse. Bajazet the meane while not able any longer to resist the weakenesse caused by his so much l [...]sle of blood, fell into the armes of Iphidamantus, and lost at once his sight and speech. The Prince thought him dead; and transported with his friendship, spake words sufficient to have caused him to be murthered by the Pirats. They yet with mut­tring let him alone, and seeing Polexander & Zelmatida haste thither went to meet them [Page 117] as to cleare themselves, from the death of Bajazet. Those Heroës witnessing no such an occasion, their sweetnesse of nature as well as the height of their soules, tooke their friend, themselves, and assisted by Alcidiana's slaves, Garruca and Bereamis carri­ed him into his chamber. Polexander, afterwards taking his brother aside, inquired how this mischance betided; but Iphidamantus dissolved in teares; and could give Polex­ander no other information of the businesse but what he could get by his sorrowes and sighes. At last, perceiving how much it afflicted his brother; he forced himselfe, and told him in few words the cause of the combate betweene Baj [...]zet and Thalemut. But, (said he to him) let us not stand on complaints for our friends disaster, let us rather seeke to some remedies, and not suff [...]r him to be lost since wee have yet time enough to save him. Polexander reserving to himselfe those resolutions he had taken to avenge the death of his friend intreated his brother to make use of all his credit he had with the Pi­rates to assist Bajazet, and not leave him to the mercy of those Barbarians, who (may be) would be glad to be rid of him. That Prince had an excellent Chyrurgion with him, called Diceus, who twice or thrice by his art and remedies had saved his life. On his care, he beleeved he might intrust the life of his friend, and therefore called him, and signifying the feare he was in for the helpe of Bajazet, commanded him to looke on his woundes, and to neglect nothing that might be available for his recovery.

Diceus expected no second command. He unclad Bajazet, and by the helpe of other Chyrurgions laid him on a bed. The greatnesse of his woundes much amazed them; yet unwilling to make shew of what they conceived, they stanched his bloud, and did it with the promptitude that was admited by all them that were present. Though this lessing of paine was very great, yet was it not enough to bring Bajazet from his fain­ting. He came not to himselfe till two or three houres after his first dressing; and to­wards evening beginning to know those that were about him, amongst others, he knew the three Princes. He would willingly have used his accustomed civilities, but Diceus forbad him to speake, and intreated his friends to retire, for feare that in their desire of comforting him, they might aggravate his malady. The first night passed in feare and disquiet and the two daies following gave no lesse sorrow to the Cortaries, then to Po­lexander and the two other Princes. The third day Bajazet rather chusing to dye then not to see his friends, intreated Diceus that they might come to him. To give him con­tent, Diceus promised to send for them on condition that he spoke not at all or at most but five or six words. The Princes who were (in one) next to Bajazets chamber, to the intent to see what passed, went to see him as soone as they thought by Diceus order, they might fitly doe it. Scarce had Bajazet seene them, but that he expressed a joy not to be hoped for from a man so sick and wounded, and intreating Polexander to come neere, spoke to him a pretty while in his eare, after which, he raised his voice, and be­gan to excuse himselfe to Zelmatida, but the Prince unwilling to give him that time, he held his peace, and a while thence calling by their names five or six of the principall Rovers that were come to visit him, he spake to them in this manner: My Compani­ons, since in the estate I am, I cannot promise to serve you any more, I have entreated Polexander not to forsake you. You cannot doubt of his courage nor experience. The only thing you are to feare is that he loves you not enough. But be assured of the con­trary. He hath promised me to doe in all as my selfe, if he find that his government please you. Make your selves worthy of a protection far more powerfull then mine, and be confident, that you will have no cause to lament my death. But (said he) turning to Polexander, I yet aske you one favour, and tis, that you will let me know in what case I am, and be not so cruell under the shadow of pity to let me dye without setling my af­faires. I have such things in my minde that the rest I expect in the other life depends ab­solutely on them; and I protest as being ready to give up my soule, that if I dye without time to discharge my selfe of one thing I never yet told, I shall dye desperate. There hapned then in the persons of those Pirates, a novelty that their nature might make passe for a prodigy. They were moved to pity, and as if from wild beasts which they were wont to be, they had beene suddainely turned to men, they felt themselves sensible of griefe, and wept in beholding the constancy of Bajazet. Fame that gets in every where, and hath wings to fly over the walls, when the gates are shut against her, pub­lished [Page 118] this sad newes in the Army, and knew to paint it to the Souldiers in such lively colours, that the desire of booty, was neither their only nor the strongest passion where­of they found themselves capable. Their shouts of joy were changed into lamentations, their laughter into teares, and the hopes of their safety being on the suddaine utterly extinct, they were strucken with the apprehension of a thousand different tortures. Yet, since it was the custome during the sicknesse of their Generalls, that the Pirates incam­ped and abode day and night in a body of an Army, they stirred not from the place where Bajazet had left them in going to the Magazins. Notwithstanding to give them some refreshing during so long a toile, it was advised to execute all that Bajazet had appointed. Tis true that the largesse was a great ease to their sorrow, and brought them to themselves by the greatnesse of the present liberality, and promise of a second that should surpasse the first. On the other side Baj [...]zet being left to rest for the space of foure and twenty houres, begun in good earnest to feele how extreame great his wound was. Yet as weake and pained as he was, it was but little more perceived then in the Princes. They were so cast downe with griefe and feare, that it was hard to be judged who was the sickest, of them or Bajazet. When they were about to take open the greatest tent, there was not a man in the chamber, whose feare gave him not seve­rall conjectures, though they were all sad ones and deadly. The Chyrurgions were not the last that doubted of the vertue of their remedies, and power of their art, since Baja­zet had had withall a Fever above thirty houres. They already heard him talke idely, and now and then sigh and lament: Sometimes he seemed to threaten, and then that he tooke leave with a great deale of sorrow from some one whom he called his soule and his life. By reason of this they du [...]st not meddle with his wound, but when they saw they were not to deferre it any longer, Diceus and his Companions put their hands to the worke. As soone as the hurt place felt the paine, there gush't out a stream [...] of blood, by whose losse Bajazet fell againe into his first swoundings. Yet they gave not over to finish what they had begun, and when twas done, neere all the Chyrurgions confessed that they had seene signes of a dangerous wou [...]d, and said openly that if with­in twelve houres the accidents which began to appeare, ceased not, there was no more hope of him. Diceus only despaired not, assuring Polexander, t [...]t if bsides the Fever, there happened not some other thing, he promised himselfe to save Bajazet. Whilst every one according to his severall passion, was of the one or the others minde, the wounded man came out of his swound, and began to sigh so often that they well judged some great thing afflicted him. As soone as they saw him well come to himselfe, they gave him something to strengthen him, and perceiving he had a minde to speake every one retired to take from him that desire. All the night passed in this manner, and the next day till evening they thought he would have dyed. He knew it well enough and fearing least death might prevent him, commanded paper and incke to be brought. Zel­matida and Polexander intreated him, and the Chyrurgions threatned, to divert him from those strainings which they foresaw he must undergoe if he began to write. But neither of them could doe any thing. There was no remedy but to give him what he called for; but he had not writ above two or three lines, but the extreame pa [...]ne he had put him to, was like to cast him into a swound. He grew setled againe and resolute to what he had undertaken, and making a little Roll of the paper in which he had writ, drew from under his shirt a Picture boxe that was enamelled with green, incarnation, and white. As soone as he had opened the boxe, his strength failed, the cover fell out of his hand wi [...]h the Roll that he held, and himselfe fell backward on his bolster senselesse. Iphidamantus was the first hat ran to him; who putting his arme under Bajazets head for ease, saw the Picture in the box. The sight had almost done him as much hurt, as to Bajazet. He made shew of a great alteration, retired two or three paces, changed co­lour, and as if he was become Bajazets enemy, had no more care of his recovery, and was a long while in withdrawing his eyes from that portract. Those that tooke of the novelty, at first wondered: But ignorant of the true cause took Iphidamantus transport for an eff [...]ct of friendshippe. At last he became recollected, and impossible to hide all his conc [...]ptions, O God said he, must mine eyes deceive me? Reason would not have [Page 119] me beleeve what they see. Bajazet, then opening his eyes as if he had awakened with Iphidamantus words; and comming to himselfe: just heaven (said he) with a dying voice, must it needs be that after you had obliged me in occasions such as I most desired not, you would forsake me in the principall? Permit not, if it be your pleasure, that I perish under the burthen that orewhelmes me! Iphidamantus, as well as Polexander and Zelmatida was deceived in the explication of those words. They tooke them as if Bajazet had a desire to live; but that passion which cannot be praised in a brave cou­rage, was too much contemned by him, to cause thence the least lament in the world. He shewed an anger that his weakenesse had surmounted him at that time, and strove againe to take the little paper, and the cover of the box which he felt in his bed. Faine would he have shut the box, and put in the little Roll he had, but Polexander helped him since Bajazet found himselfe unable to doe it. As soone as he had put backe the box where 'twas wont to be, he cast his eyes on the Princes, and holding his hand out weakely to them; see (said he) how fortune playes with us and our hopes! But what? It is no lesse injustice to complaine of her cruelties, then here is of weakenesse if we fol­low her when she smiles. Whilst he spake thus, Diceus was behind Polexander, who intreated him to hinder Bajazet from further talking: Polexander wrought so, that Ba­jazet tooke notice of Diceus, and so fitly that it tooke effect. Indeed, the generous sick­man apperceiving it, I am still (said he) and so on all hands that your eyes aske my si­lence. Yes my friends, I grant you that favour as I would doe you greater, were I in the same case I was three dayes since. During this sad converse the night came on, and eve­ry one thought it best to leave Bajazet to his rest. There were no more but the Princes and five or six of Bajazets most affectionate servants that staied neere him, His Chyrur­gions watched with him till day breake, and thought it fit to take off the second dres­sing. Polexander, Iphidamantus, and Zelmatida came in, when they were on that reso­lution, They intreated Bajazet patiently to suffer the paine they might put him too, and assured him he should soone be in far better health. Bajazet only smiled at that discourse, and let the Chyrurgions doe what they pleased. Diceus, himselfe, having seene the dangerous wound, was in as little hope as the rest: And the Princes seeing in what extremity their friend lay, could not so well containe themselves, but that they let fall some teares as often as they turned their eyes on him. He alone was the man least sensi­ble of his hurt, and who looked on the dressing of his wound with so great a strength of spirit, that you might have said, he saw some strangers body dressed, or that his owne was impassible. Whosoever came neere him, he presently comforted, and by his ordi­nary remonstrances, left them nothing to say that came prepared to resolve him for death. The day ensuing this dangerous night, was no more favourable to him then th [...] three former. The Fever left him not, his ravings redoubled, and all his friends looked on him as they had already seene him in his coffin. After so many ill houres, the fourth and fift dressing gave his friends, the hope they had lost; and Bajazet himselfe con­fessed that he found some kind of ease. He would not lose that good moment, and ther­fore prayed that instantly some should advertise all his Captaines, that before his death, [...]e desired to have once more the contentment to see them; and to instruct them in [...]ose things which were necessary for their common safety, and his particular conso­lation. His command was executed with an extreame diligence, and two houtes after his chamber was full of those old Corsaries, who by their long services, had attained [...] the charges of the sea and war. Bajazet seeing them about his bed, caused the cur­taines to be opened, and shewing to all a constancy that death it selfe was not able to shake, in this manner spoke to them: I have not (my Companions) sent for you to be witnesses of the consent I bring to this inexorable necessity, which wills, that I forsake with the command that you gave me, the felicities I promised my selfe from your [...] and assistance. To speake in generall, there is a great deale of glory to looke on death with contempt, and to receive it with pleasure. But when a man hath lived some time among you, this vulgar magnanimity loseth the most part of his luster, and wee learne that the contempt of life and death, is but the first essay of courage, to which yet, you beleeve there is due not the meanest praises. I dye then, without telling you, that [...] sor­row not for life; and that of all the afflictions which my precipitated destiny throwes [Page 120] on me, I will disclose to you only two, since I cannot bury them with me, without lo­sing that repose which accompanieth the eternity of the second life. The one is the griefe to dye before I had acquitted me of the extraordinary obligations by which you have plucked me from the outrages of fortune, and made me conceive high hopes in the very extremity of my despaire. The other (which not to lye to you would make me wish for a continuation of life, if that wish could preserve me) is, that I dye ingratefull and perjured, and leaving in danger an innocent which my fury hath ingaged, my death makes me guilty of her losse, and throwes on my memory the curses of all faithfull soules. Tis in your power my friends, to free me of these troubles, to hinder the crimes which destiny would have me perpetrate to disengage my faith, to save mine honour, and in briefe that after death, I may live, love and fight. Promise me then, but sweare it to me by the holynesse of your great Prophet, that without any further particular infor­mation of those things wherein I would engage you; You will execute them under the command of Polexander and Iphidamantus. Interrupt me my friends, and give me if you please the last proofe of your generous obedience. Bajazet, could goe no further, the vehemency of his action having exhausted the little strength that was left in him. He was therefore constrained to lye downe againe, and to shut his eyes to stay his spi­rits that began to be dissipated. Polexander and his brother that were at his beds head, gave him some ease, and intreated the Pirates by their usuall generosity not to delibe­rate longer on so just a request. Bajazet opened his eyes at the speech of those two Heroës, and witnessing by his sighes, how impatiently he waited for the Rovers answer; either hasten (said he) by a favourable blow, that lingering moment that must give an end to my feares and wishes; or graunt me that which I aske you, that so without any despaire I may endure the flownesse of that clocke which must strike the houre of my departure. The Pirates unwilling that their Generall should againe solicit them: at once lifted up their hands for a signe that they accorded to what he requested them. Those that were neerer to him spake for the rest, and told him that God was too just to heare the prayers of Mahomets enemies, and to deprive the Alcoran of so great and so zealous a Defender. Bajazet smiled at these consolations, and though by a little sha­king of the head, he shewed that he could no more abide to be flattered with the hope of life, yet he failed not to thanke them for their wishes, and intreated with a great deale of civility that they would goe take that rest which his being ill had so often in­terrupted. And in so saying he embraced them all, one after another; and at their de­parture, remember (said he) that nothing can dispence with you for that which you have promised me. They swore againe to fullfill it, and for feare of being troublesome to him, went out of his chamber, and retired into their Quarters. Bajazet having none but Polexander, Iphidamantus, and Zelmatida with him, lay sometime regarding them, with eyes that spake better then he could doe, the griefes which the necessity of their seperation brought on him. But perceiving that thought quickly drew teares from his eyes, he left it, and turning to the two brothers: It behooves me (said he) to make a profession of my faith before you, and tell you that the extravagant opinions of the Al­coran, have never drawne from my soule the beleefe which I sucked with my milke. The holy Abrineias and the vertuous Andromeda have given me thoughts far more pure and unlincked from flesh and blood then are those preached by Mahomet: I con­fesse that the errors of my youth, and the blindnesse of humane condition hath corrupted that first purity, and to satisfie my sences I have dissembled my faith, and concealed those motions which were expected in my obedience by the just jealousie of a God that would not have our owne interests to be more powerfull then his glory. But without declaring my beleefe more particularly to you, know that I hold with Abrineias, that the true Worshippers are those that adore in spirit and truth that God which they can­not comprehend.

Let us now come to such things as to me are most considerable next the salvation of my soule. I love passionately (my brothers) I love a beauty so high by her birth, and so miraculous by her vertues, that all that which the feare of the eternall justice can exact from me, is, to leave her, and not to despaire.

Another mishap is lincked with this. This yong N [...]ell is a captive, and suffers un­der [Page 121] the power of an old Tyrant, such persecutions most assuredly makes her wish for death every day that enlightens her. Tis for her deliverance (my deare brothers) that I have taken the boldnesse to engage you without your consent, and to give the Pirats a word which I have not yet received from you. Be pleased not to condemne a liberty that not only shewes how generous I esteeme you, but withall, that I beleeve how since thence alone the wretched have neede of your assistance, it must be inferred that you hold your selves necessarily bound to succour them. I am therefore assured that you will accomplish that wherein I have engaged you. Alcippus, that will shortly bee come back, will informe you of that which my wound and other considerations per­mits me not to tell you. I beseech you stay here for him, and when I am dead, take from his mouth the meaning of those things I have written, and inclosed in the boxe you have seene.

Bajazet felt such a payne in finishing this discourse, that hee gave not leisure to the two brothers to answere to his propositions. Diceus and the other Chyrurgeons ha­sted to him, and seeing no naturall cause for this unexpected accident, told the Princes, that Bajazet's wound was the least of his sicknesse, and that their applications strove in vaine to cure him, since it was growne remedilesse by the agitations and troubles of his minde. Bajazet this while lay on his bed as dead, and had hee not beene reliev'd by remedies more availeable then those of Physick, hee had begun a slumber which should never have ended. The three Princes seeing the Chyrurgians despayre, were brought againe to their Laments and Teares, and staying, as tyde to Bajazet, endeavou­red to beguile both their knowledge, and even to doubt of what they saw. At last hee came from his swound, but it was with such dreamings and ravings, that the imagi­nation produceth, when it hath received some violence. 'Tis sufficient (said hee) not knowing what he said; that your virtue and beauty hath begot my passion: It hath no neede eyther of your consent or complying to preserve it; even that which hath given it being will make it lasting. 'Tis free from the power of time and fortune; and by a prodigie worthy your soveraigne puissance, those effects that usually ruine other affections, serve only to establish and confirme mine. But where are you faire Prin­cesse? Barbarous villanes have forced you away, and if the lightning that shootes from her eyes did not by a severe chastisement prevent their abhominable designes, you should be the deplorable prey of their infamous desires. Ah Monsters! come not neere a Miracle which the heavens admire, and nature hath made, to rayse her power above all others. Respect (yee prophane) this visible Divinity! acknowledge the sanctity of the place where you would commit your Sacriledge! and yee abhominable Tyrants, dare you deprive her of liberty that should command the whole World? Hold yee hangmen, or my just fury—At the end of that word; hee would have risen and lifted up his arme, as if hee had beene about to strike; but Polexander, Iphidamantus and Zel­matida held him, and knew by this strange and judicious raving, that the illustrious Corsairy was extraordinarily persecuted by that Tyrant, whose violences they all three felt, almost equally.

Polexander first spoke, and to settle this troubled minde, sayd, what he thought most powerfull to give a period to its disorders. Bajazet yet lay almost an houre, without be­ing well come to himselfe, and shewed by his discourse that hee remembred not what hee had said. He even knew not of his swounding; and beleeving he had slept, excus'd him to the three Princes, that he had given way to the force of sleepe. Those Hercës being extreamly glad to see so violent an agitation followed by so sweete a repose; told him that he had watched long enough to be overcome by sleepe, and advised him to end the night as he had begunne it. The Physitians and Chyrurgians thought that they might give him some ease if they tooke off the dressing which had already beene twice foure and twenty houres on his wound. They therefore dressed him, and finding all signes of infallible recovery, told him, that there was nothing now to be wisht for, ey­ther from Art or Nature, for that both had equally well laboured; and that it depended on none but himselfe to be absolutely out of all danger. With that Iphidamantus spoke, and embracing Bajazet with the tendernesse of a true brother, if you love us (said hee) beleeve us rather then the motions of your minde. They are but flatterers and traytors, [Page 122] that would undoe you in feyning to love you. They present to you your misfortune farre greater then it is; and employing your noblenesse against your selfe, make you be­leeve that you are reduc't to that point, that you have neyther heart nor faith, if you are yet capable of hoping and living. Stop your eares against these Impostors; beleeve your friends, and be confident that you have no malady absolutely incurable. Your Phy­sitians promise the curing of your wound, and I will doe as much for your amorous mis­fortunes. You adore the beauty of the person that makes you despayre, and some ad­venture to fill the history of your life, restoring to you that worthy Subject of your affe­ction, will give you more content then you thinke to have lost in losing the hope of reviewing it.

Bajazet sighing often at Iphidamantus words; It will be very hard for me (said he) not to suffer my selfe to be perswaded by his eloquence that doth not lesse charme the Eyes then the Eares. I will beleeve you my deare Iphidamantus. I cannot doubt of the truth of your promises, without distrusting a power which I set immediatly under that which is infinite. Zelmatida, who had beene a long time silent, seeing that Bajazets despayre was not cleane voyd of hope, suffered himselfe to be overcome by his ordinary imaginations and expressing them by words as sad as themselves were; 'tis for thee a­lone deplorable Prince (said he) to whom there remaines neyther hope nor comfort. The most miserable are not deprived of that. Thou only, as a prodigy in Nature as well as in Love, thou despairest not, and yet livest void of any the least hope. Thou know­est none but death can give thee any rest, or at least insensiblenesse of sorrowe, and yet goest thou drawing out a life through the one and the other World, and dar'st not take that last resolution which farre lesse miseries then thine have put into the hearts of the most cowardous and fearefull. Polexander turning his eyes on Zelmatida, with such lookes as seemed to condemn the injustice of his complaints, told him without speak­ing, that despaire as well as hope was a genus under which divers species were inclo­sed. That that despayre was the sweetest, which depriving us of all hope, and unlink­ing us absolutely from all life, resembled those unpoysoned potions, which by little and little freezing the blood and the Spirits, and confounding death with sleepe, make those beleeve whom they kill, that they doe but slumber. See Zelmatida what manner of one yours is (said he) but mine is of a kinde farre more prodigious. It proceeds from hope it selfe. It divides my Spirit, and as I might say, teares it in peeces; imitating those cruell executioners that, at once, torment all the members together, and doe so, that of many tortures, they frame one dreadfull, that hee which suffers, dies as many times as his body hath parts. Diceus imposing these Lovers silence, too ill handled by their passions, intreated Bajazet to take a little rest, and to give to the remedies and Nature, time to perfect that which they had so well begunne. The two brothers and Zelmatida, taking this spoken as well to them as to Bajazet, tooke leave of him, and retyred into their ordinary lodgings. Bajazet passed the night without eyther dis­quiet or raving.

The next day the Princes visited him, and found his countenance so good, that they no more doubted what Diceus had promised. The following dayes gave them new as­surances; and being no more in trouble but for themselves, they felt their ills growe worse by degrees, as Bajazets diminished. But Polexander when he had no more the diversion which that Princes wound gave him, he cast himselfe altogether on the con­sideration of his owne. He represented to himselfe, that there were no kinde of obsta­cles where withall his desires had not beene crossed, still as he overcame them; and that for the height of despayre, he attempted a thing which neyther wisedome, nor courage, nor force, could ever bring to passe. These melancholy thoughts, which for some yeeres had beene the sole entertayning of his minde, made him distaste all kinde of pleasures, and have an aversion to all company. And since he was in the Pyrats Island­there was not a day passed in which he had not beene among the rocks and deserts of that place, to give himselfe in prey to the fury of his disquiets. He went forth all alone, and leaving himselfe to be guided by two passions equally blinde, lost himselfe so, that he was constrained to passe the night, eyther in the deepe bottome of some precipice, o [...] on some point of a rock. The faire slave of Alcidiana bore him company in his retyre­ments, [Page 123] [...] [Page 122] [...] [Page 123] but [...]t was rarely, because our Hercë would as well hide himselfe from him, as f [...]om Z [...]lmatida and Iphidamantus, and in his afflictions avoyded all other witnesses, but th [...]e that were incapable of comforting him. One day going out of the Fort with the [...]re Pallantus, he was tempted with a desire to know the true inclinations of Alcidi­ [...]na, but condemning as soone that curiosity; must (said he to himselfe) Alcidiana make a [...]cond Declaration to have thee know that thou art unfortunate, and that 'tis her ab­sol [...]te w [...]ll that thou perish. Pallantus infallibly heard those last words, for at the in­ [...]nt that they were ended, he turn'd him to the Heroë; and as if hee would be willing [...]o answere him, I wonder (said he) at the obstination with which you resist all that [...]n give you any comfort. Beleeve me Polexander, you are not sick of any of those [...]ases which are not cured but by extreame remedies. You have but this to doe, to [...] much, and not to despaire. I have made you a proposition some dayes past, which should be extreamly deare to you, and in the meane while I see, that you eyther con­te [...] it, or feare it will not bring you out of the troubles wherein you are, 'Tis neyther the one no [...] the other (reply'd Polexander:) but when I come to thinke that Alcidiana would have me die, and that my very name is so odious to her, that by a solemn decla­ [...]ation she hath forbidden it to be pronounced within her territories; I avoyd all that may lessen my despayre, and strive to rid me of a life for which all moments make me a [...]ll, since they are so many witnesses of the little obedience I beare to the com­mandements of Alcidiana.

Ah Polexander (answered Pallantus) perish, but doe not murmure. Alcidiana is a Divinity, which is no lesse just when it punisheth, then when it recompenceth. Her virtues are exempted from those faults which proceede of humane frailty, she doth well to pursue you as one guilty, since your passion having offended her virtue, by a little too much liberty, hath oblieged her to chastise you by distance and silence. But O! How advantageous is this to you? for to consider matters well; is it not true, that since you cannot be belov'd of Alcidiana (for men must not pretend to that happinesse) 'tis an ex­treame glory to you to have enforced that divine Queene to have recourse to extraor­dinary meanes to disdeceive her people, and make them knowe that she lov'd you not. Make a long and a serious reflection on a matter of so great weight, and you shall be for­ced to confesse, after you have well thought on it, that the hatred Alcidiana shewes towards you, is farre more obliegeing, then the indifferency which shee hath for al [...] men else. But that I may make you more capeable of these Mysteries, I will relate to you some of them, and drawe (as I might say) the veyle from before those secrets which have never been discovered. Whilest the faire slave talked thus, Polexander was walked on to the Sea shore, and staying there the better to heare him, wonne him to begin the recitall of those wonders which promised him so much comfort and re­pose. Pallantus not perceiving that the affection he bore to Polexander, was incompa­tible with the fidelity he owed his Princesse, began in this manner a relation not lesse glorious for that divine Queene, then advantageous for out Hercë.

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.

The End of the first Part of Polexander.

The second Part of POLEXANDER.

The first Booke.

THat blind and capricious power which hath chosen for the foundation of its Throne, the instability of the waters, was so cruell to our despairing Lovers, that from Baja­zets Isle till he came within ken of the Coasts of Moroc­co, would not oblige them with any apparance of a tem­pest. Polexander, (vexed, with so fatall a gratification) made continuall prayers against the calme, and his life. And Zelmatida sending to Heaven a thousand pitifull supplications, besought it with teares, by a sudaine death to deliver him from the misfortune of not seeing Isatida. Whilst they thus vainly afflicted one another; their ship passed from the torrid Zone to the temperate, and leaving behinde them the fearefull plaines of the Ocean came neere the Coastes of Africa. The Marriners had already descryde the smoaking point of that Mountaine, (the highest in the world) which the Spaniards call Pico de Teyda; and Polexander was come out of his Cabin with the Indian Prince to shew him that wonder of the Isle of Teneriffe, and by consequence a part of his Dominions: When he saw shine among the waves, I know not what, that sometimes seemed to him glistering as gold, and otherwhile red as fire. This strange ob­ject interrupted his sad meditations, and holding him fixed by his eyes, gave him such impatiencies and curiosities where withall a minde so abated as his, in all likelihood was not capable. After he had beene sometime in this contemplation; he that was on the scuttle, cryde out that he saw a ship on fire. At that noise Polexander turned away his eyes from the object, which he scarce any longer saw through his long earnest loo­king on it, and by this diversion almost recovering his sight, tooke notice, that that which had so long amazed him, was the vessell which the Sentinell had discovered. Presently he commanded his Pilot to beare up to it; and when he was at a distance proportionable to his sight, he knew that the ship was not on fire, as the Sentinell ima­gined, but that it bore sayles of the colour of fire, and glittered with gold in divers pla­ces. This vessell said he to himselfe is too stately and rich for a ship of warre or merchan­dize. The Princes of Morocco have none so brave. It cannot be Baj [...]zets. O heaven! Shall I beleeve it (said he? Yes most assuredly tis the sacred ship of Alcidiana. He stop­ped at that word, and musing a while on his imagination, doubt not (said he aloud) in striking Zelmatida on the arme, 'tis the very same. What? Said Zelmatida is that there? Our Heroë came to himselfe, and beseeching the Prince to pardon his transport: Ei­ther all likelihood deceives me, or the vessell which you see is the same, which for the space of two yeeres, I have unprofitably sought after. Goe up to it then replide Zel­matida. I intend it said Polexander. But wee must have a care that she doe not escape [Page 146] us as she hath done divers times. And in finishing these words, he was come so neere her that he noted the Devices that were painted on the sailes. You might see shine a­gaine that immortall Bird that seemed to have made her a Crowne with the very Beames of the Sun; and they read in some places some Arabian words which signified: I am sacred, for I am Alcidiana's. Wee need doubt no more, (cryde Polexander) to your armes my Companions; let every one prepare him to doe his best. But let none what ere he be, dare to shoote till I command him.

Whilst he yet spoake the proud vessell presented her right side, and gave him foure vallies of Cannon one after another. He ran the hazard to be taken off by a bullet, which striking along the ship, from the prowe to the poope, pierced two of the sayles, and carried away a peece of one of the Masts. For all that Polexander would not have his Artillery discharge; but commanding his Marriners to clap on all their sayles, thought that Lynceus being prepared for fight, had no desire as at other times to save himselfe by flight. Whilst he was thus reasoning with himselfe, those that were in the rich vessell offended that a little ship should dare to carry her sayles aloft before her, would have satisf [...]ction, and to bring her to her duty discharged all her ordinance at her, which pier­ced her in three places, and killed Polexander fifteene or twenty of his men, and two of Zelmatida's. This act of hostility should have obliged Polexander to repell force by force. Yet he did not. But aboording the proud ship without shooting, he called for Lynceus divers times and crying aloud to make himselfe understood: Wee come not up to you (said he) as enemies; wee know that you belong to the most potent and fairest Queene of the world, and that knowledge obligeth us to respect you as sacred persons. Give over then to war with us, since wee are as well as you the slaves and a­dorers of Alcidiana; and if you doe not please to receive us into your ship, yet at least accept of us to serve you for direction or convoye: Scarce had Polexander finisht these words, but a man armed with armour of gold, who carried on his buckler the portraict of a Queene, presented himselfe on the side of the ship, and lifting up his sword; I would know (said he) adressing him to Polexander, who are those that dare take to them the glorious title of Alcidiana's slaves. The Prince insteed of answering stood as fastned on the buckler of the Knight with the golden armour, because he knew that 'twas Alcidi­ana who was there pictured, and adoring that face which could not be seene without admiration: O thou Sun (cryde he) that only givest light to mine eyes, when shall I be permitted to burne my selfe in thy divine flames? He had not ended the last word, when the golden Knight stroake with his sword so weighty a blow on his head, that if it had not beene covered with a very good Casque, he had surely clove [...] it in sunder. This blowe awakened him from his extasie, and forced him to take his weapon in his hand. Thy rashnesse is great (said he presently) to him that strooke him, but if thou be either subject or slave to Alcidiana, I beare her respect enough to endure this injury. I am sent by Alcidiana (replide insolently the golden Knight) to correct those bold fel­lowes like thy selfe, which dare to vaunt themselves to be the slaves of Alcidiana. To me alone appertaines so illustrious a quallity, and if thou doe not throw thy selfe at my feet to aske me pardon for being so audacious; Know, the day is come wherein thou must pay for it with thy life. In ending these threats he stroake Polexander the second time, and by his language made him well know that he was mistaken. Our Heroë pro­voked to see himselfe so far from his hopes, and besides transported with a just jealou­sie, cast himselfe into his enemies ship, and made that proude one feele the weight of his arme so rudely, that with the first blowe he laid him for dead at his feete. Zelmatida that had beene a spectator of that action, could not sufficiently admire it; and standing in a posture ready to second his friend, in case he were assailed by the men of the van­quished party, tooke off their resolution of undertaking it. Polexander the while his Ri­vall recovered not from his swound, commanded some of his followers to helpe him, and before he left him, desired to know what he was. A venerable Moore (for his age) therewith spake thus: Knight (said he) you may well judge by the cost­ly and pompous trayne, this man now stretched at your feet goes withall, that he should be of some eminent condition. Certainely, Africa, and I say more, Europe, have not any Soveraigne that can dispute with him for greatnesse. He is borne Prince of Moroc­co, [Page 147] of Fez, and many other Kingdomes. 'Tis the hardy Abdelmelec Son of the puissant Hely. I will not tell you that the beauty of a Queene, which none can see but in pain­ting, hath brought him in love. You may know it well enough by the words he gave you, by this fatall portraict (with that he tooke up from the Deck Abdelmelech's buck­ler) and by the Cyphers and Devices, which shine in every part of this ship. Father (said Polexander interrupting him) you may well make me understand many particula­rities whereof I am ignorant; but since it may be that they will not be very pleasing to me, I shall be glad to know nothing of them. I therefore leave you at quiet, to the end you may be the more industrious in the succouring of Abdelmelec; and for feare that this Portraict may run the hazard to be wronged by the sword of some one that respects it not so much as my selfe; I intreat you to give it me; and to tell your Prince when he hath recollected his spirits, that I should have thought to have done an act of injustice if I had left so faire a thing in the power of a man that knew no beter how to preserve it. And in saying thus, he tooke the buckler which the old man held, and returning into his owne ship commanded his Pilot, to steere againe his course for the Island of Alcidiana. Zelmatida received him as a Conqueror, and highly praised his action. But our Heroë, blushing for an honour that cost him so little: I have done nothing (said he to that Prince) but taught the poore Abdelmelec, that his strength is not proportioned to his courage, or rather I have made the unfortunate Polexander to know that as often as he will promise himselfe any contentment, he shall take the pleasure to deceive himselfe. No, no, he must no more hope, since he hopes so vainely, nor, that, for whatsoever may be [...]ide him, he reject the councell that despaire gives him. That's a resolution which I should long since have taken, said (sadly to him) Zelmatida. But whether I deceive my selfe, as you doe: or whether it be some unknowne power that workes me to this error; there is not a moment but I flatter my selfe with some new hope; and imagine spight of all reason and truth, that I shall one day see Izatida victorious over the grave, shine with the same allurements wherewithall mine eyes have been hereto­fore so pleasingly dazeled. Whilst but to speake plainly these two-to-be-lamented Princes knew not whereon to resolve, their ship driven by an extreame fresh wind arrived at Polexanders Iland; where he was received by his Vice-roy and his sub­jects with such joy and acclamations as cannot be expressed; and caused Zelmatida to be entertayned with so much pompe, that he could not have been more magni­ficently received if he had made his entry into the stately Citty of Cusco. He was lodged in the Pallace that Periander had caused to be built, and served with all the abundance and delicates that are seen in the extraordinary feastings of the prime Kings of Europe. But if Zelmattida were insensible of all the greate entertainment he re­ceived; Polexander was not lesse, of all the delights of his countrey and the affecti­on of his people. They sig [...]ed both continually after those things which themselves imagined impossible to be attayned. The one desired the life of his dead loue, and the other wished to arrive at a place Inacc [...]ssible. The one would dye to [...] rejoy­ned to the beauty which he had lost; and the other would rather perish then t [...] live farre from those faire eyes which had robbed him of his liberty. In a word they were both weary of every place they came in and principally of rest, and all plea­sures; for they had scarce tasted the delights of the fortunate Islands but they were cloyde with them. From the first dayes of their landing, they talked of putting to sea againe, and attempt againe either to make themselves happy or to be lost for ever. One evening as they were talking of it, one came and advertis'd Polexander that there was a ship come into the Port, and that a lady of quallity therein sent to know whether he were returned. Tell her (sayd Polexander presently to him that brought the newes) what you know, and if she have neede of my Service I will waite on her any where that she shall please to command me. Scarce had he ended this complyment., but he was told that the Lady was in the Pallace. He therefore intreated Zelmattida to give him leave, to performe the honour of his lodging, and leaving him with his people went to meet the Lady: which he did on the greate staires clad and attended like a person of great qualitie. He did her all kinde of civilities, and asked her pardon for the paines she had taken. The Lady [Page 148] having rendred him his Complyments, and signified her joy of meeting him, lift­ed up a little the veyle that covered her, and feigning twas to set it higher, discoverd an eye more sparkling then that starre which carries the Name of the Mother of love, and a complexion so bright that even though it were not white, there leapt from it a certaine luster which on a suddaine dazel [...]d the eyes of the most cleere­sighted. Polexander noted all these beautyes, and renewing his Compliments, lead the Lady to one of the stateliest apportments of his Palace. There he off [...]ed all that he could off [...]r her, and besought her to make use of his service. I accept your offers (replyed that charming beauty) and receyve the testimonyes of your courtesye, with so much the more satisfaction since by them I am confirmed in the hatred which I have justly conceived against the most brutish and perfidious of Princes. I will relate you the history when your are pleased to heare it; for 'tis to the end to informe you that twice already I have saild from Africa, into this Iland.

Polexander, told her that he was very unfortunate to be absent as such times as she took the paines to come thither. But Madam (saide he) you have need of rest. With your permission I will go and give order to your affaires and leave you at liberty. When you are pleased to see me you need but send the meanest of your servants, and I shall not faile presently to waite on you. The Lady much satisfied with these courtesies and having been a long while with her women to right the disorders of her dressing, she commanded one of her eunuches to go to Polexander and aske him the houre when he would please to give her Audience. The Prince who was returned to Zel­matida made his most particular excuses that he was so often constraynd to faile of what he ought him, and leaving him with Alcippus and Garruca, returned into the chamber of his new guest. Assoone as she saw him, she came to meete him, and made him very pleasing excuses, for the liberty she tooke with so greate a Prince, and presenting him her hand, lead him to the innerside of her bed, and set her downe on it, that she might so have her back turn'd to the light, and that her face naturally sweet, might receive new graces by that art. Polexander setting himselfe right against her, marked all her sweetnesses and allurements, and sate surpris'd rather then charm'd with that addresse wherewithall she govern'd her quick and languishing eyes: she presently began to speake, and cuting off all kinde of preparation: I am sayd she the daughter of Muley Hassen King of Thunis. I have a sister elder then my selfe, which is call'd Bencerida Ennoramita. Her adventures are not much more happy then nine; and if I would cast my disgraces on any other then their veritable Author, I could say that she is justly punished for giving me ill councell. Yet I will speake no more of it, but shallbe well satisfied to discharge all my choler against that traitour who feigned not to love me but onely to make me undergo all that might be eff [...]cted by his cruelty. My Name is Perselida Amatonta Ennoramita, and that you might not believe I mistake my selfe in my discourse, you may please to know that the Name of Ennoramita is a Name that all the Princesses of my Race are obliged to carrie in remembrance of that famous Queen which delivered the kingdome of Tu­ns from the tyranie of the Arabians. The Territories of the King my father are bounded on the west by those of Fez and Morocco.

I doubt not but you know that Hely who is King of those two Kingdoms hath two sonnes whereof the one is called Abdelmelec and the other Nephizus. But it may be you know not, that as the eldest is the most rash and proudest of men, so is the other the greatest traytour and the most abhominable Monster that hath ever dishonoured the quality of a Prince. At his returne from a voyage he made to Granada, he came to Tunis, and staying there for some designe he had upon Spayne (at least if we may be­leeve an Impostor that never speakes truth) was neere two yeeres in feeding Muley Ha [...]an with the hope of divers conquests. He was but seldome seen, he changed often his place of abiding; and when he was obliged to any Journy, he never went but under a strange Name and habit. During his long aboade the disloy all Man cast his eyes on me, and taking pleasure in the quicknesse of my wit and dexterity of my actions, became, ere he was aware, in love with an Infant. At first his affection [Page 149] was but a diversion and a sport; because not being able to wish for any thing but what he continually enjoyed, (I would say) to see me and make me talke; he lived without desire or disquiet during the first two yeares of this extravagant affection, there happened strange revolutions in the kingdome of Granada. The kings of Castile set on them farre more power'fully then they had ever don, and after many seiges and battells, not onely wonne the capitall Citty but compelled the poore Boabdilez to abandon his Crowne and to crosse the sea to finde a miserable retreate. The exe­crable Nephizus no sooner heard of this change, but he tooke leave of Muly and re­turned to Fez, under pretence of off [...]ing the Countrey of Hely to the unfortunate King of Granada. It was above eighteen monthes ere my father heard any thing from him, and I think he expected nought any longer when this miscreant returnd to Thunis, not as he came at other times, I meane in the quality of a Prince, but under the Name of a certaine Spanish Lord called Don Hernandez de Toledo. He discovered himselfe to Muly, and having invented to him a thousand dangers, which doubtles he never came neere, and as many designes yet more imaginary he intrea­ted that he might be publiquely entertayned as Embassador from the king of Spain, and permit him to have a galley in the port, that both by day and night he might put to sea and quickly get to such places where he should be called by the necessity of his affaires, and the advise of his associates. The good Muly consented to all that Ne­phizus desired of him; and the love he bore to his children being indeed a blinde love, he was overjoyed to be able to contribute any thing to the greatnesse of a Prince on whom he already looked as on the husband of one of his daughters: during Nephizus second aboade, his passion made a great progresse.

Hee had left mee a childe, and hee found mee so tall, so well made and so faire, as hee sayed that his love grew aswell as I; and gave over as I may say the be­ing a child when he saw that I was no more so. He began to speake another language then he had used to me before. He intymated to me that I was the object and the end of all his desires; and by a thousand execrable oathes, would perswade me that to have the honour to be my slave, he intended to renounce the conquest of all Spayne. I was yong, and had a good opinion of my selfe. Imagine with your selfe whe­ther it were hard to gaine me by flattery. I must needs confesse to you, I beleeved the traitor, and though I had no great minde to his person, I yet loved that grea­nesse of courage, and that extraordinary ambition that appeard in all his discour­ses. He was above six monthes in intertayning me with his affection; and did what he could to engage me farre in his extravagancies. But treating him oftentimes as he deserved, he became more discreet, and besought me to let him returne to Morocco, to get the King his fathers permission to ask me in marriage. I consen­ted without much intreaty to his departure, and indur'd the length of it without any greate disquiet. At Morocco he stayd well neere a yeare on[?] at Fez; and I have learnt from divers persons, how that Monster instead of serving the king his fa­ther, and defending him from his enemies, conspired against his life, and threw amongst his subjects the seeds of rebellion and parricide. These attempts not prospering, he was forc'd to absent himselfe from Morocco and to fly into Spayn; where questionlesse after he had contrived some newe treason, and made himselfe known what he was, he return'd to Fez, and obtaining his too milde fathers par­don was restord to his former authority. But some new plot begetting him a power­full enemie he ran the hazard of his life, by an adventure which I could never come to know, neither from him nor any of his followers. O! how many innocents had been aveng'd, and how happily had the world been purg'd of so fearefull a Monster, if the too generous Knight that fought with Nephizus had been lesse pitifull and not so generous as he was. Surely he should not have been content to have pierc'd him or have made him beg his life; since he was bound for the generall good of the world to have shed even the last drop of blood of that traitour. About three moneths after, as if he had forgotten his shame, or perswaded himselfe that the report of his Combat had not passed the borders of Fez, he shewed himselfe at Tunis; no more under a strange habit and Name, but as the true sonne of Hely. His traine [Page 150] was answerable to his condition, and his bravery made such a shew that the eyes of Muley and of Benetrida Ennoramita were equally dazeled. My sister was even ra­vished to see the splendor of that Prince, and judging that he came not with so much pompe but for the dressing he had on me; even enrag'd with it, looked on me with an envious eye, and told me often that I was borne the happiest of all our race. For mine owne particular, I had other thoughts. I looked on Nephizus as on a man without honour and courage, and could not even indure his conversation. The first time he could speake to me in private he renewed to me the assurances of his Service, and perceiving that I harkned to him with a great deale of coldnesse and negligence. Ennoramita (sayd he to me) can I be so unfortunate as to finde an alteration in your humour? I replyed that I found so much in him that twas no wonder if he saw some in me. The Barbarian not conceiving what I would say: Let that Justice (sayd he) which never pardons the violaters of oathes, punish me with an eternall chastisement if I be not the same that I ever was for the faire Enno­ramita, and if it be not with as much love and faith as ever, I beseech that Justice presently to avenge it on my life. 'Tis not now in your power (sayd I) to dispose of your life. 'Tis no more your owne. Tis that knights of whom you so poorely begd it. Polexander seeming desirous to speake, Perselida Amatonta was silent, and our Heroë began thus: I confesse Madam (sayde he) that I am very indiscreet to in­terrupt you but the cause of my incivility is so just, that I could refrain no longer, nor de­ny truth[?] that testimony she exacts from me. The first time that you sayd Nephizus de­manded his life from his enemy, I beleev'd you spoke of it with the same exaspera­tion that is usuall to injured persons, and that you tie not your selfe precisely to make a true narration. But seeing by the continuance of your discourse, that you are in an error too prejudicious to the honor of a Prince of Fez; I cannot but for his vo [...]ours sake, strive to put you out of it, and (setting apart that complaysancy which your[?] resentments requires from me) assure you very affirmatively that in the Combate (which you meane) Nephizus was never so poore spirited as to aske his life from his enemy. I know how all the matter passed and know it most particularly. In a word Madam twas a Lady that sav'd the life of the Prince of Fez, in spight of the obstination of another who would have had him lose it. But that history is long, and you must give me leave to deferre it to another time. I shalbe very glad to un­derstand a businesse I yet know, not replyed Perselida Amatonta, and to discover some new infidelity in my Affronter. But to continue those he did me, I say that my re­proches cast so much shame and confusion in his countenance, that though from that time he conceived the dressing to be avenged of me; and to make me feele the anger I had kindled in his soule; for all that he cast himselfe at my feete, and besought me with teares in his eyes to tell him the Author of that calumny. I will make him (sayd he) confesse his lye, nay dye in your presence; and if you have not quickly pitty of those ills that your rigour inflicts on me, I will soone let you see by the losse of my life, that I have never been so base as to beg it. You will have all Africa to fight withall, if you intend to purge your selfe of that Scandall. 'Twere better for to bury that unfortunate Combat in a voluntary forgetfullnesse, and that you did imploy your courage, to make those belye themselves that accuse you to have attempted against the life of your father. This Second Onset was no lesse piercing to Nephizus then the first. He was utterly ouerthrown and though he strove to make his offences passe as some extravagances and the anger of Hely for the do­ting of an old man; he could not for all that hide his disorder and perplexednesse from me, nor his anger for being so well knowen. He therefore lefte me assoone as he could, and without shew of choler or coldnesse continued to live with the King my father and me as if he had remembred nothing of what was pass'd. He would himselfe, the better to deceive those that had command to note his actions, make matches at Canes, and Just with the yong Knights of our Court. He intreated the leave of Muley Hassen, who much loving those kinde of youthfull sports, since from all times they have been used amongst the Moores, did not onely consent to it, but (being himselfe much delighted with them in his youth gave the Deseigne of [Page 151] many Entrances and lent Nephizus the best horse of his great stable. This dissem­bling Prince came to the Justs under a Name farre from his intentions and mine. He called himselfe the Knight of Perselida Amatonta and obtained from Muley, that I should bestow on the Knight that had done best, the Prize that I should thinke worthy his adresse. The sports of the Canes, and the fight with the Bulls lasted three dayes. The fourth the Justs began, and Nephizus after he had overthrowne eight or ten of the rea­diest Knights of Tunis, grew so proud of his good fortune that he came oftentimes be­fore my scaffold, to aske if I were not pleased with his dexterity.

Muly had sent me one of his gentlemen to know what hindred me from giving the Prize of the Justs to the Prince of Fez; when a Knight armed with an armour sowed with Crownes entred the Lists, and asked leave to tell me his thought before he put him­selfe in case to fight with those of Nephizus party. This favour was granted him by the King, on condition, that if his good fortune gave him the best of the Maintainer, he should not have the Prize appointed for the Vanquisher, till he had made himself known. The Knight yeelded to that condition, and comming out of the Lists to my scaffold, made his horse goe with so much artand evennesse, that wee both (my sister and my selfe) confessed together, that Africa had never seene any thing like it. As soone as he was neere enough to me to be understood, he lifted up his bever, and low inclining, Ma­dam said he to me, whoever is not of the Prince of Fez his opinion, shewes himselfe stupid, so far as to have no judgement, or so wicked as to dispute the most undoubtfull and best knowne of all truthes.

'Tis most certaine that the defeate of those Knights which have this day come into the field proceeded from nothing else but the power of your beauty, and I beleeve that 'tis only for the interest of your renowne, that fortune hath so constantly held on Nephizus party. But she will not give to your merit all that justice which it deserves, if (after she had condemned the blindenesse and pride of those Knights who have dared to compare to the wonders of your beauty the common one of their Mistresses) she had not destined some one to correct the rashnesse of the Prince of Fez.

'Tis she, Madam, that hath brought me hither to tell this audacious man, that 'tis not for him to ascribe to himselfe the title of your Knight, and that he became guilty of a crime not to be forgiven, when he tooke the boldnesse to hazard your renowne on the feeblenesse of his armes. Allowe then (if you please) of so just a resentment as is mine; and give way, that I shew this Assembly, that he only defends a just cause, who main­taines that the bravest man of the world is unworthy to serve you. Thus said the un­knowne Knight to me, and presently, either the power of flattery or mine inclination were so winning, that I felt my selfe in love without knowing who had kindled the flame.

I strove to suppresse this first and indiscreete motion; but in spight of all my indea­vours, and all my reasonings my passion grew the stronger, and suffered me not to quell those troubles, and inward disorders which perplexed me. I put them off yet a little to answere the unknowne Knight, and to grant him leave to combate with Nephizus. After he had given me many thankes, he left me, and went to the place where he was to make it appeare that he was a man of his word.

The Prince of Fez who was on horsebacke, no sooner saw him at one end of the field, but he went to the other. Presently the trumpets invited them both to shew their valour. They came on with such an extraordinary swiftnesse, and a force so equall, they broke each of them two lances without any advantage on one another. At the third, my Knight put Nephizus out of his saddle, and upon a dispute that the cunning Prince set on foote to save his honour, the King my Father, and the Judges of the field put off the decision of the difference to the next day. Nephizus who in his conscience well knew he had the worst, would not hazard his reputation at Justing. He therefore demanded that they might be permitted to regaine by the sword what either had lost by the lance. The unknowne Knight joyned with him in that request, and the Judges, to content both, granted them the combate. I instantly retired with the King and Enno­ramita, and as soone as possibly I could, I went and shut me into my closet. I was there about two houres musing on this strange adventure, and asking my selfe who this gene­rous [Page 152] Knight should be that had so sensibly obliged her. In this pleasing meditation was I when Nephizus came into my chamber; one of my slaves came and gave me notice of his comming, and I chid him for it so earnestly, that tooke from him for ever the de­sire of b [...]inging me the like newes. Nephizus without doubt heard me, for (said he) when he was come into my closet, I would have taken the boldnesse to disturbe you, if the King had not expresly commanded me. Impute then (if you please) my importunity to my obedience, and continue not to shew your neglect, if you have not an intention to deliver me over altogether vanquished to the mercy of mine enemy. I answered: He is too valiant to have need of a second, and if you would beleeve me, you should imploy a part of this night to finde some invention that might utterly break off the match that you have deferred. Those words made him almost desperate.

But the resolution he had taken to make me unfortunate, even to extremity, wrought him to dissemble is resentment. Our converse was not long, for the King sent for mee; I went to him with Nephizus, and all the supper time, I spoke almost of nothing but the civility and addresse of the unknowne Knight. I askt of every one his name, and find­ing none that could tell me any thing of him: I owe much (said I, aloud) to the Kings providence, for by the law which he hath imposed on the vanquisher, I shall have the content to know this stranger. Nephizus could have so much mastry o're himself to con­ceal his choler, nor to let go without an answer, a speech wherein he thought himself too much injured. He therefore spoke, and witnessed his anger by the tone of his voice. If the King (said he to me) had imposed on the vanquished the necessity which he hath on the va [...]quisher, I doubt not but your curiosity had been satisfied. But the Conquerour alone being bound to make himselfe knowne, I much deceive my selfe, if the successe of to-morrows combate doe not much increase your longing. You are mistaken (said I eagerly to Nephizus) yet would say my admiration and not my longing. The King that saw well I had a minde to anger Nephizus, did something to hinder the continuing of our discourse. And I that knew what the goodnesse and indulgence of so affectionate a father required from my respect, presently changed countenance and voice; and said smilingly to Nephizus, that I had not that opinion of his enemy as I would have him be­leeve; and that I had not undertaken him, but to humble him a little on a day wherein the publick voice had raised his valour even to the skies. As crafty as that Prince was, yet he was caught by this soothing; and according to the humour of those in love, was so much moved with that favour, though it was no otherwise then all apparent, that he forgot almost all his anger. The houre to retire being come, he led me to my chamber, and by the way made me so many protestations of service, that if I had not knowne him well, without doubt I had been so silly as to have beleeved him. As soone as he left me, I got to bed, and spent almost all the night in thinking on the good aspect, the active­nesse and valour of the unknowne Knight. Scarce was it day but that I awakened my women, and made such a coyle among my servants, that it witnessed well the disorder of my minde. I handled all my Jewells, and not knowing at last whereon to resolve, commanded a maid whom I very much trusted, to give me what would best beseem me. When I was about to coife me, not any one of my women was either handsome or quicke enough. All that they put on was naught. My dressing was sometime too great, sometimes too flat, and I made my selfe to be new dressed so often that I was not ready when one of the Kings Gentlemen came and told me that the Combatants humbly be­sought me to repaire to my Scaffold. I tooke not time to eat, but as one senselesse, ranne to the field, and was there exceedingly troubled till I saw the brave Knight. Nephizus inraged with anger, and may be with jealousie, came fiercely on his rivall, and was re­ceived by him with an incredible vigour. At every course the Prince of Fez had some advantage; but at the last, he flew over his horses crupper, and lay so long time stretched on the sand, that they beleeved he would not make use of the permission that he had re­quested. Yet he arose by the helpe of his overthrower, and being remounted on horse­backe, insolently called his generous enemy to the combat: long time they fought and very suriously; and Nephizus questionlesse resolved rather to dye then to yeeld ground; and the other desirous to preserve the honour he had gotten, behaved him so cou­ragiously, that at last the wilfulnesse of the Prince of F [...]z being alone and disarmed, was compelled to yeeld him selfe.

[Page 153] As soone as the Judges had declared the Stranger to be the Victor, they brought him before me to receive the Prize which he had gotten. He besought me to give it him, with such a grace and submission that they made an end of losing me. Before I gave sa­tisfaction to so just a request (said I) you ought (if you please) on your part to fullfill the Law imposed on you. 'Tis to favourable (said he) not to obey it. But Madam, it needed not that such an ordinance should impose a necessity of discovering my selfe. The honour you doe me to command it, is to me a Law so sweete and powerfull, that for what disadvantage soever it may be to me in making my selfe knowne; yet I shall not faile to give you that small proofe of the extraordinary zeale I have to your service. In ending these civilities he tooke off his helmet, and thinking truely that I knew him not: See heere (said he to me) Muley Hassen, who hath no other honour nor merrit, then to be sprung from the Royall House of Thunis.

I had heard my Father often speake of that yong Prince, and esteemed him as one of the most couragious and accomplished Knights of his time. But I being but an Infant when he left Africa to travell through Europe, I did not remember I had ever seene him. Though my love was gotten to such a height, beyonde which there are few others, yet I confesse to you, that it grew in such a manner in knowing whom I loved, that all the persecutions which I have suffered since, and all the time that hath passed since I saw my Lover have not beene able to lessen it.

As soone as I was out of that astonishment which the sight of Muley Hassen had been the cause of, I presented him a very great Diamond, with three Pearles in fashion of a peare which I had destined for him, and desirous to answere his faire speech by some o­ther that might leave in him an opinion he was not unpleasing to me: Cousen (said I) 'tis not only as your kinsman that I rejoyce at your victory, but as a good Patryot; since Strangers that shall know how you have dealt with one of our most remarkeable neigh­bours, will respect our Frontires, and have no will to invade a Countrey that may vaunt it selfe to have an invincible Defender.

Beleeve then that both in the one and the other title, I am extreamely glad of your honour, and keepe the Present I have made you, as an assurance, that hence forward I will interest my selfe in all things where you have any share. Muley out of his discre­tion durst not answere me, but went to waite on the King, who had sent for him by one of his Squires. You may imagine whether he were well received. Truely he was in such sort, that if my poore brother had been returned from that dismall enterprize which cost him his life, he could not have beene better welcommed. The King who had given him his owne name, held him a long time in his armes, called him his second Son, and the stay of his age; and causing him to mount on one of his horses, brought him to the Pallace attended as in triumphe. He forgot not Nephizus in his ill fortune, but shewed him by that little time he was with him, and by the little displeasure in his countenance, that his affection was an affection of state, and that which he shewed to the yong Muly, was of blood and nature, that is, how the first was feigned, and the other true. Nephi­zus had time to thinke on his revenge: For he kept his chamber neere a moneth. In this long solitude, having layd the plot of what he was to execute, he came after into the Court with so much jollity, as if he had borne away the Prize of the Justs, and came on to prattle with as much assiduity and passion, as if he had beene yet truely in love with me. But 'twas most vainely that he imployde all his craft, and forced countenan­ces, for I was not now to be taught. I lived now only in Muley Hassen, and had no eares nor eyes but for him. I saw him every houre of the day, sometimes with the King, other­whiles in my chamber, then in the gardens, afterwards in a hunting, and every where with so much satisfaction on one side and the other, as well of love as of respect, that I may say that five or six moneths that I passed thus, seemed to last nothing at all. But alas! Those things that please are not of longest continuance.

Nephizus that had an intent to revenge himselfe extraordinarily of me, thought he could not doe it but in getting the yong Muley from Court, and becomming the abso­lute Master of my life. See how he went on: He dispatched to Morocco to oblige the King his Father to send his Embassadors to mine to treate of his marriage with me. In the meane while he negotiated so dextrously or rather so detestably with those that go­verned [Page 154] the will and estate of good Muley, that they made him jealous of my Lover, and made them resolve to ruine him. The weakenesse of my poore Father exceedingly ad­vanced the plots of that traitour: For scarce had his Ministers represented to him that for the safety of his estate, and the conservation of his Authority, 'twas fit that the yong Prince were dismissed the Court, but that he consented to it as easily as if he had never knowne nor loved him. For my selfe that had far lesse passion for the State then for my Lover, no sooner heard the newes, but I tore my haire, scratched my face, blasphemed against heaven, and violating all that I owed to the best Father in the world, accused his Councell and himselfe of treason and tyranny. But understanding from whence my affliction had his beginning, I turned all my rage on the perfidious Nephizus, I told him such things, and spoake to him in such a manner as might well have put him from the desire of possessing me, if he had not had that desire of obtaining me for no other cause but to make me prodigiously miserable. Muley Hassen had received commandment to retire himselfe to the Towne of Mezila which confines with the deserts of Numidia, and to depart without seeing the King nor my sister nor my selfe. Yet he obeyed not the last of these commands. For the same night that he was to be gone, deceiving his spies and guarde, he came into my closet, where I staied for him with my deare Atalida. As soone as he came in he cast himselfe rather as dead then alive at my feete, and when I went to raise him I fell a side, and so on my bed in a swound. Atalida had much ádoe to make us come to our selves: At last by vertue of some Essences I came from my fainting, and seeing Muley stretched as dead, I lay downe by him, and did whatsoever my griefe and love advised me.

But what said I? No, no, I did nothing of what they ordained me to doe, since I dyed not with griefe for such a separation. When he had recoliected his spirits, he was ashamed to see himselfe as he was. He presently arose, and setling him on his knees, Madam said he, if those that banish me from the Court, had considered how far unwor­thy I am of the honour I receive from your goodnesse, I should be the first that would approove their sentence, and receive with a benediction a thing which they had done with so much justice. But since neither the greatnesse of your merit, nor the defects in me, have not beene the motives of their condemnation, be pleased that I complaine of their vi [...]lence, and that seperating the interest of my Lord the King from those of his e­nemies, I say aloud, that to deale with me as I am dealt withall, is to abuse the regall power. O how those jealous and ambitious Officers had obliged me, if in putting me from the troubles of the State they had not banished me from you. Tis the losse of the sight of yourfaire eyes, and not my credit that I lament. I shall see you no more Enno­ramita, and in the dreadfull Deserts whereto I am exiled, the feare to be blotted out of your memory, as a fearefull Monster will continually war with me. Let that feare cease with your teares I replyde weeping, what ever becomes of Ennoramita she will be al­waies yours. O how advantagious are my disgraces (said he presently) and how happy doe my misfortunes make me, since by their meanes I have obtained that which I hoped not to have gotten by the services of all my life. Yes Muley (said I) in interrupting him, Ennoramita is thine, and beleeve for certaine that she will never be any others. Wee parted, after reciprocall protestations of constancy and fidelity; and whilst my deare Muley got to the Deserts of Numidia, the Embassadours of Morocco hastened their Journey and arrived at Thunis. They had divers Audiences of the King and his Mini­sters & after the Declaratiō that Heley & Abdelmelec had sent by which Nephizus was put in possession of the Kingdome of Fez: I was sacrificed to the rage of that Monster, and to the establishment of the greatnesse of the elder Sister. I neglected nothing to de­liver me from the miseries prepared for me. I would have killed my self, but 'twas not ni my power. I tryed to have fled away, but I was hindred; I fell sick, even to the losse of my sences, but time tooke me from the one and the other malady.

At last my Sister, that never forsooke me, representing me, that which duty, birth, virtu [...], and fitnesse required from me, I indured to be drawne to Fez. Muley truely pos­test my minde and heart. Yet I assure you I lived with my husband as an honest woman should, and unwilling to doe any thing unworthy my spirit, I gave to Nephizus the en­ci [...]e disposition of my body. I looked on him as a Tyrant, but as a Tyrant who by a just ti­tle [Page 155] had gotten to be the absolute Master both of my life & death. I obeyed him therefore punctually, and did that out of duty which I could not out of love. After I was at home with him he askd me most unworthily & every day gave me so unreasonable commands that I beleeve he did it not but of purpose to make me disobey him & so by consequence to have cause to abuse me. But I was so ready and obedient, that he was put to his wits to finde a pretext to make me feele his fury. I spoke not to any one of the Knights of his Court. I was invironed with a circle of black slaves that watched after my shortest treadings. I went not out of my chamber, and had no diversion but the remembrance of my deare Muley.

Sometimes my hangman would come where I was with a sole designe to afflict me, and then he entertained with slave, infamous, prostitute, and seeing me melt into teares, I knew (would he say) that one day I should bring downe that pride which hath so of­ten abused me, and avenge my selfe at pleasure of thy impudence and scorne. Weepe wretch, weepe, not out of anger to see thy selfe subjected to my command, but rather out of griefe for rendring thy selfe unworthy of my love. One day when he had extra­ordinarily abused me, what then (said I, enough resolutely) obliged thee to charge thy selfe with me? The longing I had to be avenged on thine insolence, replide he, I desi­red to raigne absolutely over thee, that so by a long punishment I might chastice thy disdaines and scoffs. Never hope to regaine that which thou hast so brutishly disdained. The time is past wherein I was so weake as to suffer my self to be caught by thy so little beauty. I am thy deadly enemy; expect no other usage from me, but that which ha­tred and vengeance shall advise me to. Kill me then (said I) and to glut thy fury fully, exercise thy fire and sword, doe thy worst of cruelty on this miserable body. No, answe­red the hangman, I will have thee live that thou maiest dye often, and that thou maiest doe a long pennance for thine offences. An excesse of choler transporting me at these last threatnings: O Muley Hassen where art thou now? Cride I. Why seest thou not that which she endures whom thou lovest so much? You must thinke, that on the sud­daine the cruell Nephizus conceived not that I spoake of my Lover; for he answered me coldly, that Muley Hassen was too farre off to heare me, and that if I hoped for none other helpe but from him, I might well prepare my selfe for a long time of patience. This horrible converse being thus ended he left me, and was three dayes before I saw him againe.

But he returned on the fourth, after infallibly he had mused on the name of Muley Hasten, and entring my chamber with his wonted brutality: Well, tost one, (said he) you cannot suppresse your ancient laciviousnesse. 'Twas your Gallant you called on the other day, and not thy Father, I know it, and know more (he lied falsly in saying so) that thou subornest my slaves to carry newes of thee to that infamous Exile, and that thy servants secretly intertaine the intelligences which thou had'st in thy Fathers Court. I will quickly breake this execrable commerce, and make an exemplary punishment on thy impudent Confidents. As soone as he had ended these reproaches he left me, and five or six dayes after sent me word by an old blackmoore woman which he had ap­pointed for my Governesse, that I should prepare me to leave the City of Fez. I doubt not but you (as I heare) have travelled through Africa, know very well how pleasant the Territory of Fez is, as well for the Rivers of Buragrag, Juraven, and of Suba, which water it on three sides, as for a great number of Cities, Burgs, and Villages. Towards the South the Champiō stretcheth even to the foot of Mount Atlas & the ancient Kigns of Fez have built for the pleasure of solitude and hunting many Pallaces at the entry of those high mountaines. 'Twas in one of those prisons that my Tyrant resolved to make me end my dayes. He brought me thither himselfe, and colouring this dismall Journey with a very serious pretext, that he went to drive back some Ara [...]ians that were descen­ded from the Mountaines, and forraged the plaine countrey, he departed with two thousand horse. I lived in that house as I did at F [...]z; that is, reduced to see none but my slaves, and to be often persecuted by mine enemy. He made me encure so much that he himselfe grew weary of my suffrings, and I know no [...] upon what consideration staying his usuall cruelties, [...]e asked me one day, if I were not weary of torturing him? You would say, my Lord (I answered) to see my selfe tormented. No (said he) I doe [Page 156] not [...]. I aske thee, if thou canst at last resolve to live as thou oughtest. I re­plyde, that I would never be guilty of any thing that should cast a blemish or shame on so m [...]ny gr [...]at Princes as those from whom I was descended. I will live as a vertuous wi [...] should [...], and though I am unwo [...]ly used by him that should protect me, I will no [...] [...] violat [...] that faith whi [...] [...] Hassen by fo [...]ce made me give you. By force (cryde Nephizus) A [...] proud one I see well thou will never alter, [...] whether by force or voluntarily tis no matter: Thou art yet myne, and being so, canst not without a crime give thy [...]lfe to another.

I had not [...]een long in my new Prison, when Abdelmelec sent his brother word tha [...] h [...] wa [...] a [...] [...]ez. Without doubt Hely had heard somewhat of the disorders of our marri­a [...]e, and to apply some remedy had commanded his eldest Son to make that Journey. Nephizus leaving me under safe custody went to meete Abdelmelec, and would never [...] to see me. That Prince h [...]ving no inte [...] to anger Nephizus, because he fea­red him, and knowing by experience, that [...]ealousie hath no respect of persons, made shew to approove of the manner of his brothers liuing. But getting by little and little in­to him, he did so well represent to him the wrong he did himselfe in treating me so ill, that I was left at liberty on my faith, and delivered from a troope of villaines who in­steede of giving testimony of my life, increased by their r [...]ports the hatred and jealousie of Nephizus. [...] would not make use of all the priviledges I had. I first began to walke th [...]gh our [...] retreates, and sometimes visited the Dervises and Marabous which had retired [...] into the Cavernes of the Mountaine A [...]as; bu [...] it was never b [...] [...] company of my women, and of seaven or eight Eunuques which Nephizus had [...]. Some dayes after tha [...] Abdelmelec had left his [...], I went to visit the [...] of [...] Des [...]t, and being perswaded by my deare A [...]lida, I went farre into the [...] with a Dervis which had the reputation of a great Prophet. His [...] was digged in and hollowed in a great R [...]ck, that looked downe a fearefull [...], and to come to it you must passe by an ascending way so straite that a man could not goe up [...] [...]ideling. In spight of this incomm [...]. I came to the Caverne, and [...]nding the Entry very darke, I thought on Nephizus phrensies; and for feare of wake­ [...]ing them againe, bid my women call ou [...] the Dervis, for I would not enter into a place w [...]ere I could not see a jot. The boldest of my Eunuq [...] went in, and brought [...] the holy man was taken with an exceeding griefe that he had in one of his [...] a [...]d that h [...] humbly [...] m [...] to pardon him, [...] he could not come forth to [...] [...]me.

[...] Madam (said he) [...]is not so darke wit [...]in th [...] Cave as your Majesty imagines▪ It [...] t [...] severall places, and in the little Cave where the [...] [...]es, there is a [...] [...]ich gives light enough to see one another. Lets go in th [...] [...] [...]o my wo­men: [...] do [...] not any o [...] you goe f [...]m me. I went therefore so far as into a second chamber [...] the Dervis lay on Ma [...] o [...] Date­tree, and by the [...]ullen light of his lampe I perceived him▪ but in such a manner that I could not possi [...] [...] marke the [...] nor colour of his face. When I was neere his bed, he told me I was welcome, and I shewing the esteeme I had of his vertue and my sorrow for his ill: I should f [...]are (said I) [...] [...]e troublesome to you, if I kn [...]w not by a thousand experiences that such as you, are declared enemies to the world, and all pleasure, to give your selves solely to the con­templation of things celestiall, and the practise of vertues, and never m [...]re contented then when you are [...] some occasions to [...]xercise either your pa [...]ience, learning, or cha [...]ity. Y [...]u may finde in me cause sufficient to put all those per [...]ctions in practise. I am very ignorant in our mysteries, and [...] yet more unfortunate. The Dervis begin­ning to speake with the tone of a voice so weake and trembling, that I thoug [...]t him to [...] [...]ick: The esteeme (said he) which you deigne to make of me, is a proofe of your goodnesse; a [...]d though [...] ingenuously that I dese [...]ve it not [...] ye [...] I [...] that it is an [...] be well in the opinion o [...] so wi [...]e an [...] so generous a Princesse. But that which [...] this good fortune the mo [...]e deare to me▪ is that by a happy contin [...] [...] oblige [...] you to shew some compassion on my griefe▪ [...] (said [...]) [...] so great [...] heaven i [...] self put a hand to the recove [...] [...] w [...]l quickly [...] incurable. [...] (if you [...]) Madam, that being [...] [Page 157] and day to con [...]est with such sensible griefes, I can neither dispose of mine owne spirits, [...] yet be in case to instruct and comfort. I have neede my selfe that some charitable friend, should not only free me from many doubts, and withdraw me from many errors, which my malady begets in my minde, but that he should likewise raise my courage by his consolations, and give me the strength to resist the violence of my afflictions. It I carry away nothing else (I replyde) by your communication; yet at least I shall take with me this satisfaction; that it is not my sexe alone that shewes so much weakenesse; since that a man who by the greatnesse of his soule could dispose himselfe of all his af­fections, and of himselfe; could not yet uncloathe him wholy of all humanity, no [...] lose the sense of paine in losing that of pleasure. It seemes well Madam (answered he) that I have not the honour to be well knowne to you. I am quite otherwise then your cha­rity imagineth. I am a feeble weake man, a man so tide to himselfe and to his affections, that to preserve them more pretiously, and to imploy his dayes and nights in so faire and delightfull an occupation, hath banished him from the world, and chasen a retreate, in the horrour of these Mountaines. But Madam I should never have done, if I tooke the boldnesse to tell you the story of my infirmities. I have intimated but too much already; and you shall be exceedingly good, if after the confession that I have made, you will deigne to take the paines one day to revisit so deplorable a creature. That which you have now told me, (I answered) makes me desire to know more; but it shall be for a­nother day. In the meane time get your health, if you can, or at least have the courage to suffer constantly, and if you neede a very rare example to make you to make you re­solve it: study the life of Ennoramita, and you shall finde that though she be a woman, she is able couragiously to support fa [...] greater afflictions then yours, and to expect with­out despaire, those remedies that time will afford her. I will strive to follow so generous councell, (replyde the Dervis) but time must quickly bring me that succour it intends me, if it prepare for me any other then death. My heart begins to faile me with my hope: and if the eternall wisdome which watcheth eternally for the good of his creatu [...]es, had not by a miracle vouchsafed to signifie to me this day that my life is yet deare to him: I protest to you Madam, that I would not have preserved it any longer.

The more I heard this Hermet talke, the more my curiosity increased: I thought that all his words were so many mysteries, and that he concealed from me the knowledge of something that might be very availeable and pleasing to me. Yet I tooke my leave o [...] him, and promised in going away, that he should quickly here from me, or I would come to see him my selfe. Let it be as soone as may be Madam▪ (said he sighing) [...]or if your presence renew not againe within few dayes, the miracle that hath beene done since you entred into this Caverne, assuredly you shall not finde me living. I returned th [...] [...] the Pallace of the Desert (for so they called my Prison) and meeting there with Nep [...] ­zus, (in a humour, as I may say good; If I compare it with that which was ordi [...]y with him) related to him the adventure of my walke. He had presently a desire to v [...] ­sit the desolate Hermit, and appointing it for next day; intimated, that he desired to goe thither with me. The time being come, wee got to horsbacke, and in lesse [...] houres came to the narrow passage by which only you could clime to the Dervis his Caverne. He was in the same ca [...]e that I left him and though Nephizus had given him notice of his comming, yet was he constrained (if he would see him) to goe to his bed­side. He spoake to him with words obliging enough for a Soveraigne▪ and repr [...]nting the extreame desire some had given, to g [...]t to the knowledge of him; asked [...], what had forced him to make so rigourous a retirement. The anger of heaven ( [...] the Dervis) and my despaire, and the Authors of it. But are you no [...] ( [...] Nephi­zus) the same in these Mountaines, that you were in the world? Fee [...] [...] your afflictions as you have felt them heeretofore? A [...]e you more absolutely Master of yo [...] passions? Or doe you beleeve that since you have turned your back to for [...] ▪ gives over to pursue you? My Lord (answered the Dervis) I con [...]e I am in this De [...]rt [...] same I was in the City. My griefes are as sha [...]pe as ever. My passions [...] me as they were wont. But I must confesse to you, that since I [...]gan to leave [...] [...]ing of [...]une, she hath given over to be so averse [...]. In the wo [...]ld [...] pleasure to aff [...]ct me, but since I inha [...] among [...] Ro [...] ▪ she seemes to have an in­tent [Page 158] to favour me. I understand what you would say replyde Nephizus: That fortune since she can take nothing from you, leaves you somewhat at quiet, and gives over wor­king, since she findes no more subject whereon to exercise her action. There is some­thing true (answered the Dervis) in your interpretation, but the favours I receive from fortune (if to accord with the ordinary manner of speech wee must call that fortune which is a pure effect[?] of the providence which governes in heaven) are more sensible then you can imagine them. She doth only oblige me in ceasing to afflict me; but she obligeth me effectively[?], and gives me at least the sight of those felicities which I have heeretofore[?] enjoyed. That is (said Nephizus) because you now not being distracted a­mong these obscure and solitary places, your imagination so strongly represents you the happinesse which you enjoy no more, that it seemes you enjoy them yet. I have farre more then that (said the Dervis) for I recover in this Cave, and really enjoy the good which I lost in the world. Heereupon I began to speake, and desiring to engage the Hermit to relate his Story: You must (Father said I) if you please, take the paines to expresse your self more plainly, if you desire to give me the satisfaction of understanding you. I would say, that passing from these generall propositions to circumstances more particular; you would let me know, of what nature was the happinesse you have lost, and of what kinde that is which you have recovered in your solitude. I will obey you (Madam) said the Dervis, though by an expresse commandment from the spirit who conducted me into this Desart, if it be forbidden me to publish the secrets of my solitary retreat. Know then that I am the Son of a Shepheard, who in times past had great and numerous flocks, and many strong inclosed pastures in the large Plaines of Numidia. The care he had of his beloved sheepe was the cause of his death, for being too wilfull in the pursuite of some wilde beastes that would devoure them, he himselfe became a prey to those savage Monsters. I was left an Orphant by that dismall accident, and my tender yeares being not proportionable to the paines that it behooved me to take for the preservation of my flock; I left them to the mercy of their enemies, and went wan­dring and desolate through places and Countryes to me altogether unknowne. This mi­serable and wandring life having brought me to such an extremity, that I wished for death a hundred times in a day. Our great Prophet all shining with as many rayes as he had when he was carried up into heaven, appeared to me on the sea strand, and ta­king me up from where I was fallen, take heart (said he) and be not weary of living▪ The superiour power is mooved with thy disfavours, and see, his comforts come show­ring downe to sweeten the bitternesse of thy life. When he had said thus, he vanished, and presently I saw glistring through a thicke cloud, an Angell more bright then the light it selfe.

He deigned to be the companion and guide of my Journeys, and within a few dayes bounding them, by a gift he gave me of an infinite more value then all the goods I had lost, promised me too that I should enjoy it till my death.

Alas! I dare say, and yet hope I blaspheme not, that truth, is no where but in Hea­ven; and that even an Angell is not alwaies to be beleeved, if he be not in that un­changeable abode. I held me most certainely assured of the eternity of my happinesse, when my Angell sad and heavy, came and pitifully told me, that a spirit sent from above, for the chasticement of my offences, was to constraine him to forsake me. Ah! My An­gell cryde I, doe not leave me! And if I have deserved to be punished, let me yet in my torments have the consolation to behold thee! I have long resisted this black Angell (replyde mine Angell of light) but there is power given him to overcome me, and to torment thee.

With this my Angell gave a great shrieke, and by force was compelled to leave me to the mercy of the most, to be feared by Demons, that the eternall justice makes use of, for the punishing of mankinde. I lost (with my good Angell) all the happinesse and delight that his company gave me, and have lived ever since so miserable and tor­mented, that to free me from my persecutor I intended to have killed my selfe. A stron­ger arme then mine staied that blow, and the voice of my absent Angell, whispring me sometimes in my eare, said, come into the Desart, com into the Desart; 'tis there where thou shalt recover what thou hast lost. I beleeved his promises, and streight forsaking [Page 159] the world, retyrde me into these Mountaines. The Dervis here stopping, and I know not what new curiosity obliging me to speake: But (said I) since you have been in these Desarts, hath not your Angell performed that which he promised you? He hath not only (replied the Hermit) rendred me the greatest part of the goods I lost; but in an apparition, said thus himselfe: Hope, and live. The expiation of thy offences is al­most accomplished. I shall shortly have the freedome to be with thee. I am now here but in feare, since for my too much loving thee, I have gone beyond that which is com­manded me from above. That faire Angell flew away as soone as he had in this manner comforted me.

But in that little time he was with me, he gave me that contentment, that to finish where I begun, I can assure you, that at this instant, I am reestablished in the true pos­session of that good which I lost in the world. Nephizus taking this Dervis for a foole, and that his melancholy and austerity made him take these visions for realities, would needes see how farre his extravagancies would extend; and therefore (said he) but if it be so, as you assure us, how is it possible that in one same time when you suffered so ma­ny afflictions, that at every moment they brought you to the graves brincke, and yet in the meane while (as you say) you enjoyed such happinesse, that you even dare to com­pare them with those which our great Prophet prepares for us in Paradise? You might well have resolved the question your selfe, (said the Dervis) if you had looked on me, not by what I seeme, but by that which I am.

You beleeve I differ not from other men, and 'tis that deceives you. But I am com­posed of two different Personages. I have one Nature which is proper to me, and ano­ther which is accidentall. Ther's a strange substance inseperably knit to mine. In a word, another my selfe lives in me, in the same manner as I live in my selfe, and as it happens sometimes, that nature thrusts into the world, bodies, which are so lincked the one to the other, that they cannot be seperated but by their common dissolution, and yet are agitated in one and the same time with divers passions: So you see in me a strange concourse, or to speake as I ought, a miraculous medley of a man, and an Angell; of a man extreamely afflicted, and of another happy. When I speake to you of the infinite pleasures that I enjoy in this solitary life, I talke to you in the person of that most happy [...]rt of my selfe; and when I complaine of my suffrings, I speake to you in the name of [...]e person afflicted. In full, and not to hold you longer in this unpleasing discourse; I r [...]joyce that I am perfectly happy in my selfe, and I am afflicted for being extreamely unfortunate in another.

Nephizus, gathering nothing from this intricate discourse, but a confirmation of the Dervis his folly, left him, and told me that if I tooke pleasure in the extravagancyes of a mad man, I had found a meanes for my often diversion. Though I was not of the same opinion with the Dervis; yet in shew I forgot not to approve of Nephizus opinion, and to laugh (with him) at the brutishnesse of the Mahometans, that hold those for the beloved of God, from whom the ill disposition of their Organs, or the vapours arising from their spleene have taken away the use of reason. Wee came thence late home to the Pallace, and because I found my selfe much disquieted, I presently retyred into my chamber. There began I deepely to muse on the Dervis his discourse, and finding no­thing in it extravagant, nor ought that seemed to me very mysterious, I resolved to see him often, and to goe thither so fewly accompanied, that he might have the freedome to discover to me those mysteries which he had yet concealed. Nephizus gave me the oc­casion two dayes after; for he receiving letters from Abdelmelec, by a Mute who served him in those great imployments, he was (of necessity) to goe to Fez, and from Fez to Morocco.

He left me in the custody of an old Ethiopian Eunuque, who was the most favoured of all his Confidents, and the depositary of all his secrets, commanding him at parting not to let me be out of his sight, nor to suffer me to go abroade, but very seldome. Nar­cissus (so was the name of the Ethiopian) witnessed a great faithfulnesse to his Master; but he did it with so much judgement and respect, that he never gave me cause to com­plaine of him, and still concealed all newes that might increase my afflictions. Now, one day thinking on my Hermit and presently urged with a desire to see him, and to under­stand [Page 160] the secret of his adventures: I intreated Narcissus to bring me to his Grot. He was so confident that I would never undertake any thing, against that which I ought to Nephizus, that he would not deny me a thing which was not precisely forbidden him. I went therefore to the Hermit with five or six of my women, and the Eunuques which garded me.

As soone as the poore solitary man could speake to me a part: I expected (said he to me) nothing but death; and seeing my selfe deprived of that light which should dissi­pate the obscurity of this place, I wished even with passion to see my selfe inveloped with that darkenesse which shall never have end. But I know now that the visible An­gell, that hath so often given me his assistance is resolved to continue it to me. Surely (Madam) I promise my selfe new favours of his goodnesse, and confesse I have offen­ded in suspecting that divine Essence to be as mortall creatures, subject to change and forgetfulnesse. With this the Hermit held his peace, and I that had an extreame desire to know what was hidden under his mysterious speech, told him, that if I understood well the meaning of his discourse, that his fortune was not altered, since he complained then as he had done other times before. How (replied he) should the effects of my mis­fortune cease, since the cause of it still endures. I complaine, and lament far lesse then I suffer. But since that beyond all hope, my tutelar Angell, restores to me that light that he hath so long hid from me, I make a vow never to be weary of expecting it, and how long soever his absence be, to hope still for the end. If my curiosity (said I) may be satisfied, without your discontent, I intreat you by that which is most deare to us, to let me know what Angell that is which you mention so often, and what that passion is which obligeth you to draw out so misera­bly your life among these Rocks, and places of fearefull solitude. At this intreaty the Hermit sighed oftentimes, and being a while silent; whereto am I brought (said he in Spanish) if my Angell knowes not what I suffer, and doth not know it selfe? He had scarce ended these words, when I gave so fearefull a shreeke, that all my servants came running to me, and asked what I ailed.

O heaven (said I) how have I beene affrighted! Me thought I saw at the foote of the Hermit, a Lyon, who awaking at our discourse, was ready to leape at me. The old Narcissus began to laugh at my vision, and advised me to take the aire to divert me. I presently arose to put in action that which he proposed; but the Hermit holding me b [...] the skirt of my gowne, what (said he in Spanish) faire Princesse, doe you beleeve that by inhabiting these solitary Cavernes I am become one of the furious beasts of the Wil­dernesse? Those words were so powerfull a charme to stay me, that I stood as unmoo­veable.

But the Hermit not perceiving it, can it be (said he in the same language) that you who have been moved with my afflictions when you knew me not, should leave to be piti [...]ull in the same instant when you knew me. Consider Ennoramita, ô be pleased to take notice that I am not permitted before so many suspected persons to beseech and solicit you further to have commiseration on my miseries. Our common enemies have their eyes over us, and I lose you if I continue to petition you. Stay yet but a moment, and say what shall become of me. I can but answere thee to be lamented Muley (said I in Spanish, for indeed 'twas he) I am too much interdicted to take or to give thee any good councell; yet expect in this place to heare from me. Farewell. With that word, the teares came into mine eyes, and I came out of the Caverne with so extraordinary a sadnesse, that Narcissus besought me to seeke no more so unpleasing a diversion. I con­fesse said I to him, there is nothing but discontent in so sad a conversation. I have my minde filled with horrour, and find that my communication with the afflicted increaseth my afflictions in lieu of lest'ning them.

This said, I returned thence speedily to my Prison, and being shut into my chamber with my faithfull Atalida: Ah my friend (said I) what have I heard! What have I seen this day? Why Madam (she replyde) are you yet in feare of your imaginary Lyon? Why do'st not thou know (said I) what I doe? My astonishment proceeds from a more just cause. If you should have found (said she) the unfortunate Muley under the habit of the Hermit, you had not beene more desolate then you are. Thou hast divined (cryde I) 'tis [Page 161] he Atalida, tis Muley himselfe. I knew him when hee spake Spanish to me. But who hath brought him into these Deserts? What will he doe here? What will become of him? If you would calme your perturbation (answered Atalida) I will reply to your questions, and without the preventing your wit with any passionate counsell, will leave you the li­berty to deliberate, your selfe, in a businesse so important. For al that Atalida could say to me, yet my transporting must have its course. Above an houre was I in admirations; and turning in my disordered minde a thousand thoughts farre more confused: At last I setled my selfe; and then, said Atalida, speaking very low for feare of being heard: Tis fit that I discover that which great considerations have forc'd me to conceale from you. I confesse, I knew Muley was in the Grott where you met him. For some six moneths since, desperate of ever hearing, any more, ought concerning you, he resolv'd to take on him the habite of a Dervis, and under that vaile to come himselfe and know whither you had need of his service, or had absolutely forgotten him. Presently he understood the inhumane usage you had from Nephizus, and instantly resolv'd to revenge you. But letting me know his generous design by his faith full Acmett (who every day is here, for wearing the same ha­bit of an Hermit as his Master, and comming to aske almes, he hath the liberty to come in when he list) I forced him to undertake any thing without your permission, and assur'd him that I would worke things soe, that he should have the happinesse to see you. I durst not tell you of this, because [knowing your severity] I imagined that rather then to suffer Muley so neare to you, you would have consented to his death, nay even to your owne. All that I could doe, for the consolation of that miserable man, was to winne you insensi­bly to visit the Hermits of you [...] mountaines, and by that cunning to bring you to the Ca­verne of Muley Hassen. My plot, as I understand, hath taken very good effect, and I finde that I have well acquitted my selfe of that which I ought, for you, to the constancy of that Prince: Tis now your part to perfect the rest. After Atalida had thus spoken, I began to be very angry with her, and threatned to write to Nephizus what dis-service she had done him. The generous Mayde, without leaving her former coolenesse, answered, and that very sharply, I should be angry for being angry; and that I was to remember, how in parting from Morocco, I had absolutely commanded her, not to abandon Muleys interest; but to serve him, notwithstanding all or any of my commands to the contrary. But tis not e­nough▪ (said shee yet) that you know he is here; advise and bethinke you what you will have him doe. If you will command him, he will breake open your prison, free you from your Tyrant, and bring you back to Tunis. In a word, he will kill the Tyrant in the midst of your guards▪ and in the very armes of his Father. Hold thee (cried I) execrable Atalida: Hast thou no otherwise profited by my precepts and Example? Dost thou not know that the only thought of those crimes thou proposest, is an offence that cannot be expiated but by death. I am ill used I confesse, but he that treats me so, hath right to doe it. My prison and fetters are sacred; If I doe but consent to have them broken, I am a miscreant and jmpi­ous. Tis true Nephizus is a Tyrant, but tis a Tyrant which the Lawes Authorize, and which the Heavens and my honour command me to respect. What would you have Muley doe, then replyed (rudely enough) Atalida! Let him returne to Mezila said I, and suffer forme, as I doe for him. You may well take the paynes [if you please) answered my deare Atalida-to give him that command your selfe, and you were best to resolve on't, for he will never obey it, if he receive it not from your owne mout [...]. I shall have power enough for that, (said I) and though I shall seem to wrong Nephizus, in seeing him, yet having never given him ought but my body, I doe not think that in speaking with Muley, I take from him any thing that is his. But this interview must be quickly, that I may be freed of this mi­serable man before the returne of Nephizus,

This resolution was executed the fifth day after it was taken. I made a match of hunting with Narcissus, and fortune was so favourable, that the Lion we had in chase, took the way to Muleys Cavern, and was long fought withall in the straight way that lead to the Cavern. I found my selfe almost alone at his death, and comming then from horsback with Atalida and two of my guard, I told them that I would goe see the Hermit til Narcissus came to us. I found him indeed rather dead then alive; The manner of my last parting from him, had been so sensible to him, that he avowed, but for the designe he had to free me from my bondage, he had freed himselfe of his life. Tis true said he [Page 162] in spanish, that I have none other will then yours; and that I receive with far more resolution those afflictions that come from your hand, then those that are sent me from heaven. But even that which makes you imagin I should suffer all, is it that obligeth Avec bea [...] ­coup plus de re [...]gnation and commands me more imperiously not to endure those injuryes you receive from a Tyrant. However banished, persecuted, or miserable I am, yet I have too much happynesse, since I enjoy the felicity of being alwaies in your remem­brance. When I looke on my selfe, on that side, I doe not murmure. But when I goe out of the least part of my selfe to fix my selfe on the fairest, which is you, [be plea­sed faire Ennoramita, that I say so] I presently feele al the displeasures, and suffer all those torments I told you of, somewhat obscurely, in our pass'd conversations.

And to weigh things well, can there be a condition more to be lamented then that of a Lover, who knowes that (for being too much affected) the person that does him that favour, is exposed to all the outrages of fortune, to the persecutions of a husband, and the contempt of a father? Surely (Madam) he which sees so great miseryes, and certaine­ly knowes who is the Author of them, deserves to be the hatred and horror of his age, if he be so cowardly as to live. Suffer me then to die, and revoke the command you made me to indure, my shame and your captivity: or at least, give way that I attempt the meanes that are left me to witnes to you my fidelity. No [Muley said I,] I never re­voke what I have once resolv'd: and give you no other freedome then that you sigh for my sufferings, to complaine on your fortune, and attend patiently when she wil change either one way or other. O rigorous commands! [said the Prince] to how many new tortures are you about to expose the unfortunate Muley? Since you have resolution e­nough Puis qu. aver asez de resigna­tion. [said I] not to reject those lawes which I my selfe finde to be extreamely cruel; I will give you those which are more mild. Love me ever; despaire not to obtaine the re­compence your faithfulnes deserves; and remember that Ennoramita is so just, and so ac­knowledging, that rather then she will fayle Muley, she will be false to her selfe. Doe not promise me an thing [Madam] said he, if you please tis to through me back into my for­mer afflictions, to signify to me [...]his excesse of goodnes. The more generous you are, the more weake I acknowledg my selfe, and the more obligeing you are, I am the more In­gratefull. O Heaven and earth! Ennoramita, you heape on mee all good, and I am the cause of all your ill: nay you should be happy, if you could suffer me to be unhappy! Alas! doe not impose on me that cruel necessity of obeying you. What Muley [said I] with a note of anger] doe you thinke to make your selfe to be thought on by your dis­obedience? I have err'd [replyed the Prince, presently faling at my feet) I disavow all that I have said: I obey with a blind obedience; and put off so absolutely all that is proper to me, that [already] I feele no more in me any rebellious motion, nor will, which is not absolutely conformable to yours. Command then Madam, and prescribe, what you please is fit, I should doe. I would have thee live (said I) but I would not have thee live altogether [...]nted, since I am most unfortunate. Leave then this manner of life, so sad and obscure, and get you farre hence to doe such acts, that the report of them may come even in­to these Deserts. My honour and faith forbid me to have more private and particular communications with thee, but they cannot countermand my rejoyci [...]g at thy glorious actions. O Virtue without example! (cryed the poore Muley in Spanish) by what prodigie hath the miserable Nephizus been able to resist thy charmes? But Ma­dam [said he] coming nearer to me] I make you too long expect the consent I owe to all that you please. From this day I will quit this Cave; and if Fortune deigne to second my obedience and courage, you shall receive that content which you expect from my actions. Go then deare Muley [said I] and doe so, that in spight of my fetters and Tyrant, I may be yet capable of some happinesse. See how wee parted: Muley forsooke his retirement, and I returned into mine with a resolution not to come forth againe. I was there neere six moneths, without hearing any thing from the wicked Nephizus. Yet I understood by the dexterity of Atalida, and knew that that abhominable Prince having corrupted the good nature or rather the vanity of Abdelmelec, had made him take armes against the milde Hely, and that those 2 unnatural Children, forgetting what they owed their too indulgent father, were combinde together, to striue who first should deprive him of his Scepter with his life. I will not trouble you with the recitall of those domestique dissen­tions. [Page 163] Let me rather entertaine you with the extreame fidelity and brave actions of Muley. He had not been three monethes from the solicitudes of Atlas, when I heard by a Courier which my too-unsensible father had sent to Nephizus, that he was set on by Land and Sea and invested on all sides, by the forces which the great Turke had sent into Africa. That his Estate was as a prey, if he were not quickly assisted: and expecting from day to day to be besieged in Tunis, he intreated his Allyes, and all his neighboures, to prepare a pui­ssant succour, and thinke seriously how to deliver all Africk who would meet her train in that of Tunis. This Messenger came to Nephizus at Morocco: But he tooke little care to goe to Succour his father in Law that was obstinately busied about the ruin of his owne father. This courier was seconded by many others, who all instantly pressed for aide, but return'd all without obtaining any. And when I thought to have heard of the taking of Tunis, I understood that it had been miraculously reliev'd by the valour of a Man, who with a potent army of Arabians was come out of Numidia. I asked his name, and was answered that he would never make it knowne. But to enhance his actions, they told me that he had cut in peices the Turkish Army, burned a great many of his ships, pursued the Runawayes even to Argier, inhartned the inhabetants of Tunis, and made knowne to the King my Father, that he desired no other rewards for so generous an action, then the honour to have done it. I caused this Messenger very particularly to be demanded, whither they could know nothing concerning that man, from some one or other of the A­rabians, or whether he had not caused his troopes to carry some Device or marke by which he might be knowne? The Messenger sent me word that the generous stranger had so exactly caused his Secret to be observed, that none of them all had discovered him, and that in all the Ensignes of his army there was only seene two Arabian words, which signified Love and Obedience. Assoone as Atalida had tould me that paticularity, doubt no more of it said shee, 'tis Muley. He hath kept promise with me, and hath kept it so much the more generously, in that forgetting the indignities he receiv'd from my father, he would by his deliverance begin those brave actions I advised him to These great newes were not alone the cause that confirmed me in the opinion I had of my Lo­ver: Many more, as good, were brought me in less then four moneths, & the King my father being never able to know from whence was come to him so powerfull a defender, nor who he was writ to me oftentimes; that he beleiv'd, it was an Angell which his prophet had sent him, to reproove the Princes of Fez and Morocco, and his other Allyes, and throw an infamy on them for their perfidies and ingratiude. All this while Nephizus continued his trag [...]dies: But the end of them turning to his owne misery, he saw him­selfe constrain'd (as my old Governour made me beleeve) to save himselfe in a vessel, and [...]ly from the coasts of Morocco. These were the last newes I heard of him: For since Narcissus, though much urg'd by my prayers and teares would never tel me any thing of the man, but that they knew not what was become of him. A whole yeare I continued in this incertainty.

But when I thought on it least, I found my selfe in full liberty; for my old Eunuch sup­posing a command (which I believe was false) told me, that he was ingag'd to goe to the King my father in Law. I was much surpriz'd at this Iourney, yet imagining that he did it not without order, I thought it was from Nephizus, By little and little the most of my guard followed their Captaine, so that in lesse then eight or ten dayes, I saw my company reduced only to those servants I had brought with me from Tunis. Atalida was the first that told me of so incredible a novelty; but to make me beleeve it, they were forced (as I might say) to make me touch it with finger. When I was put out of all doubt, I stood so astonished at it, that (after I had been a long while in re-collecting my selfe) I cried out as if I had been in some great danger, and told Atalida that the liberty they gave me after so extraordinary a fashion, threatned me with some mischance far greater then that of my prison. Atalida did what she could to put off this imagination; But I knew too well the pernicious nature of Nephizus, either to beleive him capable of doing good, or to re­pent himsselfe of the misc [...]eife he had already committed. Assure thy selfe (said I Atalida,) that Nephizus hath not satisfied himselfe, th [...]t [...]e could sufficiently be aveng'd of me only by death or imprisonment, he hath without do [...]bt fo [...]n me (traytor as he is) to, make it belee [...]'d that I am a Princesse witho [...] [...]; and to make me double miserable she [Page 164] would deprive me of that sole consolation which is left to all unfortunate wretches, name­ly of being pitied by good and mercifull people. Nephizus, answered Atalida, may wel have so wicked a designe; But if it be true, that there is an eternall Justice which governs the motions of mortall mindes, it will not suffer for its owne interest, that Iniquity should grow so powerfull. Yet [Madam since you wil have it so] let us imagin that all men, follow­ing their inclination of doing ill, doe already doubt of your virtue, and deny you those con­solations, which your mis-fortune should receive from their charity. Have you not in your selfe a Comforter, that is a thousand times better then all those which you can expect from the world? The quiet minde, which the testimony of your conscience gives you, should make you heare without any feeling, nay with neglect, all that calumny it selfe can invent against you. These perswasions tooke not away all my feares, but (I confesse) they did the greatest part of them. Taking therefore a resolution that might serve for my justification, I left the Pallace, wherein I had been neere three yeares a prisoner, and went to Fez in an equipage answerable to my present condition. All the people shewed their love to me by their teares, and their feare by their Silence. Every where as I passed, I met with multitudes of men and women, which by their actions made me well understand that my misfortune could not be greater. When I came to the Pallace, I found there such an universall solitude and consternation, that I was faine to looke long time to meet with a man to whom I might speake. At last the House-keeper appeared, but to all the questi­ons I propos'd him, he gave mee no other answer then in shrugging up his shoulders, and shewing by his feare, that he was forbidden to talke, yet must I (said I then a loude) and will (happen what may) put an end to this silence, and know what Nephizus intends shall become of mee. What by prayers, urgings, and teares, at last I got one of Nephizus cheif Officers to tell me where his Master was, and the commands he had received from him; and so he answered me in sighing; that his Master was out of his country, and that befo [...]e he parted, he had given an especiall command to his subjects, not to acknowledge me any more for their Queen, but to entertain me in such a manner, that I should be inforced to re­turn to Tunis. This was all the Officer told me; But since I knew (by the wit of Atalida,) that the true cause of al these last wrongs sprung from a furious passion of Nephizus which he had gotten a year past, for one of the King his fathers women. I stood not to deliberate on what I had to doe, but the thought of Revenge presenting it selfe, advised me, to hold no more faith with him that had first violated that toward me, nor to take into my thought [as my Lord] that man who had used me as his Enemy; but (for the interest of my birth and Innocence) to pursue, even to the death, that miscreant who gloryed in the ruine of them both. This Councell I followed. Yet unwilling to make use of those meanes for that revenge, which might be condemned of good men, I thought it fit for me to have re­course to the protection of the King my Father, and to employ noe other assistance then his, for the obtaining a satisfaction from him that had so much wronged me. I therefore quickly got to Tunis and throwing my self at the Kings feet, besought him not so to have compassion of a daughter whom he had made miserable, as to resent the injuries he re­ceived from the Prince of Fez, in the persons of his children. That Prince, who before my marriage, I had found so jndulgent & Debonayr, even to an excess, losing in such an occa­sion, thatfeeling which nature & honour should have given him, was inexorable to my pray­ers, and insensible of the affronts I had received from Nephizus. I confesse to you that his impassibility was insupportable to me, and in the first stirrings of my greif, there escaped from me some words that were not so respectfull, as became the duty of a daughter, and my answeres put Muley-Hassen into such a fury, that before all his court he accused me to be the cause of the losse of my husband, the disorder of two Royall families, and many other offences. In conclusion, he not only refused me that assistance and protection which I intreated from him, but commanded me to depart from Tunis, and get back to finde out my Husband, & regain his favour, if I desired that he should acknowledg me for his daugh­ter. I see well (said I to him) that I must onely expect to have from heaven that succour which nature denyes me. Sir, I will obey your commands, & since I find my self a stranger in mine owne country, and odious even to him that gave me life, I abandon, without sorrow, both my native soyle and my father, and betake me to the most dreadfull Deserts of Afri­cae, [Page 165] to doe penance for those faults which the guilty throw on my Innocence. The same day that I spake thus to Muley, I went secretly out of Tunis, and without making use of that retreat which my Sister in particular offered me, went as farre as Numidia, to hearken after my faithful Muley. There I understood that he was gone to assist the King of Egypt, & that he had cut in peices two of the greatest armies that ever the Turks had sent against the Mummelucs. I sent divers Messengers to him to let him know the need I had of him: but not having the patience to attend their return, I crossed a great part of Numidia and without making my selfe known, imbarked at the first Port where I found shipping. I ar­rived at Alexandria, and from thence going up the Nyle the nearest I could to Cairo, some dayes after I came to the Court of Tomombay, and found all in a great rejoycing for the great advantages they had gotten over the Turke. The name of my Lover was there in such veneration, that he was called by the Prince himself, the deliverer of Egypt. This was truly to me a great comfort in mine adversities, to heare him so worthily spoken of whom I loved; but it was a redoubling of my greife, when they told me that he was gone from the Court, without taking his leave of the Prince, and not giving notice to his most cō ­fident friends of the necessity of his departing. Deare Muley, said I to my selfe, this suddain departing gives me a rare proofe of thy obedience. The love of mee hath made thee shut thine eyes to all other considerations, and thou hast beleeved, that thou shouldst gaine farre greater Empires then this, if thou could'st preserve me. Hoping therefore for no more in E­gypt, I returned to Tunis, and after I had staid there some dayes unknown, I re-imbarked me upon the assurance Atalida gave me, that I should not heare any newes of Muley but in Fez or Morocco. I went to Fez and learning nothing of what I desired, [...]passed the Streights, to get sooner and more safely to Morocco. I came in there so that it had been impossible for the very servants of Nephizus to know me, & staid there so long as I thought was fitting, to heare what was become of my unfaithfull husband, and my loyall Friend. But for al I could doe, my diligences and perquisitions were bootlesse. For Nephizus; they told me that being desperatly in love with the Princesse Ennoramita his wife, and not indu­ring she should be in the custody of the King her Father, he had besieg'd him in one of his Fortresses, to take her. But after the winning the place, and not finding her, he was neere dead for sorrow, and presently put to Sea to follow her. Imagine if I were amazed or no at these false tales, and what I was to iudge of it.

A [...] last, after I had long mused on this Adventure to no purpose, I understood by A­talida, [...]hat Nephizus was gone to the Canaries with that pretended Ennoramita. I had Learn'd from Fame, that you were not only King of them, but the defendor of the oppres­sed, the Avenger of persecuted virtue, and the Exterminator of Monsters and Tyrants. And for that reason, I resolv'd to take you for the Judg of my cause, and to implore your valor for the exemplary chastising of Nephizus perfidies and impostures. The Princess of Tunis could goe no further; for Atalida, in clapping her hands and shewing an extreame asto­nishment, cryed out that the old Eunuch Narcissus was come into the court of the Pallace with a great company of Trumpets and Armed men. Ennoramita not able to beleeve the astonished Damsel, ran to one of her Chamber windowes, which look'd into the Court, and knowing Narcissus; Permit not [if you please, said shee to Polexander] that any wrong be done to me in a place where you are the Master. Feare nothing Madam, answered Heroe: whosoever dares to think of losing the respect that is due to you, shall not doe it unpunished. And not only here, but wheresoever else you shall please to make use of mine arme, I shall hinder, as much as in me lieth, your enemies from wronging your vertue.

Scarce had he ended these words, but the Captaine of his guard came into Ennoramitas Chamber, and told him that a Herald, sent with a great trayne from Abdelmelec Prince of Morocco, to all the Courts of Vrope & Africk, requested instantly that he might be permitted to acquit himselfe in the presence of his Majesty, of that Commission his Prince had given him. Surely said Polexander, Abdelmelec hath knowne that I have his buckler: We must heare his Herald. In the meane time addressing himselfe to the Cap­taine of his Guard, goe and receive [said he] these strangers, and assure them that what­soever they have to say to me, they shall not need to feare any thing, more then if they were in Morocco. Ennoromit [...] then speaking: I intreat you a favour (said she to Po­lexander; [Page 166] whats that Madam, replied the Prince. Tis [said she] that I may have some time to speake with Narcissus, before his Masters command hath ingaged him to any extravigancy. You shall doe what you please, (answeared Polexander) but let his dis­course to mee be what it will, he shall not want of receiving as good entertainement at my hands, as if he had brought me the confirmation of that which Abdelmelec sometime promised me. I know that your thoughts are not capable of any imbecillity, (said the Princess of Tunis;) but I am sure withall, that the minde of Narcissus is not incapable of feare. As long as he shall imagine that you know not the cause of his coming, he will be reasonable enough to tell us, what is become of Nephizus. But assoone as he hath declar'd his charge, and by consequence, shall beleeve he hath offended you; he will thinke of nothing after, but how to get out of your power, and in his apprehension, and feare of being chastis'd, will not even know where he is. Polexander Laughing at the good opinion Ennoramita would worke in him of Narcissus courage, commanded he should be brought to him, assoone as he should be in case to be seene. The Eunuch, hol­ding of his nation a certaine proud severity, refus'd all that was offer'd him by Polexan­ders Officers, and could never be wonne to see him alone. Polexander hearing of these things in the presence of Ennoramita, shee intreated him to let Narcissus come to him with all his trayne; and told him [smiling,] that before that Ethiopian be­gan his Oration, shee would pesent her selfe to him in the quality of a Peti­tioner, and accusing the other of his ill treating her, would so force him to put by his gravity. Our Heroe approov'd of all that Amatontha desir'd, and going into the hall of the Princess lodgings, which was already fill'd with his Guard and other Officers, there receiv'd the venerable Narcissus. Scarce had the Eunuch made his reverences and first complements, but Ennoramita appear'd in the Hall, with a most desolate and afflicted countenance, and casting her selfe at Polexanders feet, besought him to give her his protection against many Enemies that did unjustly persecute her. I understood my Lord [said shee,] after the Prince had taken her up] that there was newly arrived in this place, one of the principall Agents of my Tyrants. I therefore beseech you, by the name you have gotten of the most Just Prince of the world, to harken to my complaints; and to beleeve, that I have gone a hundred and fifty leagues by sea in hope that you will grant me that, which my Country, my Parents, my Friends, and my Allyes have refus'd me. In saying so shee cast her eyes on Narcissus, who instantly knew her, and after shee had a while look'd on him, See [said shee to our Heroe] in taking the Eunuch by the hand, an inreproachable witnesse of those verities I am to tell you, and though he hath been of the number of those that have tormented me, yet I have nothing to say to him; for I know how farre the duty and faith of a servant bindes him to his Master. He belong'd to the Prince of Fez, and being answerable and obliged to him for a great Fortune, he could not lawfully consider any thing but his Interests. I acquit him also from all those miseries he hath made me suffer, but yet upon condition that he tell you before me, why he forsook me under a false pretext, whence 'tis for these two yeares and more, I have neither heard news of him nor of the King his Master, and for what cause Ne­phizus hath unworthily repudiated me.

The Old Narcissus hearing these last words of Ennoramita, lifted his hands to his eies to cope thence his teares; and having often sighed: My Lord (said he to Polexander) cast­ing himself at his feet) I should be unworthy that Name of a faithfull Servant, which this Princesse vouchsaf'd to give me, if even in that trouble and astonishment which her pre­sence causeth in me, I did not preserve enough of Judgement, to give to her Innocence that testimony she expects from my mouth. True Sir, this Princesse deserves to be protect­ed, since she is unjustly prosecuted. But J am deceiv'd in saying so: She hath no more need of protection, for shee hath not any persecuter. Narcissus, in saying so renew'd his teares, and was a long time ere he could dry them. Ennoramita moved with the sorrow of that Man who had alwayes mildly treated her, besought Polexander to re­tire into his Closset, that Narcissus might tell him in private those things that were not fit to be published. The Eunuch joyn'd his intreaties to those of the Princesse: and Polexander arising led her into his chamber; Narcissus follow'd them, and every one re­t [...]ring to leave them at liberty. The good old man moistning againe his le [...]n cheekes [Page 167] with a long current of tears, on this manner began the History of Nephizus Secrets.

That eternall Justice which is not allwaies fear'd, because it is not allwayes busied in the punishing of wicked men, hath at last made the poor Prince of Fez to feele, that it chastiseth with a great severity, when it long time defers his punishments. That power made him fall into the pit, which himselfe had digged, and to make it selfe re-doubtableto those Princes that live, hath suffered one of the greatest Princes of Affrica to dye so mi­serably, that even to this houre we can know no other thing of him, but that he is dead. What doe you tell me, cride Perselida?. What Narcissus, is the Prince of Fez dead! He is dead Madam (reply'd the Eunuch weeping) and all that I can say of his unhappy end is, that he hath served for food to the Monsters of the Ocean. Ennoramita made it well appeare, on this occasion, that a generous Soule is out of her Element, when she is constraind, either to resent her of the injuries, or to deny her compassion to those which are fallen (though justly) into any mis-fortune. No sooner was the Princesse assured of the death of her greatest enemy, but she lost the memory both of all the wrong she had received, and the protestations she had made to be avenged for them. She re­main'd a while recollected in her selfe, and casting downe her eyes, would have hid the teares that a true greife drew from her. At last, she declared her selfe [and after divers sighes] I confesse (said she, with a marvelous moderation) that I cannot chuse but be­wayle the unfortunate death of that young Prince. J forgive him, with all my heart, the wrong he hath done me; and beseech the dreadfull Majesty, before whom he is to give an account of the actions of his life, not to deale with him according to the rigor of his Just­ice. Polexander admir'd this excesse of goodnesse, and praysing so fair a change, intreated Perselida to be pleas'd that he might be cleard of a thing he had heard in Bajazets Jsland. The Princesse replyde, that he might doe all that he thought fit. Thereupon, Polexander tooke the old Eunuch by the hand, and intreated him to tell, why Nephizus had forsa­ken his country and his wife; and whither it were on the Mediterranean Sea, or the maine Ocean that they thought he had suffered shipwrack. I can satisfy your curiosity, re­plyde Narcissus, and in doing so, shall acquit my selfe of that whereto my Soveraigne Lady lately engaged me. Ennoramita having bestow'd farre more then she owed to the memory of her marriage, set her neer to Polexander, and Narcissus related to them what they desired to know, in these termes. About a yeere before I left you in the Pallace of the Desert (sayde he, addressing him to the Princesse of Tunis) my Lord the King wa [...] solicited by Abdelmelec to renew their ancient intelligence, and by a necessary warre to free their country, and even their Father, from the slavery wherein five or six Tyrants made them to languish: Nephizus, who was but too facile to be carried to any mischiefe, met with his brother, and by a parricidiall resolution, engag'd himselfe to put the kinde and meeke Hely from his Throne, and make him renounce by force that authority which he kept too long. This Attempter had the successe he deserved, for Nephizus forces were discomfited and himselfe taken prisoner. But the too indulgent Hely, unwilling to consent either to the death or imprisonment of his rebellious Sonne; satisfied him­selfe with keeping him under guard some few dayes; after which never remembring what had passed, he shewed him more love and more confidence then before, and utter­ly to undoe him, the too facile and weak Hely, shewed him (I dare not say indiscreetly) a young wonder, of whom [as old as he was] he was become passionately amorons. I would tell you the story of that fatall beauty, because tis most strange; but it serving nothing to my purpose, I will content my selfe with the relating to you, that she ar­rived on the coasts of Morrocco in the midst of the flames of a burning ship, as presaging the fires and flames that she was to kindle in that country. Nephizus had noe sooner seen that stranger, but he not only trod under foot the respect he was bound to carry to the passion of his father, but he forgot that which he lawfully ought to love, and what he had other times affected. The desire to enjoy this stranger wholy possessing him and making him to lose all reason, he thought that by cunning and glosing, it might be easie for him to come to the End of his pretentions; and being young and faire should with­out much difficulty get this marvell out of the hands of the good old man his Father. But after he had imployed in it all his wits, and all his confidents, he found himselfe farre short of his reckoning. For having to doe with an old Man, jealous, suspectfull, and sen­suall, [Page 168] and by consequence that was igno rant in nothing that was to be practisd to win a woman; his wyles were soone discovered, and he (to save his life) constrained to fly.

At that time he writ to mee by one of his Mutes, that I should shut you up more strict­ly then before, (and in saying thus, he bow'd his head to Ennoramita's foot) that I should not suffer you to be seene by any body, and on the penalty of my life, I should not suffer any person whatsoever to come neere the Advenues of your prison. He writ me not the cause of that rigorous command, but I discovered it, since Abdelmelec took me into his service. I will tel it you, because it serves for the cleering of many things which may have come to your knowledg; and besides having oftentimes examin'd it, I found in it so much I know not what, of incredible, and so prodigious, that I call it doubt so of­ten as I thinke on it, though? have had the confirmation from a thousand witnesses worthy of faith. See what twas, and Judge whether I have cause to speake as I doe. Ne­phizus inflam'd with love, with Despite, Anger, and Shame, arm'd more powerfully and openly then he dar'd doe till then, and having gotten the principall Townes, to give co­lour to his detestable rebellion, publish'd a Manifest against Hely, which I Cannot remem­ber; but my hayr riseth an end with the horror thereof. Among the great number of crimes whereof he accused that poore Prince, he reproach'd him with the stealing of you away to satisfy his execrable lust, and maintayned that she whom they cunningly call'd the stran­ger Iphidamanta, was the true Perselida, Amatonta, Ennoramita Princess of Tunis. The people were not the sole, who, suffering themselves to be corrupted by that malignity which is but too naturall to them, gave credit to so prodigious a calumny, but many of the principal in the state either beleev'd it, or to have cause to take up armes, made shew to beleeve it. Abdelmelec said in good Company, that for the manner of all his Fathers living, there was nothing in matter of love but might be credited of him. And the too-Amorous Hely, hearing this accusation, was in doubt of the truthes which the stranger Iphidamanta had assured to him. But being againe confirm'd by her selfe, in his former be­liefe, he caused an answer to be made to his Sons Manifest, to justify him from so black a supposition; and thinking to avenge himselfe, commanded all his followers not call the faire stranger by any other name then Ennoramita; and he observ'd the same he commanded others, and by this trick of youth made that name so famous, that the people of Morocco will not in a long time forget it.

So (if it be lawfull for mee to speake with that boldnesse) by the folly of Hely, and the malice of Nephizus, your Name (Madam) and imagination, became as the fatall fire­brand, which the Enemy Demon of our peace put into the hands of the Father and Chil­dren, to make desolate the most flourishing Provinces of all Africa. In a word, after their writings, they came to blowes. The Sonnes gave the Father Battle, overcame him, thrice made him fly shamefully from Morocco, and compell'd him to seeke for re­fuge in Guargetssem, to escape from their fury. Yet could he not be secure, for a little time after he was be [...]eig'd, and in spight of all his mens valour and resistance, reduc'd to the lamentable necessity of seeing himselfe, and what he loved more then himselfe, at the discretion (since in the power) of Nephizus. The ill advised Prince entred Victoriously into Guargetssem; Yet gather'd he not by so deplorable a Victory, the fruit he promis'd himselfe. Assoone as he was Master of the fortress, he would needes visit it all. He found his father in a Bed dangerously wounded, but seeing not Iphidamanta with him, he went to search for her, even to the bottom of the Casamatts. He was not like to meet her; for shee fled by sea with one Osmin, who within these few yeares, by meanes of his exces­sive favour, had been the pertext of all the revolts, and all the Warres of the two Bro­thers. The flight of that stranger had neere been the death of Hely, for Nephizus en­raged at her losse, came with his Cymiterre in his hand, even to the Bed of that miserable King, and vomiting against him all that his sury fild him with, he threatned to passe his Weapon through his Body, if he would not restore to him his wife. Abdelmelec staid that blow, and pulling his Brother thence by force, forsooke him not, til he saw him in a great repentance for the parricide he would have Committed. But the passion he was in for the faire stranger, and on the other side the remorse of Conscience not suffering him to stay longer at Morocco, he got some one to intreate his Father, to give him one of his great ships of warre, and assoone as he had gotten it, he imbarqued himselfe with [Page 169] forty of fifty of his Complices. To tell you whether he intended, or what became of him, is not in my Power; for what enquiry soever I have made, I have not been able to know any thing of him, for a certaine. Some have told me that he was shipwrack'd neare the Canaries, and that there were found in the Isle of Fer certaine Arabick Characters engraven on the barke of a tree, which said, that the miserable Nephizus, after he had lost all, was come to seeke his death in that place; Others averred that he had been taken by Pyrats in the same Isle of Fer, and that after he had in diverse occasions made shew of his valour among them, they had thought him worthy to command them.

However, tis but too true that Nephizus is dead. I thought to have been one of the first that had heard of it; and assoone as 'twas brought me, I deem'd it fitting to ad­vertize, secretly, Abdelmelec of all; and not to give you any suspition of it, I made you beleive that Hely commanded me to come to him. Vnder this pretext I left you at Li­berty, and by great Journeys came to Arsile where Abdelmelec kept his Court. He knew nothing of the death of his brother, when I told it him. He gave me great thankes for it, and for many reasons conjur'd me to keepe this newes secret. He in the meane while that would make his benefit of it, came to the King his father, and made shew to him of so great a greife for his passed offences, and such a desire to repaire them by his fidelity and obedience; that the mild Hely not only restored him to his favour, but al­most resign'd to him all his authority. Those two Princes might now have named them­selves perfectly happy, if the one could have cured himselfe of that passion whereof he still languished, and kept for the pretended Ennoramita, and if the other had heen wise enough to free his mind from a fantasie, the most unreasonable that love is able to pro­duce. And now, since that love is the cause of my voyage, 'tis not from the purpose if I tell you what is permitted me to publish. Know then, that above four yeares since, Ab­delmelec is falne in love with a Princesse which he never saw but in Picture, and which he shall never see otherwise. This Princesse is called Alcidiana, and is Queene of an Island farre separated from these heere, and [incomparably] more fair then these are. This little peice of land is called, by some, the celestiall Island, by others the Inchanted Isle, but the most proper name is that of the Innaccessible Island, because all the Arte of Naviga­tion, nor the best steerage of the most experienced Pilots of the world can bring a vessell to any Port there, this impossibility doth Abdelmelec know, nor is he ignorant that, to love Alcidiana, is to love farre more vainly, then to fall in love either with the Sun or or some other Starre. Yet he perseveers in this unreasonable affection, and since he was thus bewitch'd, there hath not pass'd a yeare wherein he hath not undertaken one or two voyages with an endeavour to get to a place, which every day he himselfe calls In­accessible. Tis not long since, that [to content his sencelesse passion] he caused to be built the most rich and brave vessell that [may be] ever sayld on the main Ocean. But scarce was he imbarqued, when by an unexpected surprize he was beset by eight or ten sayl of Pyrats and enforc'd (spight of all his valour) to give way to their number; and after a bloody skirmish got from them, in spight of all their obstacles, by vertue of his armes: Yet esteeming farre lesse that which he had sav'd, then what he had lost, he even thought to have dyed with greif when he saw himselfe in safety, because he remembred that one of the Pyrates by craftinesse had stoln from him his buckler: and they were faine by vio­lence to keep him from returning to fight, for he would die or recover that Buckler, and would do it the more earnestly because he had caus'd to be painted on it the Portraict of Alcidiana. Though Polexander thought that Narcissus spoke of him without know­ing him, and noted the truth through the fable which the pride of the Prince of Moroc­co had invented to disguise the fight wherein he lost his buckler; neverthelesse he would not make appeare to the old Ethiopian that he had any knowledge of it. He laugh'd to himself, at the foppery of Abdelmelec who to hide-the shame of his defeat, had given out that divers vessells had set on his, and afterwards he listned againe to the narration of Narcissus

The King my Master (said the Eunuch) long time pursued the ravishers of his treasure, but being neither able to come up to them, nor to know whence they were, He returned to Morocco, with an intent rather to lose him selfe then leave the portraict of Alcidiana in the custody of a company of Barbarians. He had a mind to cause a part of his Navy to [Page 170] be made ready, and to scoure along the seas, from these Isles to that of the Pyrats, to fight with all the vessels he should meete in his course, that by the taking of a great many Rovers, he might heare newes of those that had robd him. But the famous Abul Ismeron, who among all the Moores is held for a great Prophet, advised him not to undertake that voyage. I Know, said he, by the rules of mine art, and See it written in heaven as a thing infallible, that in this very place, thou shalt by the solemnity of a publique feast meete with him that hath robd thee of thy Buckler. Hasten that day, by the proclama­tion of some Turney, and send Heralds through all the courts of Africa, to oblige all Princes to appeare here, and to fight for the Beauty of their Mistris.

Abdelmelec liked of that councell, and not to defer the execution of it, commanded me to goe through the Countries neerest to his own, not only to defie all young Knights in his name, but to publish, before all the World, that he held for a Theef and a Coward, that man who had taken his Buckler from him, when he was not in case to defend it, if he came not to Morocco, brought not the Buckler he had stole, and after he had de­posited it, assaied not to gai [...]e it by a just combat. But since in that Turney, his principal intent, is not to defend the Beauty of Alcidiana, for whome he hath oftentimes al­ready taken armes; but to aveng him on the stealer of his Buckler; He Declares too, that no Knight shall be receiv'd to fight, till (in a Place that shall be appointed for speech) he have first made knowne, who he is, whence he came, who is his Mistris, and have purg'd himselfe by an oath, that he knowes nothing of them that stole the portraict of Alci­diana.

Narcissus finishing thus his discourse, humbly besought Polexander to be pleas'd that he might publickly performe his charge; and that before all his court he might, at liberty▪ declare the intention of the prince his Master. Our Heroe witnessing his being pleased with his civility, gave him leave to doe and say what he would; and for feare (said he) least some one of your traine may accuse you for not, punctually enough, observing what you have been commanded, I will be present at what you doe, and receive my selfe Abdel­melec's challenges. Narcissus gave him thanks for his Nobleness, and leaving Perselida Amatonta in an estate, that shew'd the agitation and mildenesse of her Spirit, return'd into the hall where his Trumpets and followers staid for him. Polexander came thither a little after, and his presence commanding silence to all, and there ranking them in their places, ask'd aloude of Narcissus what he had to say to him: Scarce had he pro­nounc'd those words, but the Trumpeters got the windowes of the Hall, and with the noise of their sounding deaf [...]ed all that were within the palace. After they had done, Narcissus presented himselfe at the foot of Polexanders Throne, and holding in his hand a piece of velume, written on in the Arabick, Spake thus,

Abdelmelec Prince of Morocco, and of Fez, and Trevisan, Vanquisher of Nations, and Commander over the one and other Sea, knowing that honour is the sole price, for which great Princes, as himself, should be industrious, hath never taken armes, not left the quiet of his Court, but for the possession of a thing so generally desired. He hath attained to what he pretended, and his Paines, Valour, and good Fortune, have acquir'd him so great a name in the world, that he cannot with justice expect any thing more signall from the Knowledg of mankinde. And well truly might he repose him­selfe deliciously under the shadow of his own palmes, if Love, jealous of so great a re­nown, had not robd him of his heart, to the intent to make him lose the quality of invincible. Yet he had recover'd both the one and the other, if by a prodigious adventure, Love had not shut up that Beauty for whome our prince languisheth, in a place which no mortall can attaine unto. This impossibility stirrs up the great heart of Abdelmelec, but it wearies not his constancy. He first aspires to that which his reason tels him he can never arrive at. He Loves, he Desires, but he hopes not to enjoy: and as that Nation which adores the Sun, worship it, because they beleeve it to be the portraict of the Divinity which they cannot see So my Lord the Prince, not being able to hinder the admiration of Pictures, by authority of his example as much as by that of his Scepter, hath caused them even to be ador'd, by those to whome the great prophet Mahomet hath for bidden the worshiping of Images. Now it hath happened by a Treason, the most base that was ever committed, that one of those faire pictures, is fallen into the hands [Page 171] of a miserable Pyrate, who without question, is barbarous enough not to know his good fortune. Abdelmelec therefore, not enduring that so sanctified a thing should be expos'd to the outrages of the prophane, hath resolv'd to purchase it againe with the price of his owne blood, and couragiously to hazard his life and estate in a warre which his love makes him call Holy. But for as much as he knowes not the aboad of those sacriligious persons who have put their execrable hands on the sacred portraict of her visible divinity he hath sent Spies into all parts to hearken after it; and intreates all Princes and Knights that love honour, to interest themselves in his quarrell, and come quickly to Morocco to consult with him of the meanes he should take to make those Pyrates feele a punish­ment that may be somewhat answerable to the greatnesse of their crime. And in the mean time, if it had chanc'd that any Prince, Moor or Christian, were associated with these theeves, to have gotten by treachery what he thought he could not obtaine by a just combat; he gives him to understand, whatsoever he be, that he holds him for a coward, and a Traytor, if he declare not in the publick place of Morocco, that equally forc'd by the feare of Abdelmelec, and the violence of his passion, he craftily made himself Master of Alcidiana's portraict; But acknowledging his low merit, he repents him of his theft, and restores the faire picture to his lawfull owner. And to the end that no man finde any pretext to fayle at this Assignation, My Lord the Prince sends, for the security of all (Christians and Moores) his Pass-ports and safe conducts in the best form that they can desire.

In saying thus, he presented to Polexander the velume which he had unfolded at the be­ginning of his speech. Our Her [...]e (having with much constraint refrain'd from laughter, for the extravagant titles and insupportable vanities that fill'd up almost all the writing) said to the old Narcissus (for all the answer he was to have there) that if his affaires did not call him to some other place, he would quickly be at Morocco, and (may be) would bring Abdelmelec newes of his Buckler. After he had thus spoken he arose, and giving leave to all the company to depart, retyr'd to the Princesse of Tunis. When he had been a while in discourse with her about the extravagancy of Abdelmelec, and seeing her extreamely musing and melancholly: I have not much lesse cause then you (said he) to meditate deeply on those strange Adventures which the old Narcissus hath related to us. For if they be all true, I find I am involv'd in the follyes of Nephizus, and compeld, in respect of my blood, to declare my selfe his Eni­mie. But what? (said I) Nephizus is dead, and what outrage soever he hath endeavoured to have done me, I will by your Example sacrifice all my choler, and all my resentment on his Tombe. On the other side, I conceive a thing which astonisheth, and rejoyceth me together. For if my conjectures deceive me not, this stranger Iphidamanta, (that Nephi­zus would have to be taken for you, that he might so get her from his father) is my Sister the Princesse Cydaria, and twinne Sister of that Prince from whom she hath borrowed the Name of Iphidamant. This being soe, as I cannot almost any more doubt of it, Cyda­ria is not dead, as I beleev'd hitherto; and he was not well inform'd who reported to me that she perish'd in a ship all on fire, in sight of the Fortresse of Guarguetssem. That which most strongly perswades me, is, the particularity of the burning of Cydarias ship agrees well with that which Narcissus hath related to us touching the arrivall of the false Ennoramita on the coasts of Morocco. There is this difference that my servants re­lated to me, how the Sea had swallowed up my Sisters vessell: and I finde by Narcissus reccitall, that that wherein she was, was cast on the coastes of Morocco. Ennoramita a­wakening at this, as out of a deepe sleepe; Have I (said she to Polexander) dream't, that she who Nephizus would have to be taken for me, should be your Sister. I have told you so Madam, (he replyde and added withall) it can be none but she: and more 'tis only she that hath delivered you from Nephizus. How could this Miracle be done (asked Ennoramita presently?) Tis hard for me to tell you (said Polexander) for I doe onely guesse in this businesse. Yet I think I doe not deceive my selfe, and therefore mark why I imagime [...] it. I was not long since in Bajazets Island, and there bound to make some stay. A thousand incomparable qualities justly intitles him the prime man of these times, wonne me to the curiosity of knowing who he was. Among al those of whom I enquir'd, there was not one that could, or would tell me any thing else, but that he was a Prince [Page 172] that he was become the protector of the Pyrats, to the end he might finde againe a young Princess, with whom he was passionately in Love, and that he was gottēn to be Gene­rall of the Rovers, by a way as glorious, as it was extraordinary. I earnestly pressed him that spake to mee, to tel me what had happened of Rare, and so much renowne n the election of Bajazet. After I had long time intreated him, he answered me thus. [...]Our last Generall (of whose Birth or first condition, neither I nor any of my compani­ons, could ever learne any thing,) being by the suffrages of all elected, and setled in the place of valiant Abinadac, deceiv'd the hopes we had conceiv'd of his courage, and ruin'd the designes we had on the Portugalls, by a resolution he tooke to make warre with a Kingdome neere to this Island, which is call'd the realme of Benin. Wee oppos'd him awhile, and gave him all the reasons wee could to hinder that voyage. But that headstrong and Wilfull Spirit, making use of this unbounded power we had given him, as we doe to all our Generalls, constraind us to follow him in that unhappy expe­dition. I may well call it unhappy, since wee got nothing but the shame of fayling in our enterprise, and the sorrow for the losse of many of our Captaines. Indeed the cause of that journey deserv'd no better a successe. For it was nothing but a meere extravagancy of a young man, and a blinde desire to enjoy a Christian, call'd the faire Ennoramita, who, may be, was no fairer then five or six hundred others that were kept in the Island for the Generalls pleasure. When that Nephizus (I have learnt our Generalls Name was so, before wee call'd him Amurat) was arrived at Benin, and saw himselfe com­pell'd to give ground to the Kings sonne, and by consequence, to lose the hope of pos­sessing his Mistris, he committed the actions of a mad man. He accus'd us of Treason and cowardize, and commanded wee should follow, and perish with him, in the mid'st of his Enemies. But when he saw that those which were with him, in Lieu of obeying, brought him back by force into his ships: turne yet at last (said he) turne your weapons on mee, & shew me on this occasion, that it is not falsely, that you have vanted to have an entire & blinde obedience, for those to whom you have given the power to command you. Why doe you stay? No, No, doe not deliberate. Tis farre more just, that you should obey me now, then it was when I forc'd you to follow mee into this country. I would dye, my companions, and if you are not so much my friends to deliver mee from a Life that is troublesome to me, you will enforce me either to make use of mine own hands to rid me of it, or [...] run miserably imploring those of mine Enemies. Do not think that Ambition or avarice hath made me accept the command, of a company that made vaunt themselves to be Masters of the Ocean. No, my birth gave me titles and riches enough, to have no need of those which you so generously granted mee. Twas only Love, (I say that Love which made me finde such delights in that Miserable estate wherein you found me after my ship­wrack) which hath made me wooe your protection, fight for you, and lastly made me receive with joy, the quality of your Generall. It likewise made me hope that by your assistance, I might one day recover the treasures my owne Father had rob'd me of; it promised me, if I perseverd in my passion, that even the faire and Divine Ennoramita, (in spight of all the forces of Benin) should be the reward of my constancy. In a word, I secur'd my selfe, that being seconded by your valour, I should finde no obstacle in my enterprizes. And yet you see in the meane time, that a multitude of naked and fearefull people, a Nation so Barbarous, that they know not the use of armes, shamefully pursues mee, drives me into my vessells, and by a prodigy, which carries no shew of truth, in making me lose the hope of my good fortune, hath deprived you of the fruition, of your Honour: But now I have consider'd that you and I have been equall losers; Ire­voke the request I made you (my companions) I aske you no more for Death. I only intreate you to have a care of your reputation, and returning altogether to the City of Benin, that wee avenge our selves alike of our common Enemies.

This Speēch had so great power with all us that were with him, that treading under foot all feare, and all other consideration, wee bid him leade us boldly on, and he should then confesse, that it was not without reason, that he hoped much of our as­sistance. Presently wee got into our Shallopps, and landed againe. Amurat, ravish'd with our resolution, put himselfe in the front of us, march'd right up to his Enemies, charg'd them, amazd' them, overthrew them, put them to flight and press'd on them [Page 173] so, that he entred their Towne together with them. We thought we had no more to doe, then to gather the fruit of our Victory, when we saw our selves set on by men far more resolute then those wee had routed. The Prince of Benin made them fight and by his example made them so valiant, that 'twas then our turne to retire, and to contract all our pretentions within the only thought of defending our selves. My companions, de­siring rather to dye in their conquest, then to survive to their losse, made a vow not to abandon their stations, and almost all of them made it good, for there died aboue two thirds of them on the place. Amurat perceiving that the more Blood the fury of the E­nemy shed, the more it increas'd, became instantly and wholely capable of a passion far more shameful and base then that of Love. He began to be affraide, and in his terror not only forgot his Mistris, but himselfe too; and so leaving the City of Benin, and drawing us after him, caus'd us to make as much hast to our shipps, as he had wonne us to goe from them. Wee set Sayle that very night, in such a disorder, that we never look'd after any one of our companions. To our Tempest by land, there succeeded another by Sea; wherein we ran no lesse hazzard. Assoone as it was overblown, our vessel was assayl'd by an other, which at the first wee tooke for a Portingall. But when wee were grappell'd, wee knew it belong'd to the King of Benin, and that the Prince his Sonne, had imbarqued himselfe in it to follow us. The Combat began againe with an in­credible Fury; and the Prince of Benin, giving oftentimes the name of Traytor and Ra­visher to our Generall▪ made him feele that supernatural valour, which caused us to looke on him as a God descended from heaven to converse with men. He gash'd Amurat with so many blowes, that after he had forc'd him to fall at his feete, he offer'd his Cy­miter to his throate, and told him he must either dye, or restore the Princess whom he had stolne. Amurat witnes'd an extream Scorne and Anger to see his Enemy so cruell as to make him his jeast, and subject of laughter, after he had vanquish'd him. This last outrage gave him his Mortall blow. Yet in that last instant of life, he had the comfort to be bewail'd, even of the person that killd him.

At that word Polexander, altering his voice, Til now (said he to the Princess of Tunis) I could never know, whether Amurat-Nephizus was the Prince of Morocco, or some other, that had taken on him the name of Nephizus. But after our hearing that which Narcissus hath told us, there is left for it no place of doubting: no truly; (an­swered him Ennoramita Sighing) and by an effect of that providence which produ­ceth every thing in its due season, I finde the end of Tyranny in the same place where I came to seeke for succours against the Tyrant.

Ah cruell and inconstant Nephizus (said she with her eyes full of teares) why dost thou compell me to be inhumane against mine owne resentments, and to rejoyce at thy unfortunate end▪ But I am injurious to the eternall Justice, which hath restor'd to me that Libertie, whereof by thee I was wickedly deprived. I do owe that power any due acknow­ledgements for thy punishments, and consecrate to it the fetters from which by that vertue, I am miraculously delivered, Go then, Goe, Nephizus, to that place, whither the rigorous Iudge of Soules calls thee. Answer, if thou canst possibly, the severe examination of the black Angell. Finde out justifications for thy voluptuousnesse, for thy madnesse and parricide! But above all, thinke seriously on the actions of my life, that thou mayst not goe on in accusing me unjustly with thy excesse and offences. In the meane time, I blot thee out of my memory as an Apparition that affrights me, and burying under the waves which (may) have swallowed thee, thy cruelties and thy Name; I re-give me entirely to him alone, to whom heaven and my will gave me, assone as I was of discretion. Come deare Muley, receive the rewards of thy travells and constancy: Hasten to the consolation of Perselida. Put thy selfe in possession of what hath long been thine owne, and make it knowne to all obstacles, which thou hast surmounted without doing a­ny thing, either senting the coward or guilty, that our Vnion was written in heaven, by that puissant and infallible hand, that gives Order and lasting to all things. After Ennora­mita had thus ended, Polexander continued the discourse, and having confirmed the prin­cesse in the resolution she had taken, left her with Atalida, and her other Domestique Ser vants, to the end she might the more freely discharge her selfe, of all whichthe change of her [...]prtune had burthe [...] her minde▪ Polexander went to Zelmatidas chamber to ex­cuse [Page 174] his leaving him alone, and relate Ennoramitas Adventures: But he understood by Alcippe, that he was got on horseback with Garruca, and rid towards the great Wood of Cedars. We must leave him to his liberty, (said Polexander) and not looke after a re­medy for those maladies which are not capable of any. He therefore retyr'd into his cham­ber & after he had given som new orders for the safegard of the Isle of Tenriff, which was again threatned by the Portingalls, shut him up with Alcippe to think on the means were left to bring him to the Island of Alcidiana. I am resolved (said he to his Favorite) to take courses farre different from those I have run hitherto. It hath been impossible for us to do any thing (to that purpose) by force. We must use cunning & (so dextrously deceive Alcidianas Pilots, that they may conduct us, without knowing whither we intend to go. Alcippe, seeming to allow his resolution, answered, I imagine that this project may have a successe according to your Majestyes wish. But when you are got to Alcidianas I­land, what good, what content hope you for it? In that equipage wherewith you will there appeare, you will never be taken for your selfe, but run a hazard to be punished as an Imposter that would faine make himselfe passe for what he is not. Either you should not desire your returne to the Innaccessible Island, or should desire it with all the Marks and advantages that belong to your condition to the end that Alcidiana who onely doubts of what you are, may by the bravery and state of your attendance, change her doubts into certainties. I would willingly follow thy councell, answer'd Polexander, but thou seest tis impossible. If I should make ready a fleet of two or three hundred Ships, If I should put into them all that treasure which the Queen my mother hath left me, If I should get al my Subjects to abandon their houses, wives, and children, to imbarque with me, all this great preparation would have so poore a successe, that even scarce the noyse of it would be heard in the Innaccessible Iland. No, no my freind, this Adventure must end as it began: Chance brought me with a small company to Alcidiana, and chance must bring me thither againe in the same equipage. But to what will it serve you to be there in that fashion (replyd Alcippus?) Ah my dear friend (answered Polexander▪ bring me first to Alcidianas Iland, and when we are there, we will think of resolving thy difficulties. In saying so he arose very sad, & to omit nothing of that which civility requir'd from him, went againe to the Princesse of Tunis. He perceived how, in that little time he had been absent, she had gone a great way. For she had absolutely forgotten Nephizus, and with him, all the torments that he had made her indure. She talk'd now of nothing but Muley-Hassen, promised her selfe nothing but roses and delights, and troubled her selfe no more with any thing, but about the place where she might meet her Lover.

Polexander made her, to that purpose, all the offers fitting, and promis'd to send even to Alexandria, to inquire what was become of that Prince. I thanke you, (said Ennorami­ta) The good Angel of Muley assures me that I shall not be long from meeting him. I will leave that great Affair to so sage a conductor, and expect from heaven the end of that miracle, to which it hath given so fair a beginning. Shee had no sooner ended those words, but the weakness of her nature, appearing by motions out of time, threw her againe into her former feares, renew'd her first disgraces, and perswaded sometymes that Ne­phizus was not dead, and then againe that Muley was not Living. Our Heroe noted, with astonishment, this Ebb and Flood of her minde, and thinking it would be but the opposing an impetuous torrent to go about to stay the agitation of the Princess, wisely avoyded what he was not able to overcome. He began then to talk of Abdelmelec's defi­ance, and declaring to the Princess, the unjustnesse of the Moores complaints: There is (said he) I know not what Fatality in the house of Morocco, which inforceth all those that come out if it, to make themselves remarkable by some great extravagancy. But of late their madnesse hath alter'd, and so much for the better changed, that it is grown tame, and of cruell, is become humane and civill. Ambition, heretofore made them carry fire in one hand, and the Sword in the other. There was nothing so holy which was not viola­ted by their impiety, nor so just that could escape their Injustice. The children stabd the ponyard into the bosome of their fathers, The fathers cut the throates of their Children. The bonds of blood and parentage stood in no other stead then to bring the unfortunate more surely to execution.

In a word all was permitted to the desire which these new Princes had to govern. Now [Page 175] that they are got in possession of their Masters Estates, & that they command every where, who were there wont to obey; they have gone from the voluptuousnesse of a Lion to that of a Dog. They have no other object but infamous pleasures: and the Honour of Ladies runs lesse hazard amongst the Wild Arabians and other Robbers of Africa then in the Court of Hely. I Confesse I speake in heate, but I finde my selfe obliged to it, by so many considerations; that if I were not insensible of the outrages of the Princess of Morocco, I should be an enemy to virtue and Nature.

Ennoramita, contentedly smiling at the last words of Polexander: tis not (said shee) your owne quarrell that you defend, but mine, and tis Perselida that makes knowne her just greivances, when Polexander speakes. This discourse went no farther, for the Kings Officers came to tell him his supper staid for him. He did with a good grace an action, which a man comes ill off on, when he does it with too much punctuality. He intreated the Princess of Tunis to goe take an ill repast; and without insisting on irksome com­plement, had the fitnesse to entertaine her with Muley-Hassen, til she came into the Hall where they were to sup. To let you know the greatnesse of that Feast, tis enough to say, that it was made at the cost, and by the Order of the most Magnificent and polish'd Prince of his time. Ennoramita being set at table, with the thought of soone-seeing Prince Muley, was extreamely plea [...]ant all the supper time. She told Polexander that he should remem­ber his good freind Abdelmelec, and send for the old Narcissus. This discourse pro­duc'd many Causes of Laughter, even so farre that some of the Courtiers tooke the Boldnesse to jeast at the Moorish Prince in his absence, and to exalt his Combats in a man­ner far more dangerous then if they had openly mock'd at him. But Polexander im­pos'd silence to those jeerers, but unwilling to have them thinke that he tooke the protection of impertinent Princes, without a reason: it is injustice, said he, to expect in Princes, those Qualities which are altogether Miraculous; they are men as other men, and are infinitely more worthy of praise then private ones, when they do nothing else but make themselves Masters over Ordi­n [...]ry vices. This discourse drew on others during their re­past, and furnish'd them with entertainement all the Evening. The houres for bed approaching, Po­lexander took leave of Ennoramita, and having expected Zelmatida til two houres after midnight, gave the rest of the night to an infor­ced repose, and an often interrup­ted Slum­ber.

The end of the First Book Of the second Part of POLEXANDER.


POLEXANDER Had but laugh'd at the insolent Challenges which the old Eunuch had given him from Abdelmelec, but when he had left Perselida, he reflected on the vanities and insolencies of the Moorish Prince, and thought that since Alcidiana was wrong'd, he was bound to be sensible of it, and therefore presently resolv'd to returne once more to Morocco, and by an exemplary chastisement, reduce his unworthy Rivall to the necessity of being wiser. With this intention he went to bed, and by meanes of his musing, entred into such impatiencies, that he slept as little all night, as if he had layne on thorns. Assoone as twas day he arose, and scarce allowing himselfe time to be dress'd, went with Alcippus to Zelmatida's Chamber. He found him in his bed, where according to his wonted custome, he gave himselfe a prey to melancholy, and complain'd of his surviving the Mexican Princess. After that Polexander had intreated him to attend that succour which infallibly time would give him, and entertain'd him with the adventures of Perselida Amatonta; I can (said he) relate, to you a novelty that will no lesse make you wonder, then the fortunes of this Princess. Tis like, that yet you may remember the enconter? wee had in coming hither, and the Combat wherein we were ingaged, by the pride of the Knight with the golden Armour, know, that the same Knight, who, as you saw, defended bad enough the portraict of Alcidiana, hath now a great desire to recover it. But not knowing who twas that tooke it from him, and thinking he cannot have any newes of it by ordinary meanes, he hath publish'd a Turnament, whereto indifferently he invites all Knights; and promiseth full safety to Christians as well as Mahometans. He declares by his Cartells, that he will receive no man to just with him, til he have made known to the appointed Judges for the courses, who he is; who is his Mistris; and what pretension he hath to Alcidiana. He adds to it, that every one shall be bound to purg himself by oath, of the theft he supposeth hath bin done him, and to name who was the Author, if there be any that know him. And in conclusion, he calls to Combat the Pretender Robber, and protests to hold him for a coward and an infamous person, if he make not his apparence at the Turney, and that (after he hath de­posited the portraict of Alcidiana) if he strive not to get it by a just Combat. Tis boot­lesse for mee to tell you, to whom this packet addres'd it selfe, for you know well, that I [Page 178] am the Theife against whom Abdelmelec makes his protestations. I see it very well (re­plyed Zelmatida) and would you be rul'd by me, [the witnesse of your conscience be­ing for you] I would not [were I in your place] trouble my selfe about any justification. If there were none in the world but Zelmatidas [said Polexander] I would doe as you advise me But when I consider, that the greatest number of men is composed of fooles and miscreants; and further, that our reputation is servilely knit to the opinion, of the multi­tude; I think that we are ingaged to make it appeare what we are; and hold that whoe­ver lives amongst people incapable of the soveraigne wisdome, tis more vitious to go a­gainst custome then against virtue.

This Doctrine was not taught in our world (replyed Zelmatida) and I know not whe­ther it be good or bad, therefore you may doe as you please. Well then (said Polexander) since it must needs be so, I will to Morocco; and [without making my selfe known) strive to gain, better then I have done, the Buckler of Abdelmelec. I see well what the matter is, (answer'd Zelmatida) you would have none but you that should keepe Alcidiana's pict­ure. This designe is worthy of you; but beware that Abdelmelec have not made this match to have you at his mercy, and avenge himselfe of the affront he hath received, without running the hazard of receiving another. Abdelmelec is vaine (replyed Polexander) but yet generous. The good opinion he hath of himself leades him to ridiculous actions, but it will never make him to do any ill-ones. He thinkes himselfe farre more valiant then he is, and though in his combats he come off with the worst, he doth not therefore think himselfe overcome. He casts his mishap sometime on Fortune, sometime on the Sunne, and otherwhile on his Horse; and in breife, not to accuse himselfe at any time, he ever accu­seth some innocent. As for my selfe, I doubt not but he thinkes me the greatest Theife in the world, and Imagines I have gotten his Buckler by treachery, but that I keepe me con­ceal'd for feare he should meet with me. This being so (sayd Zelmatida) you are obliged to go to Morocco, to put that Prince in his right witts. But (replyed Polexander) whilst I am in that Journey, who shall keepe you company? The shadow and remembrance of Izatida (said Zelmatida sighing) Those precious reliques of my happinesse are my faith­full companions. They never forsake me, and entertaine me so sweetly, that (without of­fence to the incomparable Spirit of Polexander) I find nothing that pleaseth me better. But what need you trouble your selfe? Doe not you know that Zelmatida is a wretch, which should be no more accounted among the living? Polexander, (unwilling to continue this conversation) oftentimes embraced the melancholly Zelmatida, and so took leave of him, after he had given an assurance of his speedy returne. Assoone as he was in his lodg­ing, he sent for an old Knight that had been his Governour, and since by him made Vice-Roy of the Canaries. Him he commanded to observe Zelmatida as himself, and to do nothing without his ordering. His Vice-Roy answered that he would not faile in what he had prescrib'd him, and that he would endeavour to behave him in such an observance, that he should have no cause to be discontented.

I intreat you Father, said the King, to perform it, and with that went to the Princess of Tunis, who had sent to looke for him whilst he was with Zelmatida. He wondred to see her ready so early, and wanting time to imploy those obliging termes which com­lacency hath made men invent to [...]atter the Sloth of women, he set himselfe to finde fault with the incommodity of her Chamber, and the illness of the bed whereon she lay. I was never better (said Amatonta) and if the Newes I heard last evening had not hinde­red my rest, I had been yet deepely in my first slumber. But not to keepe from you lon­ger, the resolution I have taken this night, I will tel you, that I should think my self guilty of an ingratitude the most base and Signall, [...]f I did not destinate all the time and Liberty which heaven hath vouchsafd to give meto the contentment of Muley Hassen, I therefore [though abruptly] take my leave of you, and converting into actions of thankes, those prayers and intreaties I intended to make you, I promise to preserve eternally the memo­ry of your courtesies, and that, if I ever arrive at any happinesse, I will impute it to the fe­licity of meeting with you; since in the same instant, I found the end of a part of my mis­fortunes. You should ascribe it to the Iustice of heaven [answer'd Polexander;] for after it had tried your constancy by a great many of crosses and persecutions, it was obliged to give that virtue the Crown it had deserved. Do not doubt Madam: but that you shall find [Page 179] Muley-Hassen againe, overcome the insensibility of the King your Father, and moving him with the recital of your disgraces, you shal find even in Tunis, the desired haven, where­in your vertue shal rest safe and free from al Tempests. Set on-wards then assoone as you can, since that your happinesse attends you on the coasts of Africa, and if you thinke it fit to honour me, in waiting on you thither, I promise to my selfe, that I shall be a witness of your good fortune. Ah Polexander (answered Ennoramita) I doubt not but that, if my felicity depended on you, it should be very neere and certaine. But when I thinke on the difficulties that yet oppose it, it is almost impossible for mee to hope for it. Tis aboue 2 yeares since Muley hath heard from me, and by consequence knows not whether I be a­live or dead. His affection hath certainely perswaded him that I am dead; and imagin to what dispaire that beliefe hath carried him. Alas, that poore Prince hath done violence to himselfe, not to survive me. Quite contrary (replied Polexander) he lives, and desires to reveng your death, hath certainely made him resolve to seeke after Nephizus, even to the end of the world, and not to attempt ought against himselfe till he hath found his Enemy. But (will you say) if by chance he heare of his death, he will give over to search & by consequence to live. No such matter Madam; he wil without doubt have heard from some one, how you are gotten from your prison and (may be) not knowing now where you are, he wanders through the Kingdome of the King your Father, to Learne what is become of you.

My first thoughts (said Ennoramita) would have me beleeve you, but when I advise with my reason, it tells me, that I doe but take pleasure in deceiving my selfe, to flatter me with these vaine hopes. Yet happen what may, I beleeve what I Desire, and promise to my selfe, that after I may, being so long time unfortunate, I shall be as long againe happy. Let us then (Madam) said Polexander, ship our selves with that good presage, and doubt no more of the successe of our enterprise. If you will do me the honour to be ad­vis'd by me, I would have you goe to Morocco. It is impossible that amongst the great number of Africans which are to meet at Abdelmelec's Turney, wee should not meet with some one that knowes Muley-Hassen. And who knowes whether that Prince, wea­ried with so many journeys, which he hath so unprofitably taken, should not come to Mo­vocco, to enquire after you from some of the Domesticks of the late Prince of Fez. Per­selida Amatonta, overcome by reasons so conformable to her wishes, consented to goe to Morocco; and understanding that the wind was fit for that crossing over, would not even give her selfe the time of a repast. And Polexander having given command that his great vessell of Warre should follow him, with those domesticall servants he could not misse­brought the Princesse of Tunis to the haven, and shipped himselfe with her. The first houres of their imbarquing were imployed in diverse imployments: Polexander much perplex'd for his taking a course so opposite to that which should conduct him to his in­tended happinesse, complayn'd [as he was wont] of the Injustice of Fortune, and [not without reason] reproach'd her, that there was not a day wherein she raisd him not up new hindrances and new Enemies. Ennoramita, on the contrary, made vowes to that imagina­ry Power, and to obtaine a happy successe to her designes, besought her to conduct Muley-Hassen to Morocco, or at least to preserve his life, and take out of his minde the distrust of her not being yet among the living. She her selfe granted her own request, and taking on her the place of fortune, assured her selfe that all her misfortunes were ended, that Muley-Hassen was alive, and that her Father, who had so long time forgotten her, repen­ted him of his obduracye, and sigh'd for her returne. This Princess having wearied her I­magination with too much troubling it, was inforc'd to make an end of her musings. she sent to know what our Heroe did; and that Message being an advertisement to the Prince to go see her, He came from his Cabinet, and to entertaine her with what was most wel­come to her I know not (sayd he) whence the beliefe comes to me, but I cannot let it slip out of my fantasie that you shall meet with Muley at Morocco; and that your con­tent shall begin in the very same place where your afflictions had their Originall. If that bliss betide me (replied Amatonta) I Will as much blesse Morocco, as I have heretofore curs'd it, and that to make it suffer some part of those miseries, which I have endured un­justly through the cruelty of her Prince, the fire of Heaven would consume it to ashes. But tis fittest that the memory of what is passed, should be blotted out, and to bury [Page 178] [...] [Page 179] [...] [Page 180] with Nephizus all causes that have made me hate him. Your resolution is worthy of your vertue (answered Polexander,) and when I heare you speake so generously, methinks I heare the magnanimous Benzaida to accuse the ingratefull Nephizus, and mildly to reproach him for his inconstancy and violated oathes. What a pleasure have you done me (said Ennoramita) to bring into my Remembrance that poore abused creature. Re­late to me (I beseech you) the story of her Lover, and why Nephizus made her come to Fez, Since he had forsaken her. It may be (said Polexander) that Nephizus never thought on her when he met her at Fez. That meeting was the last Exigent and misery which that incomparable Lady was brought to by her constancy. She could not live out of the sight of that disloyall Prince, and for many yeares of late, hath search'd him every where. But twas much to her mishap that she found him, for then hearing, from his owne mouth, how much he contemn'd her, she stabd her selfe, to be aveng'd on her own person for his disloyalty & ingratitude. That history Madam is no lesse strange then Tragicall, and you cannot better employ the remainder of this day, then to heare, with compassion, the miseries whereof you are the cause, though most innocently. Ennoramita was astonish'd at those last words of Polexander. Yet beleeving he had not spoken them without a cause, she besought him to tel her whereof she was guilty. You have made one most miserable (answered our Heroe,) and yet are guiltlesse of it. After he had made this reply, he came neer to a little bed on which the Princess was seated, and seating himselfe right against her; in this manner began the to-be-lamented adventures of Benzaida.

When you did me the Honour to intrust me with the secrecies of your life, I noted from the beginning of your narration that you were ignorant of the principall part of Nephi­zus adventures. I was divers times tempted to interrupt you, and to discover that which oblig'd him to keepe himselfe conceal'd so long time; to change so often places, and not to appeare in publick, but under the name of a stranger. But not certainely knowing whether he were dead, I thought it was fit to leave you in your error, and not give you new cau­ses to think worse of him. But now that I can put you out of trouble, and make you per­fectly know him without any wrong done; I will tell you his first legerities and make known those secrets which, with a great deale of reason, he hath alwaies hid from you. Even before your Infancy had triumphed over the heart of that Prince, he had subjected it to two personages farre different in humor and condition, yet both equally faire and alike abused. The first was called Izilia, the daughtur of an Arabian Knight, very rich and famous for the preserving (alone) the Province of Temesna, in the obedience of the King of Morocco. The other was the discreet and generous Benzaida, Princess of Grana­da. How! said Ennoramita (all amaz'd) Benzaida Daughter of the unfortunate King of Granada? The same (said Polexander,) yet I have oftentimes heard say (replied A­matonta) that shee was stolne away by a Spanish Captaine, before the taking of Grana­da, and since that time none knew what was become of her. The King her father (answe­red our Heroe) without doubt was the cause of that brute, to hide from his Subjects the shame of his family, but tis most certaine that she dyed at Fez, and that the ingratitude of Nephizus was the cause of it. If you love me, said Ennoramita (interrupting him) re­late to me that strange adventure, and without refraining for feare of renewing my anger, let me know (I beseech you) all things as they have hapned. Nephizus is sufficiently pu­nish'd by his death, though he had not been to me as he was; yet were I obliged to par­don the wrong he hath done me, & forget all my sufferings, out of that holy respect which the living should beare to the dead. If it be so, as I doubt not, Madam (said Polexander) you shall be absolutely satisfied.

Some few yeares past Abdelmelec, who is esteemed one of the Expertest Knights of all Africa, and the stoutest Juster amongst the Moores, published a Turney, to Maintaine a­gainst all Knights, both Christian and Mahometan, that Alcidiana is the fairest Princess of the world. I was at that Turnament, without any other designe, then to be a spectator of that galentry; for being without passion, I was likewise unprovided of a cause to quar­rell with Abdelmelec. I wish'd he had not given me more by his last challenge then he did by his first, I would then leave him a free possessor of his imaginary prosperities, and not goe trouble those fine dreames which his vanity brings on him waking. I came to Morocco the second day of the Turney, and knew well by divers courses, that tis not without reason [Page 181] that the Moors vaunt to have taught the Christians the art of giving a blow with a lance with a good grace, and mannage and sit a horse for justs and running with canes, In see­ing those excellent Knights, there kindled a desire in me of trying them, and to put in pra­ctise those lessons they had given me in France. This resolution was not so well taken, but that it might have bin very easie to have made me change it. But being by chance lodged with some Arabian Knights, I heard them speake such extraordinary things of the beauty and vertue of Alcidiana, that I had a great minde to see the Picture, which I did, on the Buckler of Abdelmelec, and in many other tables which that Prince had caus'd to be made, notwithstanding the Remonstrances of his Marabous, and the forbiddings of the Alcoran. Assoone as I had seen it, I fell straight into that Error which accompanies young men, and thought Abdelmelec was not so worthy, as my selfe, to serve so faire a Princess. The very next day I took armes against him, and maintain'd that twas to me only, for whom the Destinies had reserv'd the honour to serve Alcidiana. He accepted of me in the Combat, in the Quality of a Rival, and I, who demean'd my selfe in it with all the violence of a man of Sixteen, perpl exed him in such sort, that after divers courses, he was reduc'd to the necessity of giving me place. He was not only oblig'd to it by the lawes he had imposed on himselfe, but more, that he might renounce the title of Alcidiana's knight, he was compel'd to have recourse to the Ax & to the Cymiter; but had no better fate then with the first; and his misfortune was such, that I inforc'd him to demand his life of me, and yeeld to me that brave title of Alcidiana's Knight. And so by a meere Caprichio of For­tune[?], I became master of the feild, of the arms, of the pictures, & the Prize appointed for the victor. I retir'd with al these advantages, & ravish'd with the tables which I had so glori­ously won, return'd to my ships, with an intent to get me speedily to the Canaries. But my voyage was interrupted by the arrival of that faire Arabian, which I nam'd to you, Azilia: she came one Evening into my ship, and when she was alone with me shee cast her selfe at my feet, & her Eyes ful of teares besought me to commiserate abused innocence, & avenge her of a Traytor, Who under promise of Marriage had robd her of her Honour. I took her up assone as I could, and promising to assist her in so just a quarrell; If any thing may hinder mee (said I) tis the opinion I have that your Enemy is in such a place; where twil be hard to bring him into Question. Questionlesse he will laugh at my defiance, as he hath been merry with his faith, and will do you (may be) some new injuries, in Lieu of asking your pardon for the former.

I will hinder him well enough (answer'd the Lady) from using his former treasons: He shall feele what tis to be a faith-breaker. But noble Knight I beseech you to grant me two favors at once. The one is, that you will not deny me your sword and arme, and the other, that without informing your selfe by what way I intend to effect my re­venge, you will promise not to leave me till I be fully satisfied. I granted her all, and taking but one Squire with me, followed her to a house that was at the Gates of Fez. All our way, she gave not over intreating me to observe exactly what I had promis'd, and when I had overcome her Enemy, not faile to cut off her head.

Assoone as I was in my lodging, she renew'd her petitions, and receiving me with a great deale of civility, besought me to call my selfe Scander Stianack, and to take on me the Arabian habit. I agreed to her, and after I had been some dayes in that lodging, I knew it was the very same wherein Izilia's Lover was wont to meet her. Now one morning as I was walking in an Alley of the garden, I saw a man enter very richly clad. He came right to me, and drawing his Cymiter: tis at this time (said he) thou Man with heart and faith, that thou shall undergo the punishment thou hast long since de­served. When I give thee thy life, did not I command thee never to set foot within these doores, nor within this Kingdom? Yet I see thee return'd to perfect the assassinate which thou began'st the last year, and continue thy cruelties on a person that is deare to me▪ but I have prevented thee. Thou must dye Traitor, thou must dye. This discourse was suf­ficient to surprize me, yet, from the beginning, and judging that Izilia had kept her word with me, and deceiv'd her deceiver: I beleev'd it behov'd me to hold on the jeast and oblige this ill-advised Man, to give satisfaction to his beloved. I therefore drew my Cymiter, and answering him in the language he had us'd: I can no longer suffer (said I) the shame of mine house. Izilia through too much loving thee, hath wanted that love [Page 182] which she owes to her selfe, and kindred; and that blemish, wherewithall she hath fulli­ed her own honor and that of her race, must be wash'd away either by thy blood of Allyance.

The Man began to laugh at my threatnings, and using me as a Poltron, or infamous fel­low, let fly at me a furious blow with his Cymiter. I put it by, and presently gave him a­nother so weighty, that, but for the greatnesse and softnesse of his Turbant, I had with­out doubt accomplish'd, whether I would or no, the will of Izilia. We were in a large Alley and girt on each fide with a palisado of Orange and Pomegranat trees. No body appeard in the Garden but the wife and daughter of the Gardiner. Izilia was there, but she was hidden and expected, behind a palisado of Iesemins, what should be the successe of her deceite. Her Enemy, the while, beleeving that I was Scandar Stianack, promis'd himselfe to bring me quickly to the case of asking him once more for my life. I, who de­sired that his busines might be ended by kindnesse, solicited him to have regard to the an­cient fidelity of our house, to remember what he had promis'd to Izilia, and not exaspe­rate a whole illustrious and couragious family. What (answer'd me fiercely the abus'd man) thou yet dar'st to open thy mouth? Ah miserable fellow thou must perish, and in saying so, let drive a blow at me with al his strength. I avoided it happily, & entring upon a point with him sheath'd my Cymiter in his thigh: truly he witness'd that he had a good heart and skill, for he made extraordinary essayes to revenge the loss of his blood, and thinking it best to fight with more caution then he had done, preserv'd himselfe with so much Judgement that I was neere a quarter of an houre in bootelesly, beating the Ayre and the Iron. But the blood he lost by his wound taking from him, by little and little, his strength and agility, he did nothing but feebly ward. I might say to you without Vanity, that it had been very easie for me to have kild him in that case; but I would not make use of my advantage. On the contrary being desirous to oblige him to satisfie Izilia, ra­ther then to satisfie her my selfe, Iintreated him to acknowledge the Injustice of his cause by the ill Successe of his armes, not to contest any more against that which was resolv'd in heaven, and to preserve his life by keeping his word. Thou shalt dye murderer (cried he, instead of answering me) and with those words cast himselfe in upon me with all the rest of his strength. I stood firme for him, and his choler taking away his Judgement, he fel head long into mine armes; The blow he received, by his own fault, was great and dange­rous. He lost his courage by it, and after he had let fall his Cymiter, he himself fell too along by the palisado. As I came neere to helpe him, She that called her selfe the Gard­ners daughter; came running cross the palisado, and catching me fast by the arm cried out: Ah noble Knight take not away the life of the Prince of Fez. I started at that word, and turning to her, what? (said I) is this Knight a Prince? Tis Nephizus said she, and una­ble to speak further, her sobs and sighs made an end for her. I then perceived well how Izilia had deceived me as well as Nephizus. She presently appear'd in the Alley, & run­ning with al her speed was presently with me. When she saw Nephizus stretch'd on the grasse & al bloody: Make an end, make an end (said she) brave Knight! Tis not enough to have brought the perfidious Nephizus to the state he is, but you should give his head into my hands; you are engag'd to it and cannot deny it, if you are a man of your word. The fair Gardneresse, this while, held my arme, though there was no need, and turning on me her sweet and languishing Eyes; Beleeve not Izilia (said she) She will be very an­gry should you content her fury. Nephizus is very deare to her as disloyall as he is, and her satisfaction should be farre greater in seeing him penitent then beholding him dead, I have lesse interest then she, in the preservation of this Prince, since I have lesse hope of possessing him; yet I beg his life, and if my head be worthy to be the price of his, I offer it you with joy, & beseech you, by that exchange, to satisfie Izilias anger. Yes too-avenge­full Izilia [continued she] turning her to that Arabian, do what thou wilt on me, ex­ecute all thy sufferings on this Body, and make it a lamentable example of thy vengeance. Tear out my heart, steep thy hands in my blood, use me worse then thou wouldst handle Nephizus; I will endure all without complaining, so that Nephizus have his life I know he is disloyall: I know he takes not an oath but with intent to breake it. But he is still Nephizus. He is the Idol of my Soule, nay he is my very Soule. Izilia regarding that Heroicall Gardneresse with severity: and since when is it [said she] [Page 183] bold Zaida that you have lost your respect? What, you love Nephizus? Truly [unfortu­nate Slave] I shall well chastise your impudence. Leave (answered the faire Zaida) give over (if you please) these Injuries and threatnings. If I were as little Mistris of my passi­ons as you, I would reproach you, justly, farre more then you revile me. You are the cause of my sufferings, you have the good I injoy'd. In a word, Nephizus was mine before he eversaw you. Izilia became mad at those words &, had I not held her, she had without doubt, faln on Zaida. Whilst these two thus shew'd the contrariety of their humours Nephizus came to himselfe; and knowing Izilia, Well now mistrustful-one (said he) do'st, thou any more doubt of my love? Ah Traytor (repli'd Izilia) thy cunning is no more in season, thou must dye, and by thy death recover the Honour, which thy false oathes, and disloyall flatteries have rob'd me of: Thou art faln into the snare thou foresawest not. Dost thou not remember the promises thou mad'st me in going to Morocco? Am I that Amatonta for whom thou hast taken Armes against thy Brother? Thou might'st well thinke (disloyall) that Heaven would not alwaies be deafe to the cries of the Innocent; and to the end to chastise thee, it would permit, that after thou had'st deceived others, thou should'st deceive thine owne selfe. Know that he who thou see'st before thee, is not the miserable Scander-Stianack. Tis the victorious Knight, that carried away the Ho­nour of the Turney at Morocco. Thus would shee pay me, for the service I had done her.

Polexander said thus with a low voice, and retaking his First tone, went on thus Scarce had Nephizus knowne who he was, but that lifting up his head a little, (whilst the faire and desolate Gardneresse held her hand on his wound) since (said he) I dye not by the hand of the Traytor Stianack, I dye without any great deale of sorrow. But tell mee I beseech you, by what chance came you hither? The intreaty (said I) of Izilia brought me hither, and en­gaged me to Fight against you unknown. And this is enough of that for the present, tis fit now to look after the saving of your life, to the end that when you are in better case, then now you may know from Izilia, with what Dexterity she hath brought to pass this intricate businesse.

The faire Gardneresse then began speake, having newly torne her Vaile to binde up Nephizus wound. Turne likewise your Eyes on me (said shee) and know Benzaida. She would call her selfe extreamely unhappy, if Fate had not at last brought her to a place, where she might yeeld thee some new proofes of her affection. It may be thou hast lost the remembrance of that name, & thy new love suffers thee not to cal to minde thine old: or rather the disasters of our house, the calamities of Granada, and the deplorable condi­tion of her Princess makes thee contemn and abhor the Poore Benzaida. Open thine Eyes Nephizus; She that Speaks to thee in the habit of a slave, and a Gardneresse is that Princess not long since ador'd of so many people, and serv'd by so many Princes, who, for her too much Love to thee, forgot what shee ow'd to her Birth and her selfe.

Imagin (Madam) said Polexander [applying himsefe to Ennoramita] whether Izi­lias and my astonishment were not great, when in an instant we saw a Gardning maiden become a Princess; but withall [if you please] think in what a confusion Nephizus was when he found himselfe convinc'd of his faithlesnesse by two so irreprocahable witnesses. Yet instead of repenting him of his crimes, he preseverd; and not being able to justifie himselfe, beleev'd that in his great heart, he was bound to be obstinate in his offence, Vnworthily therefore thrusting away the deplorable Benzaida, and plucking aside her hand which was on his wound; Thou object [said he] more dismall to me, then the black Angels that wait for me at the entring into my grave, who hath made thee outlive thine Honour, and thy Fortune? Go miserable Exile, accomplish the Fate of thy Generation; Go finish thy li [...]e in the fetters of Ferdinand and Elizabeth; or as thy unspirited Fa­ther, go beg thy bread from doore to doore, and vainely implore the assistance of all the Princes of Africa.

Izilia hereat, taking the word for Benzaida who dissolv'd in teares; O abhominable renegado Musulma [cried she] dar'st thou thus out rage that innocency which thou hast made miserable? Tread'st thou under foot that which thou sometimes adored'st. Doe'st thou Triumph over the sad Fortune of thy equals? O Unfortunate that I am, what can I ex­pect [Page 184] from this Barbarian, since so faire a Princesse is so cruelly wronged? I must, I must e­ven instantly teare out his treacherous heart; and avenge Benzaida, since she is not hardy enough to avenge her self; And with that, put her self forward to execute her resolution▪ but I stop'd her, and so did Benzaida, who holding her hands, suffer (said she) Ne­phizus to go on with his revilings.

No, no Madam, [said I] tis not fit to give that liberty to Nephizus, in such a case as permits him not to thinke on what he sayes: Anger and paine have deprived him of reason. Think of bringing that againe, and afterwards we will take care for the rest. Pre­sently we called for some of Izilia's Servants, and in spight of his violences carried him into a chamber that was richly furnished.

Benzaida, who retain'd the quality of those Kings whence she was descended, of be­ing very skilfull in Physick and Chyrurgery, dress'd with her owne hands her unfaithfull Lover; and (as you shall heare) receiv'd for it a most lamentable recompence, Assoone as the applications had brought Nephizus from his fainting (wherein he had still been after they had brought him out of the Garden) Benzaida came to him, and with a sweet­nes able to mollifie a heart of Diamond, ask'd how he did, and intreated him to be pleas'd that she might serve him, at least, as a slave; since Fortune had depriv'd her of the meanes to serve him as a Princesse. The cruell Nephizus losing all sence of humanity, goe, infa­mous Princesse [said he] go and run after thy Mescenarez and Tyndarache. Thou hast chosen them to glut thy lascivious desires; go find them out, and never shew thy self to him that hates thee more then death. At those words of lascivious and infamous, Ben­zaida grew pale as if she had been ready to swoon: and almost assoone the fire flying into her face and flaming forth her eyes; Monster (cried she) more dreadfull then all those thy Affrica ever produc'd; Hangman, that inhumanly dashest a ponyard into my brest, is this the effect of thy promises and assurances which thou gavest me by Alalita, and Zamaella? O dismall Names to my remembrance! pernicious councellors, who are the causes of my afflictions as well as of my faults: Come and see that Nephizus which you represented to me so generous, and so worthy of the quality of a Prince. But I accuse you unjustly; you were the first deceived; and the for­sworn man, who would make use of you to throw me headlong where I am, first put out your eyes before he employed you in that office. Pardon me my reproaches, too-dear & too-credulous freinds. Tis thee alone Nephizus, which I ought to accuse for all my mis­fortunes and all my offences. But shew not so much scorne and aversion to me; I shall not be much longer troublesome to thee. Tis fit only that for my justification, I make thee know, that I am innocent and guiltlesse of those impurities which thy unclean mouth chargeth me withall, and that the execrable Mescenarez, and the too-faithfull Tinda­rache never shared in that which I only reserv'd for thee.

Heare then my Innocence; And should'st thou reject her testimony, thy vanquisher and thy Love, whom I beseech to receive my deposition, will publish for the discharge of my memory, the truthes I am about to tell them. Know then, and thou knowest it but too well, that wonne by the perswasions of Alalita and Zamaella, I lov'd thee, and without regard to my reputation which I hazarded, made thee absolute Master of the better part of my selfe. But alas! that joyes are but of a short continuance; and felicities are but [...]ll upheld that have no other foundation but the faith of such traytors as thee.

No sooner had I a Lover, but I found my selfe expos'd to the outrages of an Enemy; and (mark) that in the same time when I thought my self at the Port, an unexpected tem­pest shipwrack'd me. Thy unthought-of departure or rather thy pre-mediated flight o­verthrew al my designes and ruin'd al my hopes. I found that I was truly robd of al my former fortune, and that the Tyrants of Castile triumphed over Benzaida, even before they had set on the miserable Granada. Thy absence, after it had taken from me my hope and comfort, deprived me of my Judgement, and after my judgement, of the Love which I had alwayes borne to my parents, and subjects. I wish'd the loss both of the one and the other▪ Boabdilez himselfe (good heaven shall I speake it) became odious to me, and holding for Enemies all the Princes and Knights that served me, I discharg'd my choler on them, but particularly on the ambitious and rash Mescenarez.

He returned from the frontiers of Granada, a little after thou hadst forsaken me, and [Page 185] would have taken the boldnesse to entertaine me as othertimes he had done. But be­coming almost furious in seeing him, chid him for his impudence and rashnesse, and told him, that his impudence should have been long since corrected. But when he was gone, and I had permission to speak freely, what said I not against the providence of our great Prophet, against the starrs, against love, against fortune? in briefe, against all nature? And that; Traytor, to the end I might say nothing against thee. Yet I was quickly (in spight of me compeld to make thee a partner. The terrible object of thy treason, pre­sented it selfe before me, and I saw thee so horrible, that I could not look on thee with­out hatred, nor to hate, without reviling thee, as thou hadst deserved. It may augment thy rage to repeat them: But how excessive soever I make them by my words, they will never be equall to the miseries which thy ingratitude hath made me suffer. And now Traytor (cri'd I) thou hast left Africa, and cross'd the Sea, only to abuse an Innocent, and betray the facility of a maid, whose love and age made her capable of beleeving all. What do'st thou hope for, for thy treason? VVhat recompence is there reserv'd for so shamefull an action? Art thou so much degenerated from thy Ancestors? or is Africa, that was late the retreat of loyalty and truth, perverted, that thou canst not there keepe the place that thy birth gave thee, without making thy selfe famous by some extraordina­ry treason? But is it not some old hatred that obligeth thee to treate me so unworthily? Canst not indure that the Race of the Great Mansor should reign in some corner of the world? Art thou not content that thy predecessors drove him out of Africa? Art thou leagu'd with the Enemies of our Religion, to exterminate the Beleevers, and ravish from the Alcoran that power which is left it in Spaine? Assure thy selfe that I never took part in the quarrells of our houses. Assoone as I saw thee I gave thee my heart, and made no distinction between the Race of Marin, and that of Mansor. But I invented reasons to justifie thy disloyalty, which can have no other, but that thou art a man and an African, that is, that thou art doubly disloyall.

Would to Heaven that the ambition and avarice of our Fathers had been confined within the limits of their Provinces, and that their darings had not violated the sacred bounds, with which Nature had seperated their Regions. The Prince of Fez had not then ever heard speak of the Princesse of Granada, and the honor of that poore May­den should not be, as it is now, the sports of thy inconstancy, and subject of calumnies. But why stick I at these vaine considerations? Go Miscreant, triumph at thy pleasure over my heart, and reputation. Leave nothing undone to make the horrors of thy life without Example, and vaunt thee in the presence of thy Africans, who may be, are as simple as I, that 'twas for the love of them, thou falsifiedst thy faith to a Granadine La­dy, and neglected that which Spaine had in most adoration. Without doubt thy vanity brought the like discourse within thee. But what's that to me, if it were so? Is it not enough, that I too truely know that thou hast betraid me? Neither the great Maho­met, on whose Prophesies thou swor'st to be true to me, nor the feare which the black Angells should imprint in the Soules of the perfidious, nor my innocency, nor my love, nor in briefe, the resentment of my favours, have not been able to quell thy ill Nature, nor stay thy inconstancy.

Abominable follower of false Prophets, who are risen against the Great Prophet! Musulman unworthy of thy Circumcision, speak, and tell me who oblig'd thee to come under the vayle of allyance and friendship, to seduce me even in the Palace of the King my Father. Thou knowest, in thy conscience thou knowest, that I have contributed nothing at all to my misfortune.

The subtleties that my Sex imploy to make themselves Masters of thine, have been hitherto unknown to me, or at least hatefull. I would never yet do that affront to Na­ture, as to change the colour of my Haire, nor hide the blacknesse of my complexion un­der a strange white. My words and actions have not been lesse genuine, nor lesse naturall then my disastrous beauty; and I dare say, that I oftentimes complain'd to Heaven, that mine Eyes express'd so ill the feelings of my Soule. In short, the more I reflect on my selfe, the more my conscience assures me, that I am guilty of nothing but of loving thee. And if that crime deserv'd to be punished, surely thou oughtest not for it, either be the Judge or the Hang-man.

[Page 186] If my Love seem'd to thee injurious, if my little stock of beauty distasted thee, if the rudenesse of my wit were insupportable to thee; yet my simplicity should, at least, have wrought some pitty from thee; and my goodnesse was great enough to oblige thee, not to do me any wrong. VVhy hadst thou not rather said, this Maidens face hath some­hing dismall in it? My eyes cannot indure to look on her colour, yellow and black. She hath not wit; and the best things she speaks, are but very bad expressions; Yet shee is good, she loves me, and if I cannot affect her, yet must I pitty [...] [...]cence, and not deprive her of that quiet which her stupidity affoords her. Tis no [...] [...] that ill, which a man may do without feare of punishment; and if we exercise [...]ity in comforting any one that is miserable, we practise it a great deal more, in not permitting him to becom so. These good thoughts were not likely to possesse a Soul so wicked as thine. And if by chance, some good angel would with them have inspir'd thee, thy pernicious inclination would not have suffer'd to receiv them. Those that brought thee into the world, underwent the curse of Heaven, & thy parents should call thee rather the punishment of their offences, then the blessing of their marriage. Nor art thou come out of thy Country, but to free it of a Monster, which was become the cause of terror, and hatred to all. Truly the success­ors of the great Mansor have good cause to rejoyce, since the usurper of their Estates hath left so abominable a Race. Comfort thy selfe; Comfort thy self in thy disgraces.

The Tyrants who drove thy Ancestors out of Africa, have left such heires, that they wil soon have reason to envy thee. But what said I? No, No Nephizus, who shall be ever dear to me, I do not beleeve all this. The Love I bear my self, hinders me from mine own know­ledge, and makes me throw on thy inconstancy, that change whereof I onely am guilty. The audacious Mescenarez having dared to pretend to that, which Love reserv'd for thee alone, made thee jealous; and the little care I took to cure thee of it, compell'd thee (with­out doubt) to leave mee. It may be, thou yet wandrest through the Deserts of thy Numidia and askest from Love that he should give thee Iustice for the faith which I have violated. If it be so, O too credulous Prince, return where thou hast left me! Thou shalt know how I have suffer'd the wooings and rashnes of Mescenarez; and (since thy departure) whether he or his adherents have been able to get any advantage of the scorn and neglect thou hast made of me. Why sawest thou not me as I am now, discheveld, furious, an enemy to my self, or rather repentant, & desolate? Thou shouldst have seen me with my knees on the earth & tears in my Eyes imploring thy mercy, and confessing my self guilty, though I am nothing but a most miserable creature. But thou, most to be abhorred, neither carest what I do, not what I suffer. Thy lightnesse is satisfied in deceiving me, & (may be) it now glories in my being abused. Go, go whether thou wilt (the Horror of thy Sex & mine) I wil folow thee as a Fury, & making thee suffer a part of those torments which I have endured, I wil not per­mit thee to rejoyce (unpunish'd) of that death which thou hast given me. Benzaida stopping at that word, held her eyes some-while fix'd on the planching: at thelast she cast them on Nephizus, who, with Izilia and my selfe, hearkned to her without a word speaking; and changing her voice, tis enough ingratefull man (said she) tis enough to have reproved thee of thy misdeeds; I am in such an humor, that I am weary of complaining; I wil only tel how long I have sought thee, & by what chance I heard news of thee, Know therefore that some few dayes after thy departure, I found my self so extreamly desirous of re-seeing thee, that I could not possibly stay longer in Granada. I then forsook my Fathers Palace without the knowledge of any but Zamaella and my Nurse, and commanding them to take, with them, all that was necessary for me, stole away one night, without fearing the cruelty of the Spaniards who ransack'd our country, or the dangers of a long Journey; and swore never to sojourne in any place of the world till I had met with thee. With this reso­lution I took my way to the Sea-side, and as I was ready to imbarque my selfe in a vessell that was bound for Africa, the generous Prince (which thou shouldst never forget, as in­gratefull as thou art) Tindarache I say, being not to be put off neither by my cruelties nor by our common extravagances, presented himselfe to me, and casting him at my feet, besought me I would be pleas'd that he might accompany me. Benzaida (said he) I come not here to make you alter your resolution, nor to intreat you to acknowledge my per­severance. I come to you, because my fidelity commands it, and because I cannot re­solve to dye till I see you happy. These offers much troubled me, yet knowing of a long [Page 187] time, Tindaraches respect, and doubting that I might have need of his assistance, I tooke him into my company. But for feare he should not observe all that he promis'd me, I receive you (said I) on condition that you take no heed neither to my actions nor my words, and look not on me but as on a person that knowes no more what she doth.

That young Prince full of love and pitty, was so much mov'd at my speech, that the teares came into his eyes. He looked upon me, he gaz'd on heaven, and being able to endure his fortune without murmuring, What ever thou be (cried he) O Provi­dence! that watchest for the generall good of the world, what have I done to thee, that I should be the party belov'd of Benzaida.

After he had ended this exclamation, he turn'd himselfe towards me, and ask'd me whither I would go. Tis no matter where [I replied] provided it be there where I may find the Prince of Fez. Provided that it be where you may find the Prince of Fez? re­plied Tindarache! O Too happy Prince if thou knew'st thy happinesse. Let s go, Let's go [Madam] after that ingratefull Man; Let us search for that enemy of his owne good; Let's compell him to accept the good Fortune he refuseth, and if there want but my life to make him true, I am content that you bestow it on your passion. The love and Noble­nesse of that Prince touch'd me so to the heart, that I was forc'd to impose him silence, for feare least his speech should make me too sensible. He was no lesse obedient to me in that, then in all other things; and I beleeve that wee cros'd the seas and a part of Fez and Morocco, without any talke aboue five or six times. I found thee not in either of the Kingdomes, but I understood that the love thou barest to Ennoramita, Princess of Tunis, had made thee undertake a voyage on the Ocean. I therefore left Morocco, and went to imbarque my selfe at Azafi, to see if I could meet thee at Sea, or at least to passe the streights, and finde thee at Tunis: but being ingaged to stay at Azafi, to attend a Portugall ship, I was [I know not by what odnesse of Fortune] seen and desired by four Castilian Knights: who seem'd to be very Inquisitive of mee? And not contented to have entertain'd me in their Inne, shipped themselves with me, and did what they could, to win me not to forsake their conversation. I avoyded it yet as often as it was pos­sible, and heaven, hearing my prayers, Stir'd up so furious a Tempest, that it gave the Spanyards farr other thoughts then those of pratling to me. After our ship had bin three dayes and three nights beaten with the Tempest, it came to shyde on to an Island, which is now famous by the stately Tombe of a Prince called Almansor. There wee went on shore to expect fairer weather, and give time to the Mariners to trym their ship; and I that would avoid the sight of the four troublesome Spanyards, I caus'd me to be conduct­ed by Tindarache to a village which is not farre from the sea. But I could not keep me from the curiosity of those mad men. They followed mee, and stopping me between a wood and a many rocks, told me that they were come to serve me, and not to offer me any outrage. Wee are [said they] four Cozens, who are equally in love with you, and because our affection is too violent to endure any companions, we are resolved to fight in your presence, to give an end to the cause of our jealousy, and leave you the prize for the vanquisher. Though my minde was busied about nothing but the remembrance of thy in­gratitude, perjur'd Nephizus, yet the extravagancy of those men was capable to stay my musings. I gave Heaven thankes that it made me see a folly, which was not lesse extra­ordinary then mine; and told those Lovers, that I found their loves so unreasonable, and the person, who was the cause of it, so unworthy the fortune they would run for her, that I ad­vis'd them to continue freinds, and give over an enterprize that could be no other then, very unfortunate to them. That must not stay us, if you please (they replyed) since, of four that we be, there will be no mishap but for him that shall survive his companions; and in ending these words they threw off their doublets, and came to meet one another with their Swords drawn. The Combat was very short, though very bloody, and indeed it could not be otherwise, since 'twas done by the advice and guidance of so murderous and furi­ous a passion as that of love. Three presently fell down dead, and the fourth (his sword red with the blood of his Cozens) came and cast himselfe at my feet to aske me the prize for his victory. Tindarache, till then had shewed so little feeling, that not being able to doubt of his courage after the proofes that he had given me of it, I thought that by the re­membrance of thy false promises, I was not to give any more trust to his faire words. [Page 188] But when he saw the Spanyard at my feet: Knight (said he to him) you make too much hast and having not yet done but the halfe of your businesse, you stick not to aske the salary for the whole. Doe you think that I am lesse Jealous, or not so cleare-sighted as you Spanyards? Truely (answered the other) you surprize me. Your leane and disfigur'd countenance, your reeling, and weak walking, and the feeblenesse of your armes, made me beleeve that you rather look'd for some Physitian to cure you, then for an Enemy to cut off some one or two of those dayes that were yet to live. Notwithstanding since you beseech me for it, in so good a manner, I am pleased not to have you to languish any longer, but to kill you a little more speedily then your melancholy would have done. Tindarache in lieu of replying to that arrogant answer, did but smile, and taking his Sword in his hand, told his enemy, that he besought him to make an end of his Cure. The other, whose new victory had made him more proud then he was by birth, went on very resolutely to Tindarache. The Prince met him as bravely, and at first gave him such a dangerous wound, that he forc'd him to put one knee to the ground. The Spa­nyard seeing his strength go away with his blood, furiously rose up to avenge himselfe of his vanquisher; but he, who knew how much his preservation imported me, recoyl'd still in warding, & in that manner let him lose the rest of the strength & blood that was left him. Atlast that unfortunate Castilian fel backwards & not being able to speak by reason of the blood which came out of his mouth, he took a handkercher, which he steep'd in his wound, and after he had kissed it threw it towards me. Tindarache who was not wounded came to me, and seeing me affrighted: Away Madam said he, let's away from this dismall Island, wherein▪ Love hath been the cause of shedding so much blood, and let us go find out the happy Prince of Fez.

I took the advice of that generous Lover; and after I had given order to the Inhabi­tants of that Bourg (whereinto I was retyr'd) for the buriall of the Spanyards; I re-im­bark'd my selfe in the same Ship which had brought me thither. The violence of the tempest had put the Portugull Ship to that necessity, that they were forc'd to return to Azafie, and there I left them and came back to Morocco, where I understood that thou wert at Fez. Presently I put on, with my little and faithfull company; but passing through the solitudes of Mount Atlas, a Lyon rush'd on my poore Nurse, and carryed her away, Tindarache not being able to rescue her. The losse of one who had been al­wayes deare to me, so transported me, that I would have expos'd my selfe even to the fury of the Lyon. But the faithfull Tindarache, who had alwayes his eyes on me, tooke notice of my action, and doubting of what I had resolved: Madam (said he) what mean you to do? Do you not remember now, that there is nought in the world capable to move you but the Prince of Fez? I must confesse it to thy glory, and my confusion, (per­jur'd man) that thy Name took away my griefe, and I often accused my selfe for loving any other then thee. Some few dayes after I came out of those Deserts, and entred into thy Kingdome. Consider what kind of passion mine alwayes hath been, since, at the on­ly name of Fez and the sole looking on thy Territories, I was so transported, that my body, too violently agitated by my mind, was compell'd to give way. I fell sick of a ma­lady, which at first they thought deadly. Shall I relate to thee (insensible man) the care which Tindarache had of me, the paines he undertook, and the despaire whereunto the obstinacy of my ill, oftentimes threw him? No, I will tell thee nothing of it. That soule intirely loving, and wholely pure, which now enjoyes the eternall felicities, will not have me to prophane his mysteries. Thou shalt only know that I overcame my Fever by the desire I had to see thee. Assone as I could leave my Chamber, I went from the place where I had faln sick; and endeavour'd by little Journeys to make an end of my unfor­tunate voyage. And I had almost cross'd the large champians of Temesna, when I know not what strange affrightment seiz'd on me. I turn'd me towards Tindarache, and looking round about me, as if I had been pursued: Tindarache (said I without knowing why) we must shortly part. Madam (replied he) I do no lesse then you wish for that happy moment, that must render you to the dearest part of your selfe. But if my love could consent to it, I would wish to die, ere I were compeld to that cruell ne­cessity to lose, with that content I receiv'd by your presence, the remaynder of an imagi­nary hope which yet flatters my passion. Yet happen what the Destinies please, Tinda­rache [Page 189] will without feare see fall that blow which must deprive him of his life. Those words made me beleeve that that faithfull Lover fear'd to meet with thee, not that he thought thee more valiant then himselfe, but because he knew by my extravagancies, that thou wert better belov'd then He. I would willingly at the same time, have free'd him of that feare, and stopping in the mid-way to speak more earnestly: Tindarache (said I) if you beleeve that I leade you where I am to find my greatest Enemy, to give you that discontent to see him possest of that which you think you have deserved, and to make him triumph on your disgraces: you neither know my intention nor what is the gene­rousnesse of the infortunate Benzaida. I am not of those light mindes which may be twice deceived by apparances. I have committed one fault, but my Spirit and the assistance of our great Prophet, wil hinder me from acting a second. Let us go there­fore (Prince as unfortunate as my selfe) let us go find the Traytor, At whose very name my Sense and Reason re-begin their old enmityes. But lets find him quickly, to the end that one same houre, and one same action may make us all Three equally contented.

I had scarce ended the words, when Zamaella began to cry out, that I should take heed to my selfe. I turned my head, and saw ten or twelve men on horsbacke, who with their swords drawn, [...]ere ready to fall on Tindarache. Assoon as they had beset him, one of them came to me, and presenting me the point of his Sword: Is it so (said he) infamous and vagabond Izilia, that to satiate the Lubricities of a Tyrant, thou prostitutest thine honour, and reputation of thy race? I answer'd nothing to those revilings, because I thought they were not addressed to me. In the meane time he that had spoken, commanded two Negroes, that were of his company, to bind my hands, & guard me well on payne of their lives, & presently hasten'd to his com­plices that were cowardly murdering of Tindarache. I did all I could to withhold him and to make him know that he was mistaken; but his choler having blinded him, he perceived not the fault he had done, till after, when it was irreparable. Assoone as, Tindarache was faln [...]to the Earth, he that had taken me, alighted from his horse to know him better, but not finding him whom he look'd for, O Heaven! (cried he, to his [...]mpanions) how blockishly are we mistaken. He came then presently to me, and looking long on me, Unfortunate Scander Stianack (said he striking his brest) what hast thou done, and how wilt thou justifie thy mistake, and ending those words, he took me by the hand, and taking off my bonds, what service can I do you (said he) that may be sufficent to expiate the wrong which I have Igno­rantly done you? Exact from me what satisfaction you please (Madam;) you will see by the content I shall have in it, that my intent was not to offend you. I would have answerd him when I heard thevoyce of Tindarache sounding in mine ears, which made me run to the place where he lay. I found him all weltring in blood, and ex­treamly wounded in divers places. Assoone as he saw me he strove to arise, but not being able, he turn'd his dying Eyes on me, and kissing the hand which I had given him Madam said he to me, I cannot perform what I promis'd you; but you see tis not my fault. Give me an assurance that you are satisfied, and I shall go contentedly out of the world. Those words were so peircing to me, that forcing my weaknesse, and forgetting that I was look'd on by men who might conceive an ill opinion of my re­sentments, I rais'd up the head of that to-be-lamented Prince, and knowing not what I said, so much was I troubled, besought him not to forsake me and leave me all alone in an Enemies Country, Tis that which makes me go to my grave with sorrow (replied he with a low voice,) but the vowes and prayers I make for the re­tarding of my death, are vaine and to no purpose; spight of me I must leave you; and I perceive that I have no longer time to live, then sufficeth to bid you farewell. Fare­well then Benzaida; remember [if you please] Tindarache, though he deserve it not; and lose not the memory of him in the contentments which you hope for by the sight of the too much—He could not finish what he had begun, for death preven­ted him. I will not tell thee now the greifes, the perplexities and despair which have been my constant companions ever since that Tragicall accident. Content thy selfe in knowing, that if I could have been beleived, the Murderers of Tindarache had [Page 190] not spar'd me. But their afflicted Commander returning to me more afflicted then at first; How unfortunate am I (said he,) I cannot avenge my selfe on those that have o [...]ag'd me, and I kill those that never wrong'd me. I seeke the Trayterous Prince of Fez, and when I thought I had met him, ' [...]was then I found that he had escaped from me. But I shall do better to tell you the cause of the accident which is beti­ded to me as [...] as to you; and if you think me not worthy pardon when you under­stand through what Error I have offended you, I submit my selfe to that punish­ment which your just sorrow shall impose upon me, I have a Sister faire as you, and which resembles you in stature, co [...]ntenance and action; She is called I [...]ia. My Fa­ther kept her as a thing not only precious, but weak, and therefore was not seen, nor come to but by himself and I. Yet could not we be so carefull, but that the infamous Nephizus [so is the perfidious Prince of Fez called] discover'd her. Presently he suffer'd himselfe to be transported by his usuall lubricity, and to satiate it, resolved to imploy al his strength and cunning. You know, it may be, what charmes and allure­ment accompany the quality of that Prince, and how easie young Maidens, cheifly when they are a little vaine and proud, are to be caught in that kinde of trap. Izilia flatter'd with the hope of being a Soveraign, beguil'd the watchfullness of her kee­pers, and never thinking of what might come after, gave her selfe absolutely over to the discretion of her Enemy. The Tyrant having quench'd his brutish hea [...], repet­ted him of hi [...] being intangled with Izilia, & presently bethought him how he might be rid of her. But fearing [...]east his crime might come to my Fathers or to my hearing, and that we might ingage him to give us satisfaction, he resolv'd to continue his treason; and to that end flatter'd still Izilia, promis'd againe to marry her, and in­treated her to put off the consummation of it to another time. Izilia had patience se­ven or eight moneths: but having an excellent heart and wit, she perceived at last that she was betrayed, and instantly bethought her of revenge. She therefore dis­covered to me how she had been abus'd, and intreated my helpe for a remedy with­out giving notice of it to my Father.

I thereupon undertook her quarrell, but you may imagine with what hope of suc­cesse. I was alone, and had to do with a world: I was a Subject and was to contest with my my Soveraigne. Yet for all this, I gave not over to attempt my revenge; and my plot failing me, I was faine to forsake my Country, and my house; and to fly for refuge into the solitudes of Atlas. I was not able to live there long, but getting the love of those Ar [...]bians you see, I have wrought them to undertake with me one desperate attempt. We came all with one same resolution; but arriving at my home, I understood that Izilia was become more foole and wanton then ever, and that she was fled away with a woman to run after the perjur'd Nephizus. I enquir'd whither they thought she might be gone, and I was told, to Morocco. Thither I came without making my selfe known, the very day that Abdelmelec's Turney ended.

I went to the Pallace to find out mine Enemy, and accosting one of the Kings Guard, I learn't that all the Court was in an uproare, because the night before Ne­phizus had stolne away a faire Stranger, and was gone with her accompanied only with two or three slaves. I presently beleiv'd that 'twas Izilia whom he had met with at Morocco; and to punish them both, I parted from that City, and with my Arabi­ans took the way of Fez. Some dayes past I came thither, and understanding that Nephizus was not yet return'd, I retyr'd into a House not farre from hence, and e­ver since have beaten up and downe the country, and day and night have set Senti­nells on the way of Morocco, to be advertiz'd of Nephizus returne. He that was in Guard last night, [without doubt] discovering you, came to give me intelligence, that Nephizus and Izilia were coming. I got to horseback with my companions, and seeing you a farre off, took you for Izilia. This Error hath made me guilty of the wrong which I have done. I am infinitely sorry for it, and beseech you even with teares, to pardon me the death either of your Brother or Husband. If you can re­solve on this favour and endure my presence, I shall testifie by my services, that J have as much love for vertue as J have Enmity for vice. Benzaida, staying at these [Page 191] words, as to take breath, saw that Nephizus lay insensible to all this narration. Yet she went on: and addressing her to that cruell Prince: doe but reflect (said she) on all that I have related to thee, and thou shalt see that thy perjury is the cause of all those ills which have betided me; not only in mine owne person but in that of my freinds. Yet I reproach thee not for them, for after thy last injuries, those deserved not to be thought on. Hearken only to the remainder of my sufferings, and afterward I will leave thee in peace. When Scander Stianack had made me a recitall of thy new disloyalties, and that I had a long time bewaild the loss of Tindarache, I resolv'd to accept the offers he had made me: and, not to erre any more, told him; that since he had depriv'd me of him that was to me instead of a Father, Brother, & a Husband, I was wel pleas'd to have recourse to none other then to him that had made me so unfortunate; and that he would conduct me to some place, where I might live unknown, and have my Honour in safety, He pro­mis'd me to take care of me as of his Sister; and assoone as he had caus'd Tindarache to be interr'd, brought me towards this lodging. Assoon as I came hither, I entreated him to let me live at mine own wll; and obtaining that favour, I tooke on me the habit you now see me in, Zamaella clad her so too, and for these ten or twelve dayes, we have pas­sed among the domestiques here for two Christian slaves, which the Father of Izilia had bought. The next day after our arrivall, Scander Stianack came to see mee; and seeing by his action that he was very much troubled: Faire creature (said he) I am enforc'd to leave you. The ancient Enemies of our family have besieg'd my father in a House which he hath in the Province of Temesna, and I must needs goe to assist him: I cannot be back againe in lesse then two moneths, for I must have some time to get all My freinds toge­ther, and that they may be in case to dis-engage my Father. After he had sayd thus much, he call'd for his Gardner and his Wife, and commanded them, that in publique, they should use me as the other slaves, but in private to serve me as Izilia her self. Hereupon he tooke leave of me, and since that time I never heard of him. This true recitall of my mis­fortunes (without doubt) will not be sufficient to take from thee the opinion which thy owne crimes have laid on mine innocence. But if this confession serve me for nothing with thee, yet I am well assur'd 'twill stand, for mine avayle, with all persons of Honour and virtue. Yet beleive not, miserable Nephizus, that the seeing of thee convicted of so many falshoods and perjuries, I have, as thou hast done, chang'd my affection and desire: No, No, I am still the same Benzaida; Such as thou as known me at Granada, such am I at Fez. I love thee, because I have been capable to love thee. But since my love is a fault which hath made thee commit many others, I will beare the punishment of all those of­fences; and in revenging my selfe on my selfe, avenge all the Innocents which thou hast abused after me. In finishing these words, Benzaida turned on t'other side, and calling Zamaella who had follow'd her, made a signe that she should come neer her, & when she was come: Have a care (said she) that when I can no more think on my selfe, there be­tide nothing that be mis-becoming the pudicity of Benzaida. She had no sooner ended these words, but she drew out a Ponyard which she had under her robe, and with it strook her selfe a blow to the heart. She stagger'd presently, and leaning on Zamaella, had care, even in dying, to preserve that honesty of which the excess of love could never make her neglectfull. Izilia first of all saw the Ponyard, and ran to stop Benzaida, but neither she nor I were quick enough. All that I could doe was to clap a handkercheif on the wound of that Generous Princesse. She gently thrust away my hand; and her beauty being invi­sibly increased in this last moment of her life, she appear'd to me so farre unworthy of the usage she had received from Nephizus, that to revenge her I was at the point to per­form what I had promis'd to Izilia. But that African Lady, almost plucking Nephizus out of his bed by force of tormenting him, See Tyrant (cryed she in his Eares) see what thou hast done! O Barbarous and inhumane wretch, canst thou live and see Benzaida drown'd [...]n her blood? It behooves, nay tis most fit that I should execute, my selfe, what thy van­iquisher[?] will not grant me; and with that she ran to Benzaidas Ponyard, and questionles had plunged it in Nephizus brest, had I not held her. I got her out of the Chamber, and [...]treating her for recompence of the service I had done her, to enterprize nothing against [...]hat Prince: J saw well, that if J joined not my force with prayers, it would be impossible for me to hinder some new mischance. Yet the night following there fell out a very [Page 192] bloody one. For the House, wherein we were, was broken open by strangers, and for all the resistance I could make, they tooke away Izilia and Nephizus, and left me for dead in the Court of that fatall Lodging. Tis needlesse to tell you by what chance I was brought thence, for those particularities will serve nothing to the clearing of your doubts. Polexander having thus related the History of Nephizus perjuries; Ennoramita after she had shewed her astonishment by divers actions spake thus: I confesse (said she) that I have much adoe to imagine that one man hath, been capable of so many wickednesses. Heaven is Heaven (added she after the manner of the Mahometans) and its Justice that never sleepeth, breakes out fearfully when its patience is exhausted. At so holy and profi­table a thought, Polexander bad the Princesse goodnight, and commanding his Pilot to make use of all favour of the Wind, his Vessell made so good way in two dayes and two nights, that he came neere to the coasts of Morocco. The wind fail'd them under the For­tress of Guargetssem, & compel'd Polexander & his Company to make the rest of their Journey by Land. Ennoramita being very much disguised and her Women too, tooke Camels, and by little Journeys, came with their conductor to that famous City which the follies of the Old Hely, and the Tyrannies of his ridiculous Sons, had made more deso­late then an Army of Christians would have done.

Ten dayes had the Justs been open when this Troope arrived, and a great number of Knights had appeared with severall Successes, and all had been constrained by the Lawes of the Turney, to declare publikely who they were, & who were their Mistresses. Polexan­der, who came expressely to chastise the indiscretion of Abdelmelec, and avenge Alci­diana of that Princes impudence, had a great minde to put himselfe into the lifts, the next day after his arrivall. But Ennoramita intreating him to give her one intire day, as well to see the Combat as to be informed of the Combatants, he put it off to the second day; and went, with her, to take up their Lodging in one of the great Innes, wherein strangers had all kind of freedome. Ennoramita was no sooner lodged, but she sent one of her Slaves to enquire, through all the Innes, if there were not any Knights of Tunis. But for all the Slaves diligence in that perquisition, he returned to his Mistris without learning a­ny thing that might content her. She passed all the night in much unrest, and assoone as 'twas day, clad her selfe in the habit of the Lady of Morocco, that she might be the lesse noted. A little before noone she went to the place of the Justs, and taking her seat in the place appointed for Spectators of quality and cheifly for Ladies, she heard the sound of many Trumpets. The desire to find Muley-Hassen, turning her all into eyes, there was not a man entred, were he on Horseback or otherwise, that she surveyed not from head to foote. The trumpets which she lately heard, came into the field. They were clad like so many Fames and served as Vant-Courtiers to a Knight clad according to the ancient Greekes. He came to the place prepar'd for the recitalls, and all being silent, he spake thus.

Tis superfluous that I tell my Name, since so many Fames publish who I am; yet not to interrupt that Order which many valiant men observed, you shall understand that my Name is Sidy-Bu-Median, famous by the reputation of the great Saint from whom I am descended. And more famous yet by the affection which the Princesse of Telensin hath always born me in spight of the cruelties of that Tyrant who possesseth her estate. Those who have come in here before me, have appear'd to give a proof of their love and valour and I am come to publish the virtue and beauty of a great Queen, and to oblige all those in this Assembly, who are men of courage, to have pity of my mis-fortune and to employ their valour for the deliverance of my Princesse. Every one being moved with this pre­face, gave double attention, and promising to himselfe to heare something that should be strange, made known to Median that they had a great minde to heare him. He thereupon (after he had discovered the Picture of the Princesse of Telinfin that was painted on his Buckler) went on thus. There is none in this Assembly who knowes not the greatnesse of the Kingdome of Telensin, and who, in some way, hath not heard that the Kings of it have made themselves redoubtable to their Enemies. He which now raigns What said I? He which raigns, No he raignes not, for the fury of his Subjects excited by the Sorceries and predictions of a false Prophet come out of Tefesca hath loaden him with Irons, and dispoyld him of his Government. The poore Habdulac-Numen (so [Page 197] is that Prince called) hath one only daughter; of whom I dare say nothing for feare I should not speake as I ought, This Angell of Light is called Arzila, and should not have been put amongst the List of mortall things, if the affection which she beares to the least of men had not cut off somewhat from the opinion they had conceived of her Divi­nity. I was that Happy man, though an unworthy object for Arzila's affection. I re­ceived that favour with the respect that I ought, and not being able to deserve her by any service, I never vaunted of any thing but that I could not merit her. I was even on the point to be elevated unto heaven, when a Divell gotten loose from hell (I meane the false Prophet of whom I have spoken) ruined all my hopes, and buryed my felici­ties under the ruines of the Royall Progeny. Habat Elmely (so was that cruell Tyrants Name) covering his ambition and Pride with a falle and pernicious piety, entred into Telensin with a great company of his Sectaries; and after he had there preach'd his He­resies, gain'd the Brutish and inconstant people, and made them rise in armes against heir Soveraign. I Joyn'd my selfe with those that were loyall, and did my best endeavour. tBut after divers defeates, and being left for dead in the feild of the last Battle, Abdulac V­men was taken prisoner, loaden with Irons, and thrown into a horrible Dungeon. The false Prophet presently took on him the Royall Authority, and since that he had acused to be published at the beginning of the War, that he was come from Heaven and the great Prophet Mahomet, to teach the truth to the Telensiens, and, by the marriage of himselfe with Arzila, beget them Kings that should chase all the Christians out of A­frica; he commanded that in what place soever that Princesse should be retyr'd, they should bring her to him, and declar'd, that not only he, which conceal'd her should be impal'd alive, but also, that if she came not in within foure dayes, Abdulac Vmen should be flead alive in the great place of Telensin. At this last newes Arzila, (who passionately lov'd her Father) left the place where she was in safety, thought it good (in appearance) not to dis-allow of the false prophets designe; came to him to his Palace, only with two Women, and casting her at his feet: Behold (said she) the Maiden (for whom thou hast testified hitherto so much respect and affection) reduc'd to submssions and prayers! If the desire to raigne, which hath made thee forget the Loyalty thou owest my Father, hath not made thee lose the Love thou didst beare the Daughter, repent thy selfe for having displeased him, and setting a period to his mis-fortune, give him cause to acknowledg so great a service. I present not my selfe before thee to make use of that absolute power which my birth and thy affection gives me over thy will; but I beseech thee as a Subject, and submit to all thou shalt ordeine me; Provided thou restore to me the King my Fa­ther. Ought not the false Emely to have beene moved by the prayers and tears of that faire Princesse? He was not a jot, though he feigned to be so. His infamous brutality see­ing it self at the point to be satiated, made him dissemble his hatred. and advis'd him to promise Arzila all that she requested to the end, that she might the more willingly sa­crifice her self for the safety of her Father. He then led her into a place where she could be heard by no body; and taking her by the hand said, I keep not Abdulac prisoner, not have I taken on me the title of a King, but to oblige you not to be cruell to me. Have pi­ty of one that is unfortunate. succour a man desperate, pay with some small favour so many yeares services which I have given you (though my discretion hath hindered me from making it appeare to you) and dispose, as you please, of the Crown of Telensin: I restore it you with your Father, and renounce for ever all other glory but that of enjoy­ing you. He added many other immodest and lascivious words to those, and seeing him­selfe sweetly refused, began to be moved, and told the Chast Arzila that she should not hope to see againe her Father on the throne, if she did not grant him what he had so ma­ny yeares search'd for. The Princesse, hiding her just displeasure, threw her selfe again at the feet of that abhominable wretch, in Lieu of answering him; and melting into teares My Lord (said she) consider what tis you require of me; thinke who I am, and do notmake me beleeve that thou hast ever lov'd me. The Tyrant laugh'd at the Princesse virtue, and raising her from the ground, you [...] me invane (said he) if you havenot a will to fulfill my desire I have a long time observ [...] all the Lawes which Love and respect imposed on me; You must now receive mine, or we must be equally miserable. At those words Ar [...]ila be [Page 194] came red as fire, and stepping a pace or two backwards; My honour then (said she) is the only ransome thou desirest for thy Princes liberty? I ever beleev'd that thou wert an in famous fellow and a Traytor: But expect not that the feare of death, nor the hope of reseeing Abdulac in the throne, shall ever bring me to lose that which I love more then the Crown or my life. The King my Father would disavow me for his Daughter; and would be his owne executioner, should he know I had reestablish'd him by so sordid, so shamefull, and execrable a treaty. The false Prophet, enraged to see himselfe so farre from his purpose, caus'd Arzila to be taken away by some of his guard, brought her into the Dungeon where her father lay; and to affright her more, and by other wayes, then by threatnings, commanded her Fathers Nose to be cut off: At which horrible spectacle, Arzila tore her haire, cast her selfe into her Fathers Armes, be-bloodied her face against his; and after some lamentations, able to make the heart of a common Executioner to re­lent, besought the King to give her over for the price of his liberty. My body (said she) is yours; give it then to that Monster, and make use of that power which Nature hath gi­ven you; and, with that, she againe imbrac'd her Father, and besmear'd her face all over with his blood. When she thought that she was frightfull enough by that soyling, shee turn'd her to the Tyrant, and extending her Armes and hands to him: Thou most infa­mous and lustfull Goate (cried she) why dost thou not exact presently from this Prince, whilst he suffers under thy afflicting torments, that which thy lust hath so long wished for?

Abdulac made his Daughter to be silent, by the most pitifull remonstrances, that so tragicall an occasion could put into the mouth of a Father. But why should I stand so much on the misfortunes of that incomparable payr? The good King would never con­sent to the dishonour of his Daughter; and seeing so great constancy in so weak a perso­nage, indur'd, with a great deale of patience, his ignominious and cruell usage. The inhu­mane Elmely, grown desperate by the virtue of those two truly-royall minds, caus'd Ar­zila to be put into a Dungeon apart from her Father, and so went away, after he had as­sur'd them that there should not passe a day, wherein they should not feel how far his choler would extend. It is (brave Knights) five moneths now, since these honor'd perso­nages have suffer'd an infinite sort of indignities in these Dungeons, wherein they are bu­ried alive. Ever since I have been able to carry Armes, I have try'd divers wayes to free the Father and Daughter, but none hath succeeded; and if by your assistance, I see me not quickly in case to pluck the Tyrant from that Throne, who is no way redoubtable but in words, I here make a vow, never to review my desolate Country. Abdelmelec, (who was present at this relation) perceiving that Sidy-Bu-Median had no more to say, fixing his Eyes a while on the portraict of Arzila, began to speak thus: I see well (said he to the unfortunate Knight) that you are come hither to make friends, and not to engage your selfe in new enmities. As for my selfe, who alone should have some cause to refuse the succour you come for, since you are come with an intent to fight with me: yet I make known to you, that I give my full resentment to the consideration of Arzila, and will imploy, for her deliverance and the King her Father, all the power that I have in the Kingdomes of Fez and Morocco.

Above five hundred Knights, Christians and Mahometans, presently after, offered themselves to Sidy, and their offers were prosecuted with so many actions of valour, that the very yeare of the Turney the false Prophet was burn'd alive in Telensin, Abdulac Vmen reestablished in his Throne, and the vertuous Arzila married to the constant Sidy-Bu-Median. Assoone as he had given Abdelmelec thanks for the assistance he promi­sed, he besought him to dispence with his Iusting against him; for (said he) I cannot with­out an extravagancy contest for valour, with that man whose succour I am come to im­plore. After he had made this just excuse to the Prince of Morocco, he retyr'd; and left the field free to a Portugall Knight, the Son of the Governour of Larache, who on the faith of Abdelmelec's Chartells, fear'd not to forsake the Banks of Zila, and to put him­selfe into the hands of his Enemies. He came to the place appointed for Speech, and said boldly that he was a Christian in Religion, a Portingall by birth, a sworne Enemy to the Moores by duty and inclination; and Son of him that had taken from them the towne of Larache. But if all these things (said he) give you cause to look on me with an Eye of [Page 195] of hatred, that which I have yet to tell you will oblige you to behold me with that of commiseration and pity. Amongst the Slaves which the Law of Armes gave us, we met with a Moorish Lady, so faire and so accomplish'd, that assoon as I saw her, I became her Vassal. Neither the Antipathy of our Nations, nor the contrariety of our Beleifes, no not the very contempt which that deare Enemy made of my service, have been able to cure me of my passion. I daily besought her to be favourable unto me, and as daily she rejected my prayers. She will not almost either see me or heare me; and threatens, that if I restore her not quickly to her father, she will free her selfe by death from the servitude where­in she is. I feare to lose her, either one way or other; so that I know not how to demean my selfe towards her: I would willingly give her her liberty, but I feare that she will forsake me assoone as she is free. On the other side, I doubt, least in keeping her, she carry her selfe to some desperate action; and that apprehension presseth me to send her to her Parents. At the same of this Turney I have taken Armes to oblige her; and having promis'd to maintaine that she is fairer then all the Ladyes in Africa, I am now come to perform my word to her.

After the Portugall had made this recitall, he was led about the Lists, and being left with a very good Lance, expected when the Trumpets should give him a Signall of the time and order of the Combat. Presently after came Abdelmelec out of his Pavi­lion, and being warned to put on, came fiercely on the Portingall, who made it ap­peare that he was an excellent Horseman, and broke his Lance on the Princes Caske. At the second Course he made the Challenger forsake his Saddle; but by his owne strength as much as by that of his Enemy, he was carried over his Horses Crupper. The Officers of the field came and presently took him up, and giving him his horse againe, took his Buckler and hung it up among many others under the Portraict of Alcidiana. The valiant Moore Elgazair tooke the Portugals place: That Knight was the belov'd of Ladies and Warriours, and though he was very inconstant in his Love and Freindship, yet he had the good luck to acquire many Mistresses, and many Freinds. At the first Turney of Abdelmelec he did Wonders for the proud Moore Abra; at that of Nephizus at Fez, he maintained that Arais Princesse of the Arabians, of the Mountain Farobe was the most charming beauty of either the one or the other Mauritania; and now he would make Abdelmelec confesse that Alcidiana was not so faire as the young Elserifa. He came to make his Declaration at the accusto­med place; and made all his Auditors laugh, at the grace wherewithall he publish'd the perfections of his new and easie Mistris. He desired not though, to be esteem'd more con­stant then he was, and for that cause he carried both armes, & a Device that intimated suf­ficiently the ficklenesse of his mind. His Arms were wavy, and wrought with such art, that when the Sun darted his beames on them, the Colours losing themselves one in another, & producing a fair effect, resembled the rainbow, or rather those various shadowings which you see on the necks of pigeons. His Buckler was bordered with Opalls & in the midst was seen a Fountaine like to that marvelous one in Daulphine, which from time to time casts out flames. This Knight was so renowned for his valour and courtesie, and so known for the many fair actions he had done, that all the Spectators promis'd to themselves an ex­treame pleasure in the Combat. Abdelmelec lov'd him with all his heart and if he could have suffer'd himself to be overcome, so that the glory of Alcidiana had not receiv'd a diminution by it, I doubt not but he would himselfe have contributed to his owne dea­feat. But Love being alwayes stronger then freindship, suspended the Princes affection, and oblig'd him to satisfie his owne passion. And that of the whole Assembly▪ and there­fore taking his place, and Algazair his, they parted both at once, and met in the midst of their Cariere with such an extreame force that they lifted up one another, and sent the splinters of their Lances all about the fields. The two next courses were not lesse faire nor unequall to the first, and so ravish'd the Spectators that they clapped their hands, and signified by their acclamations, that they had not yet seen any like it. But the fourth decided the businesse, and caused the Picture of the young Elserifa to be placed immedi­atly under that of Alcidiana.

This faire Encounter was follow'd by another, which gave no lesse admiration to all there present. 'Twas undertaken by a French Prince, that was expressely come from [Page 196] Naples to be at this Turney. He was the worthy inheritor of his Predecessors eminent virtues, and from his Infancy had equally made profession of love and the warres. If they were astonished at the richnesse of his Armour, and the pomp of his equipage, they admir'd not lesse the novelty which appeard in the picture of his Lady. Shee was clad in such a fashion, that they might easily know the greatnesse of her condition: But two little Loves which were painted over her head held a Veyle before her face, and kept her from being known. Abdelmelec drew neer to complain of that sleight, and thought he had the more cause, because looking on the hands of that Lady, and taking them for Nose-gayes of Lillies and Roses, he told the Prince, that hee wrong'd so excel­lent a beauty in not shewing her in so famous an Assembly.

The Prince answer'd him, that he was of the same opinion, and that his Lady deserv'd to be seen by the Eyes of all the World, but that he fear'd the chance of Armes, and dar'd not expose the fairest creature of the Vniverse, to the extravagancies of fortune. Ab­delmelec approv'd of the brave French-mans just apprehension, and would not that the veyle of his Lady should retard the contentment of the Company. They ran at one ano­ther, and in their first courses brake their lances without any advantage; at the fourth, our generous French-man strook and was not touched; at the fifth he made Abdelmelec quit one of his stirrops, and at the sixth they fell, both men and Horses together. Presently they got up againe, and put their hands to their Swords to decide the difference, but the Judges of the Field came instantly in to them, and separating them according to the Lawes of the Turney, proclaym'd them both Victorious. Abdelmelee return'd to his Tent, and the French Prince to his lodging with his veyld Picture. This Iust so ended, there entred two Knights clad as the Ianizaries, which are of the Guard to the great Turke. They were two Flemish Renegados, who were in great esteem among the Warri­ors of Argier, and were no lesse famous for their valour then for their fantasticalnesse. Of extraordinary Enemies, which they had been, they were become friends, and their a­mity had produc'd a love, which hath for a longtime been the talk of all Barbary. The one was calld Abdear, and the other Raman. Abdear had married a Moore, who passed among the Ladyes of her Nation for a beauty perfectly accomplish'd, and yet her extra­vagant humour and eight or ten dayes enjoying, had made her so displeasing to him, that he had much adoe with himselfe to refraine from repudiating her. Her black haire, her complexion that shew'd the Eye a mixture of pure incarnadine, with a brown that had nothing of the Olive, her stature tall and slender, the quicknesse of her Eyes and of her wit, were not sufficient charmes to allure him. But on the contrary, the yellow Locks of Ramans wife, who was a Brittaine and by him made to deny her faith, the whitenesse which she borrowed as well from art as Nature, and her green Eyes, which made some beleeve that she saw not a glimpse, were to Abdear such miracles and perfections as were not found in all the Sex of Woman besides. Raman was, (as he said himselfe in the publick place) of his friends humour, and yet they had different palats. He noted every day some new defects in white-flaxen hair'd Woemen, to the end he might find cause to con­temne his owne. He cal'd that red, which was but halfe flaxen, and never cal'd the ex­treame white complexions, but relicks of Sicknesse, and Images of Playster. For the haires and black eye-browes, he spake of them as of the Master-peeces of Nature; and said they were made to compose of them those powerfull bowes, by which Love hath got to himselfe the Empire of the world. The black and sparkling Eyes in a cleare and well-colour'd face, seem'd to him more faire then the brightest Stars in a calme Evening.

In a word Raman was in love with the Wife of Abdear, and Abdear with the Wife of Raman; and their passion was come to such a point, that after they had made themselves confident of one another, they were come together to maintaine publickly the beautie of their Mistrisses. Raman came first into the Lists, and first felt that Abdel­melec had more strength then needed to orethrow him: and if the Grecian and African beauties had left their defence to him, they had lost that fame which they had gotten a­mong all the Nations of the world. Abdear thought that the flaxen should be more be­holding to him then the brown had been to his companion; But he kept his Horse no better then his friend, but blemishing (as much as he could by his fall) the great lustre that [Page 197] subjects us to the power of the flaxen-hayrd beauty, made all the Assembly say, that Cau­ses are good or bad, according as they find good or bad Defenders. Assoone as the noyse­that follow'd the defeat of these two Extravagants. was over, there were seen appeare at the Barres, a Troup very proudly, but very sadly accroutred. The Trumpetters were clad as those of Europe paint the Phantasms and shadowes of the dead. Their Trum­pets were made as t were of bones, and had a sound so dolefull, that many imagin'd, they were to see some Funerall in Iesu of Iusting. But they soone changed their opinion: for presently after, they saw come in divers foot-boyes, and many horses, which among the black that cover'd them, made some shew of flames. The Captaine of this Brigade, was mounted upon a Roane horse with Caparisons of black Velvet, imbroider'd with Gold and Silk of the colour of fire. The Armes he bare, by the industry of the Workman, re­presented a furnace, wherein the fire was nourished by a little mizling raine that fell in­to it. His shield was black in many places, and the rest bloodied with the long tresse of a Comet. This Devise had for motto to it, these three Latin words: Vt perdat lucet. Po­lemander (so was the Knight call'd so deadly inflamed; came to the place prescrib'd, and easily obtaining the Audience, he desired, said: that he was come out of the Mountaines which separate Spaine from France, to give to the faire Infeliciana the last testimony of his love. Truely his constancy deserves from us extraordinary prayses. For though the object of his passion was, during her life, full of grace and merit, yet we must confesse that there was a miracle in so long a perseverance.

Infeliciana enjoyed in the highest degree, all that which the fairest Ladies, either Greek or Spanish, had of allurement or fire; yet whoever, di-sinteress'd should, Judge▪ will acknowledge the beauty of that Lady to be nothing in comparison of the won­ders of her wit, and the sweetnesse of her conversation. This magnanimous Knight, charm'd with so many divine qualities, had neither soul nor life, but what he receiv'd from the Eyes or discourse of Infeliciana. When he was absent from her, he did no­thing but languish: His melancholy and heavinesse made both the Court and the light odious to him, and made the King of Navarre (of whom he was passionatly be­lov'd) to take notice of it. That Prince, by all manner of offers and favours, would faine have won him to discover the cause of his disquiet, but all in vaine. After he had long time mused on it, he doubted that the sadnesse of his favorite came from love; and himselfe being then extreamely in love with a young Lady call'd Ismenia, who wanted no allurements, he imagin'd that Polemander kept not his love pri­vate, for any other thing, but because it had originall from her beauty. Presently the King grew jealous, and so extreamely jealous, that, to free him of all his suspitions, he made use of all the wit and subtlety wherewith his love could furnish him. But it was all in vaine that he made use of his great promises, his feined compassion, and his other artifices. The discretion and silence of Polemander triumph'd over all those enemies, and confirmd the King in that opinion he had too lightly conceiv'd. He secretly look'd on Polemander as his Rivall. He forgot what he was to him, He threatens him, and suffering himselfe to be transported by his former motions, de­liberated already on the execution of him, which but lately he lov'd as his owne per­son. On the other side, his fury made him think strange things of Ismenia. He ac­cused her for being crafty, to desire more then one Lover, and but to feine as often as she promised him her affection; some dayes passed, during which the Prince was able to containe him, but the excessive torments which his silence added to those his jealousie made him undergoe, compel'd, him at last, to make known his suffe­rings, and discover to all Navarre the cause of his vexation. He brake out (in the end) even against Polemander, and not content to revile him for those things where­of he never thought, told him, that if he gave not over his love, he would make him feele all that which could be expected from the just indignation of an offended Mo­narch. This perfect lover seeing himselfe thrust at, & tott'ring on all sides, would not give place to violence, but abiding in his first resolution, intended to perish rather then to faile of that secrecy he had promised to Infeliciana. Whilst all the Court was troubled at the Melancholy and Ch [...]'ler of the King, and that the Enemies of POLEXANDER accusd him aloud to be too indiscreet;

[Page 198] Infeliciana admir'd the generousnesse of her Lover. She confesseth that he only is wor­thy to be beloved, and laugh'd at the blindnesse of those cowardly and perfidious minds that have no other light but what they have from Envy and detraction. Polemander, who well saw how much his discretion made him miserable, protested to Infeliciana ne­ver to forsake her; and rather to lose the Kings favour then to violate his faith, or those commands which she had justly impos'd on him. He kept his word so truly, that the most crafty and curious Courtiers of them all, were as well caught as the rest, and made no difficulty to beleive that Ismenia was the true cause of Polemander's passion. But if their preoccupation had not made them see things far otherwise thenthey were, it had been very easie for them to have been dis-beguild, when Infeliciana was taken from the Court to be given to a German Prince to whom she had been promis'd by her parents. Truly, death is not so horrible as the departure of Infeliciana was to Polemander. He fail'd but little of being lost to himselfe, and had infallibly done injury to his owne person, if that beau­tie's forbiddings, and the hope of re-seeing her had not staid his Tragicall resolution. In spight of himselfe he therefore gave himselfe life, but unwilling to keep it but as an Ene­my which he would persecute, he did him those ills, and went on to such extremities, that none would ever beleive it, but such as have lov'd so truly as he. The day that Infe­liciana parted, he went out alone from the City, and taking on him the habit of a Beg­ger, put himselfe in the way she was to pass. As farre off as He saw her Chariot, he tore his hair, gave most fearfull shriekes, and beating his head against the trees and stones, lay as dead in the midst of the high-way. Those that rid before Infeliciana pittied him, and taking him; for a man afflicted with some strange sicknesse, commanded their Ser­vants to remove him, those that were chosen to doe that worke of charity, were so base, that they had almost kild him, in Lieu of assisting that poor Lover. They did him a many mischiefes in drawing of him, and with the extremity of their dragging made him recover his senses. Presently he rose up as a man enraged: and getting out of the hands of those un­pitifull men, ran even to Infeliciana's Chariot. In her presence he renewed his cries and fury, and spake such things that the most barbarous mindes could not hear without rele [...] ­ting. On an instant he cast himself under the Chariot, which the Charioteer had stop'd; and as he lay there besought them to crush his head in peices under the Wheeles, to ter­minate, by so glorious a death, a life that was odious unto him; in this speech he intermin­gled the Name of Infeliciana, and repeated it so often, that she tooke notice of it, and knowing him, was so strucken with greife that she fell into a swoon. Assoone as her Wo­men had brought her againe from her fainting, She commanded her Squire to take that miserable creature from under the Charriot: divers alighted to obey her, and taking Po­lemander by the armes and head, made him by force to let go his hold on one of the wheeles. But assoon as they had pulled him off, he threw himselfe on againe, and those that would have hindred him, could not doe it so wel, nor the Charioteer so fitly take his time to put on; but that one of the wheels ran over his right leg, which pain he indured so patiently that no body perceived it; and though he could scarce keepe himselfe up, yet followed her more then a league on foot, still caling on the Name of Infeliciana, & wish­ing her a happy Iourney. He remain'd still in these violent passions, and begg'd from Heaven eithera speedy death or the return of that beauty. When he was told that she had forgotten her promises and given her selfe to one of the house of the Palatine; Tis very hard to expresse the excesse of Sorrow; which that infidelity brought on Pole­mander. But when he was in the height of his griefe, he heard that Infeliciana was dead with sorrow for having left him for another.

Polemander, after he had related all this, stood a while speechlesse; at last surmoun­ting his passions, and wiping off his teares, he addressed him to the Prince of Morocco, and discovering the Picture of Infeliciana; I come, said he, to maintain that there is not a beauty in the world which should not give place to this. Abdelmelec would have made an answer to that speech, conformable to his peevish humour, but the Judges of the field intreated him to give them leave to doe their charge; and addressing them to Pole­mander: Your intent (said they) is praise-worthy, but it is contrary to the Lawes of this Turney, the Prince Abdelmelec hath undertaken it, to make all Knights confesse that Alcidiana is the rarest beauty in the World. She, who is pictured on your Buckler; is [Page 199] dead, and by consequence how faire soe ever She hath been, she can, be no more compar'd with Alcidiana. That beauty which is no more, is as a beauty that hath never been. Judge, after this, If you may be received to the combat, and whither Abdelmel [...]c should hazard the glory of Alcidiana to ruinate that of a Shadow, of a Name, of a Picture, of nothing. Polemander had too much witt to stand without an answer; He then replyed to the Judges: that it was to wrong that beauty which he adored, to beleive that death had been powerfull enough to destroy it; That she Li­ved, not onely in his heart, and in the memory of men; but in heaven, where she shines fairer then She did on Earth, and where She was assur'd of her immortality.

The Judges, who knew how farre the gallantry of a Lover mightextend, hearkned very favourably to Folemander; but answering him in few words, that a dead beauty could not be set in comparison with a living one, they, intreated him to retire; & til he had gotten a new Mistris, give place to those that were yet to run. Polemander, loath to be noted by an unreasonable wilfulnesse, the very same day got towards his shipping, and after his setting sayle, within few dayes (happily) arrived at Beyone.

The while, Abdelmelec seeing the Sun ready to set, promis'd to himselfe to goe victorious out of the Turney, and bragged already amongst his Courtiers, that the Theife, who had stolne from him the Picture of Alcidiana, durst not forsake his vess­ell nor appeare in so famous an Assembly. But the pretended Thiefe was come; and, had it not been for Ennoramita's intreaty, had long before made him (with his Ho­nor) lose also the boldnesse of continuing his boastings. Whilst that Princesse sate desperate of seeing him come in, whom her heart and Eyes so servently long'd for: She saw enter a Knight clad after the same manner as are the Knights of Senega and Thombut; he was followed by six black Slaves, and mounted on a Black Barbary, caparison'd with Olive-colour Velvet cut into the fashion of Oake [...]-leaves: and when he was before the Judges, he ask'd them leave to speak and to fight. Abdelmelec, who was gone to meet him, and had received him with a courtesie that was not na­tural to him, intreated that before he told what he was, he would shew his Buckler. The Knight took off a taffata of the colour of dead leavs that was upon it & shew'd him a prodigions shape, instead of a Lady's picture; 'Twas a living death: He had caused to be painted a body, which in all parts was half bare to the bone, and half cover'd with flesh. One side of her face seem'd very faire, and the other shew'd nothing but bones Abdelmelec was affrighted at the sight of it; and asked of the Knight; whither: he had caus'd that Monster to be pictur'd in contempt of ALCIDIANA.

Such as she is [said he) she is more fair then your Queen; and could you see he Originall, as you now see but the Copy, you will avow, to the shame of Alcidiana, that this body so faire in those places by which she seemes to be living, is the sole ob­ject whereto all Princes owe their affections and services. But that I may let no­thing stick in your minde to hinder you from being of my opinion; Know, that pict­ure you see is that of a Princesse, who lately was adored through all Africa She is faire in the highest degree, but she is more unfortunate: her body, which by a parti­cular priviledg preserves all her beauties in her mseries, is accompanied with a minde that incessantly dies, and which is equally devour'd by love and hatred, by duty and aversion. If Christians, who have the liberty of re-presenting all things by their colours, had the Art of painting mindes: you should see the fairest body of the world joyn'd to a minde even like death it selfe. But what my Painter could not doe one way, he hath done in another, and not being able to make the mind seen with the body he hath divided the body it selfe and painted the one part alive and the other dead. The Starre, under whose aspect I took possession of earth gave me not life, but to consecrate it to this faire Princesse. I loved her, before I was of fit age to know her, and I adored her assoone as I was capable of reason. I left Africa to try by the knowledge of strange virtues and manners to acquire such qualities as were worthy of her, after 3 years: carying her to an excesse which I had no­cause to hope, drew me out of the dirt, to raise me even to the Skies: My Rivalls were amazed at my good fortune, and their pride not permitting them to suffer it, they e [...]ployed forces more to be feared and more powerfull then their own, to com­pel [Page 200] me from that place of pleasure. I was stricken by the same hand whence I expected my protection and my miserable soule exposed to eternall tortures was condemn'd towander incessantly through the solitary Deserts of Numidia. Ennoramita could not longer be in quiet (after the hearing of those last words) without testifying by her cries that she was that Dead-living-Lady, or rather that dead-one reviv'd who was painted on the buckler of the desolate Knight: she doubted not, but he that had spoken was Muley Hassen; and throwing her on the Neck of her confident, who was seated neere her; Atalida [said she] marke that Knight, tis Muley, tis Muley, without doubt: But let's heare the continuation of his History and mine. Muley, who had not been interrupted by Ennoramita's agitation, thus continued on his Narra­tion. Some short time after I was confined to the deserts of Numidia, my Princess [as if shee had been guilty for not loving her Enemy] was deliver'd over to his fury, and condemned to a punishment, that was to last as long as she had either faith or life. Tis even he [said againe Ennoramita;] Good Heaven! How discreet is he to hide what should not be known? She implor'd not the mercy of her Judges [said the Knight,] to make them lenify the sentence of er Condemnation, but seeing that it could not be revo­k'd, she went willingly to her torture, and in the height of her torments, exceedingly blessed the Executioners, for giving her so illustrious means to make her virtues the more renowned. In the meane time I led on a miserable life, among the precipices and moun­taines & having no more to hope for in the world, I went out of it by a voluntary retire­ment, and sequester'd my selfe into the Caverns of our Mountaine Atlas. O how wife was he in the art of love, who said, that Love is a just Master; and if so be wee would suffer and have patience, wee shall infallibly receive the wages we have deserved! I had not there abandon'd the World six moneths, with the hopes that had so pleasin gly stayd me there, when the very voice of my faire Princess call'd mee thence: (O heaven cried out Ennoramita, he Speakes of that time, when he was a Hermit, and that I visited him with Nephizus.) That visible Angell [continued Muley] took the payn to descend in­to my solitary vault, and by a light derived from her selfe, to expell the obscurity of my cavern. I saw that miracle; I spake to her; I told her my afflictions. I Petitioned that I might aveng her; and offered to lose my selfe for her safety. But unwilling to have any other will then hers, I intreated, that I might be once, for all, commanded what I should doe. I would have thee live, said shee, but not live contented, since I am unfortunate. Give over then this manner of obscure and dismall life, and get thee far hence, making the renowne of thy actions to sound so farre, that the noyse of them may come into my eares. My Honour and faith forbid me, to have any particular communication with thee: but they forbid mee not, to rejoyce in thy Fame. O poore Prince [said Amaton­ta softly] how well hath he concea'ld that which I spake, in banishing him from my presence. I obeyed, without resistance (continued the Knight) a command, that was so glorious for mee, and so worthy the vertue of my Princess. I put my selfe into the Armies of mine own Enemies; and, during two yeares, serv'd them so well, that it was my fault alone, if I brought no other fruits thence then that of Honour. Hee lies not [said Ennoramita] but alas! what hath he done since? Whence comes he now? I was on the point [said the Knight] to put in execution one of the fairest enterprizes, that a faithfull Musulman could conceive against the Christians, when they who were im­ployed in the Secrecies of my affection, gave me intelligence that my Princess had been taken away from that place wherein her Ty ant had long time kept her prisoner, and con­ducted into some other that was not known but to her Tormentors. Presently I forsook my Armes, and infallible designes, and under the habit you now see mee in, have tra­viled from the one end of Africa to the other. Two yeares now, or rather two ages have I wandered, from Province to Province, from Sea to Sea, from Isle to Isle, to l [...]arn newes of my faire & unfortunate Princess, and to Know whether I should live or dye; to the end, to have the contentment to be neere her. But getting nothing that might cleare me of my doubts; I liv'd, as if my Princess lived yet, and dyed, as if I were sure of her death Love which usally is accompanied with feare, hath changed his wonted custome, [it ma▪ be] to make me languish the more; and [in spight of me] would have me to hope stily 'Tis that hope, but imperfect hope, which hath brought me hither, and makes me main [...] ­taine, [Page 201] that the princess whom I adore, is the most accomplished, be it for beauty of body or that of the Soule, of all the Princesses this day living. Assone as Muley-Hassen (for 'twas he) had finished his history, there grew a humming or muttering noyse from the midst of the Auditors, and presently after some shouts and talke, which intimated that he had given satisfaction to all the Company. But if the rumour had not taken from the faire and constant Amatonta Ennoramita, the liberty of being heard; O how had the publique joy been augmented [...]and the shoutes and clapping of the hands been redoubled! In the meane time, the Heraulds imposing silence: Abdelmelec began to speake, and told Muley, that though in the causing him to lose his Buckler, there would be nothing got­ten to Alcidiana or himselfe, yet he was glad that he should make an end of the day by his defeat. Muley answered nothing to that boasting, but went to take one of the strongest lances that was in the field, and brought his Horse gently to the end of the Tilt.

The Trumpetters, that were weary with calling so many Knights, sounded for the last time, and seeing the Sun set, invited by a hasty sounding, our two Princes to a speedy de­cision of their difference. At the parting of Muley, Ennoramita grew pale, and, if she had not lean'd on one of her Women, She had infallibly discovered that she was Interest­ed in the Iust. 'Tis a strange malady, or rather a pleasant folly this Love. Ennoramita knowes how strong her Lover is, how expert, and how many more redoubtfull Knights then Abdelmelec he hath overthrown, yet she feares least some disgrace betide him, and that the same Demon which had so many yeares persecuted her, should enter into the body of Abdelmelec, or at least-guide his arme and lance, so that Muley might receive an affront from him. But whil'st she was in these feares, the hardy Hassen astonish'd his adversary and all the Spectators with his vigor and dexterity. He had already broken three lances, and, at all the three courses, carried away the Honor from Abdelmelec. At the fourth; he made him lose his Stirrops; and if the Moor had not clasped his Armes a­about the neck of his horse, without doubt he had gon to the ground. Ennoramita saw that brave course, and from thence conceived such a hope, that her blood, which was all got to her heart, left the place that had no more need of defence, and spread it selfe through all those parts which it had forsaken. The Judges of the field hindred any further running, and fearing least the successe might not be fortunate to their Prince, for that by reason of [...]ight, there might be some false play; put it off to the next day. Presently every one ra­ [...]ished and wearied with the Chances of the Day, retir'd to their lodgings. Ennoramita, was no sooner got thither, but she went to Polexander, and calling him the Prophet of her happinesse and the Author of her true reviving; She told him that she had found Mu­ley, and within a quarter of an houre she would know where he was lodged. I have (said she) sent my faithfull Slave, with a Charge to follow him, and that assoone as he is [...]n his Lodging, to intreat him, in the Name of a Lady of this City, to take the paines to walk hither. Polexander had a great share in Ennoramita's content; and obtaining leave to take (the next day) the place of Muley, staid above an houre with her, in talking of nothing else but the valour & fidelity of that Prince. As he ended his discourse, Ennora­mita's Slave entred the Chamber, and at his entrance addressing him to his Mistresse, See Madam (said he) the Knight you sent me to seeke Amatonta startled at that newes, and was so surpriz'd that she could not arise from the place where she was seated: Polexan­der undertook the entertainment. He went to meet Muley at the Gate, and after he had prais'd his Valour, told him, that a Lady of great quality was so ravished [...]ith it, that she would assure him of it her selfe. I should have purchas'd that thing which by me was not desired (answer'd Muley) If I have acquir'd any esteeme by this dayes Action. I have not a long time, pretended any way either to the Honor or favour of Ladies Yet should it be very hard (replied Polexander) if you have not a great deale of honor since all the world gives it you. For the favours of La­dies, I beleeve there are a great many who are indifferent to you: but those that are to be offred you, come from a creature [...]o rare & lovely, that I begin to feare you & your [...]idelity; and even dare beleive, that for a Widow, you will forget the Oathes▪ you so solemnely swore to a Married Wife. Good Sir (replied Muley) do me the favour to bring me quickly to the test: I will doe it (said presently▪ Polexander) and streight ta­king him by the hand, lead him where Amatonta was, still in her former perplexities. The tried out in seeing Muley comming neere, and making her self sufficiently known by [Page 202] that cry, gave her Lover more then the halfe of her trouble. He stood presently im­moveable, and abode befor Amatonta, as if he had been strucken by a thunderclap. She arose to recall him from that transport, and told him aboue a hundred times, with an action full of Sadnesse and Love, that she was the unfortunate Perselida-Amaton­ta-Ennoramita. Is it you Madam, cried Muley-Hassen? and are you free and alive? Yes Muley (answered the Princess) I live, and should say that I do but now begin to live, since but of late I have recovered that life, which Nephizus had deprived me of, in taking from me the liberty of seeing thee. Thereupon, she related to him the death of the King of Fez, the long time she had been kept a captive, and the resolution she had at last taken to get out of her Prison, and to search for some one which might deli­ver her from the servitude of him who had forsaken her for the love of another. After this she made known to him, that being not able to obtaine any protection from the King her Father, she had sayled to the Canaryes, tobeseech the King of those Islands to put an end to her mis-fortunes.

In the ending this Speech, she made known to Muley who Polexander was, and thereby obliging him and our Heroe too to new complements, for the conclusion of this first interview, made them promise to be mutuall freinds al their lives. Muley-Hassen was not free for his already Narration of his adventures; but was forced, after supper, to re­cite the particulars to Ennoramita. That relation being ended, the Princess intreated him to thinke no more of the Combat he had undertaken against Abdelmelec, and to give himselfe the pleasure to see it ended by the valour of Polexander. Muley, who tasted too much of true content to tye himselfe to the prosecution of so vaine a victory as that which he might obtaine on the Prince of Morocco, very easily consented to Ennorami­ta's intreaty, and told Polexander, that he yeilded to him his place.

Polexander, that was out of all patience til he had left Africa, accepted his offer with a great deale of content, and beleeving 'twas farre in night, conducted Perselida into her Chamber, and gave his owne to Muley. Assoone as he was retyr'd into that of Alcippus, he commanded both him and Diceus, that all his Equipage should be ready the next day betimes, and that his Ship should be in case to weigh Anchor the night following. There­with he went to bed and assoone as 'twas day sleep, which he had taken but by Intervalls, left him. He quickly clad himselfe, and after he had addressed his first thoughts to the Au­thor of all good Events, went to Muleys chamber. He commanded to be brought him very rich Clothes, and very neere the fashion of the Knights of Morocco, and the while that Ennoramita was dressing, told him a part of his Adventures.

The Princesse was no sooner in case to be seen by a Lover so passionately desired, but she sent to intreate him to her Chamber. He came thither with Polexander, and found her so dressed and clad, that he had cause to have a good opinion of his fortune. These two Lovers renewed the assurances of their affection, and stood a long time parlying with their Eyes and hands; not daring (may be) in the presence of Polexander, to ex­presse that which the height of their love fill'd their mindes withall.

Our Heroe tooke notice of it, and knowing that the mysteries of Love desire no be­holders, fitly tooke leave of them, and went to prepare him for the Justs. At the houre prescribed by the Laws of the Turney, he rid out of his lodging accompanyed only with Alcippus; and, as an ordinary Moorish Knight, came to the Gates of the Field. Those who were appointed to give entrance to the Assailants, looked on him with a great deal of Scorne; and seeing him so ill followed, Judged (according to the impertinent custom of bruitish bred men) that he was a man of no great value, At last (with much adoe) he had leave to enter, and comming to the place where the Prince of Morocco used to receive and hear his Rivals, Abdelmelec (said he) tis needlesse that I should tell thee who I am. This Picture shall speake for me: and in thus speaking he discovered that Buckler he had taken from the Prince. Abdelmelec presently knew it, and had not pow­er enough at his first perturbations, to see, without trouble, the man which he expected with so much impatiency, He trembled, and, favourably to interpret that trembling. I will say 'twas out of Joy and feare, at least he made it seeme so. For being recollected from his first agitation; I never hoped to see thee more (said he audaciously to Polexander') and beleeved, that the Cowardize, wherewith all ill actions are accompanied, would not [Page 203] suffer thee to shew thy selfe in this place of Honour. But since thou hast no lesse impudence to maintaine thy Thefts, then thou hadst boldnesse to do them, I find that Fortune is not all together unjust in making thy rashnesse happy. Yet see here a place wherein she hath but little Authority; And therefore thou shouldst feare least she forsake thee at thy need, and leave thee to suffer that punishment which thou hast deserved. Thou art (replied Polexander) either poorely in Love, or very senceles, to suffer (for so long a time) the Portraict of Alcidiana in the hands of a­nother, and of such another as hath so shamefully made thee quit it. On, Abdelmelec, Run on to thy revenge, & do not Evaporate thy Choler in idle Narrations. When our Heroe had ended his speech, he turned his back to Abdelmelec, and rid to attend him at the end of the Li [...]t. The Prince of Morocco, re-collecting all his force and all the opinion of his Courage, came thundring on Polexander, and broke his Lance with a great deale of strength. Our Hero: struck his on the Princes Casque, and turning him over on the Crupper of his Horse, astonished him so, that he was carried to the end of the Cariere, sencelesse. yet he recovered, and tooke a second Lance; Polexander, met him with his first, and so impetuously lifted him above his Horse, that almost in the very instant of the shock, they saw him extended on the Gravell. Presently he got up, and on all sides hearing the noyse of the people, and the hand-clappings of all the principall Spectators; he thought himselfe lost in his reputation, if he did not hazard his Life to regaine what he had so lately lost. He call'd for [and 'twas brought him) a fresh Horse, and sent two Pole-axes and two Cimyters to Polexander, that he might take his choyce of two. Polexander tooke the first he met withall under his hand; and sending the two other to his Rivall, bad them tell him, that he was not his E­nemy though his Challenges had extreamely offended him, even to the taking a­way of his life: that he should look to himselfe, and undertake nothing beyond his power. Those words made Abdelmelec lose all the little reason was left him: He ran on Polexander with the sury, but not with the courage of a Lion. Polexander presently stopp'd him, and unwilling to make use of his armes, because they were dangerous, made it appeare to all the Assembly, that he came to the Turney, rather to reprove Abdelmelec for his daring, then to punish him for it. The inequality, noted between them, took away all the pleasure the Spectators promised themselves in see­ing the Combat. Even Polexander, (being ashamed of so much advantage) retired often, and besought Abdelmelec to have a care of his life. But that weak and wilfull Prince, neither being able to vanquish nor to yeeld, gave Polexander a great deale more trouble, then if he had farre better defended himselfe. Whilst our Heroe sought a meanes to be rid of him without killing him, He heard a great noyse of Trumpets at the principall Gate of the field; and took that occasion to oblige Abdelmelec, at that time, not to be killed. Let us at least see (said he) before we end our Combate, who comes so boldly to violate the Lawes of the Turney. Abdelmelec, gave a deafe Ear to these words, but seeing a great many Trumpetters enter the field, he tooke off his Casque, and went from Polexander to chastise those that had contemn'd his countermands.

A man clad in a long robe, after the Persian maner, covered with Plates of silver cut and imbroydered in scales, streight appear'd mounted on a brave horse. He was atten­ded by twelve black Slaves, who had all Collars of silver and long chaines of the same mettle! The Knight himselfe seemed a Slave, for he had chaines on his legs, which (though of Gold) were yet the tokens of his servitude: Polexander (at first, knew not what to thinke of that novelty, but casting his eyes on the Banners which were tyed to the trumpets of that Slave-Knight and noting on them a Phoenix which arose out of its Cradle, (or if you will it's Tombe] he imagined that 'twas one of Al­cidiana's Slaves. His astonishment was no lesse then his joy: He grew pale, he trem­bled, and passing, in an instant, from one extremity to another, became all on fire. His first perturbances were followed by other more temperate, and re-collecting his Spirits, and making use (as he ought) of his reason, perswaded himself that Alcidiana had not, without some important cause, sent that illustrious Slave, to the Court of Morocco. Being more nerely approached to see him distinctly, he knew 'twas the same [Page 204] Pallantus who had pronounc'd the sentence of his condemnation in Bajazets Island. He was oftentimes tempted to go and embrace him; but the considerations of the Iust, not permitting his discovery, he expected with a great deale of impatiency what Pallantus had to say. The trumpets imposing silence, and the famous Slave be­ing conducted to the place for the Orations, spake thus: Alcidiana, Queen of the most happy Island, hath understood, that divers bold men, have taken to themselves such Licence as hath been disadvantagious to her honor, and have dar'd not only to take her for the object of their diversions, but to stile themselves the Knights and defenders of her beauty.

These Insolencies have troubled the peace of her mind, and have made her ca­pable of choler. After she had long complain'd of the pride of men she hath pleas'd to divulge her just indignation, and given me command to be at this Assembly, to the end that by a publick disavowing, I should make known to all the world, that she holds all those for her enemies, who have the impudence to name themselves her Lovers. She therefore forbids the continuation of these Iusts, and her will is, that the Prince himselfe of Morocco be compriz'd within the rigour of her Law. And for asmuch as she heares how a certaine Barbarian call'd Phelismond, dares in the Deserts of Denmark to vaunt himselfe only worthy of her service; She invites to the ruine of that Monster, all those who think them interested in her honor. Pal­lantus, after he had thus ended his strict and proud Declaration, retyr'd: and left all those who had not heard of Alcidiana in an extreame astonishment at his high cari­age and language, and in a great desire of knowing him. In the meane time, Ab­delmelec farr more offended at Alcidiana's contempt, then with the disgrace of his combat, I will obey, said he, that which this proud Queen commands; and I will scorne her, since she makes her selfe unworthy of my service. And with that he went and pluck'd downe her Picture which he had hung under a paviiion of Cloth of Gold, and throwing it on the ground, trampled it under his horses feet. Polexan­der, beholding that bruitshnesse, ran to Abdelmelec, and offering his Cymiter at his throat, what Monster (cryd he) more Monster then he of the North, give over the not rendring the respect thou owest to Alcidiana; and if thou wilt avenge thy selfe of thy shame, do it on thy selfe, since thou alone art the cause of it. Polexander, in thus speaking, alighted to take us Alcidiana's picture; When Abdelmelec, who had lost all knowledge and sence of honor, glad to make use of that advantage, let drive so weighty a blow with his Axe; on our Heroe's helmet, that he had almost laid him on the ground. Polexander feeling this basenesse, got present on Horseback; and to a­venge Alcidiana rather then himselfe, had quickly brought Abdelmelec in case to implore that excessive courtesie which he had so basely offended. Polexander gene­rously gave him his life, and went out of the field with the Victory and two Pictures of Alcidiana. The Author tells us not how Abdel­melec came by Alcidiana's Picture, twice, for Polexander took one from him in the ship, and how got he a second for the Iusts? In comming from the place of the Iusts; Muley joyn'd to him, and inti­mating to him the opinion he had of his valour, made him new protestations of his love. They went streight to their lodging, and found there Ennoramita, who out of the impatiency of seeing her Lover, could not stay out the end of the Turney. She besought him presently to take her out of her Enemies Dominions, and bring her to some place where she might, with facility, heare from the King her Father, to treat with him of her returne and mariage. Muley related to her, that, during the time he lay at Mezila and in some other Townes of Numidia, he had there gotten so many friends and so much credit, that he was little lesse absolute there then the King himselfe: Lett's go thither then, said Ennoramita, and assure our selves that, in spight of the power of our common Enemies, we shall quickly see our selves in Mu­ley Hassen's favour. This resolution was not long from being put into execution: For that very houre Perselida Amatonta Ennoramita gave to Polexander those thanks which she beleev'd was due to him from her, and beseeching him to preserve to her and her deare Muley, the friendship he had promised them, rid out of Mo­rocco to the place where she had left her ship. Polexander, on his side had